Part 28 (1/2)

'Help?'

'Aye, make him better, I mean. Like Mr Hale.'

'I need to go now,' I said.

Parkinson looked at me and then opened the door. The Pace Eggers were singing again. He followed me as I went back to the sitting room.

'He looks after this place well, dunt he, Clement?' he said, patting the wall. 'These old places are a b.u.g.g.e.r sometimes. Damp as h.e.l.l. All the wiring shot. Dunt take much for a fire to start in them. You hear stories all the time around here. People burnt in their beds.'

When we came to the sitting room door, he stood and looked in on the singing and dancing. The noise had grown louder.

'We'll be expecting thee then,' he said. 'Tha knows where to come. Or we can come and fetch thee, if tha likes.'

He smiled and went off to join the other men who had linked arms in a circle and were stamping and singing as Hale swung Mummer round in a dance that she pretended to enjoy as much as she could. Father Bernard stood by and clapped along. Mr and Mrs Belderboss looked anxious for the antiques that had been too large to move. Miss Bunce clung to David's arm with a thin smile, as Collier tried to coax her into the circle. Only Clement sat apart, with a protective arm around Monro's neck. Two outcast dogs.

Chapter Twenty-one.

I found Hanny asleep under his bed with his crayons and his sketch pad. Drawings of Else were everywhere, covering the mattress like a patchwork blanket. He was curled up and snoring softly, a crayon melting in his sweaty hand. I eased it out and not really awake he shuffled out from under the bed and put his arms around me.

He had drawn Else in the window at Thessaly, with the bell tower next to it and Leonard's car parked at the side. Else standing outside in the gra.s.s under a huge yellow flower of a sun, holding her albino cat. The one he had been working on as he had fallen asleep showed he and Else standing side by side holding hands with a grinning baby between them.

The silly sod thought the baby was his, that when Else had let him feel it b.u.t.ting her stomach like the lamb had its mother she was teasing him with a present that she would give to him one day. That was why he wanted to go back to Coldbarrow. He wanted his gift.

But I couldn't take him there. Not after what Parkinson had said.

I removed the pieces of paper and loose crayons from his bed and drew the candlewick over him. He didn't stir at all. He had no idea what was going to happen to him at the shrine tomorrow. He wouldn't remember anything about it until we got there. I watched him sleeping, and wished that his peace could last. I knew what they would make him do at the shrine but he wouldn't understand even if I tried to warn him. I thought about slipping away and taking him down to The Loney to hide when the time came, but there would be no point. Mummer wouldn't let up until she had made him go. I knew that I would be coerced into helping to get him there. Keep him happy and keep him ignorant of where we were really going. I hated her for that.

Despite what Mrs Belderboss had said in her confession, Father Wilfred didn't seem all that absent to me. I still felt his hand at work, pus.h.i.+ng Hanny towards his role as the touchstone that would prove G.o.d's love for the faithful.

I remembered their faces last time we'd been to the shrine. Half fearful, half rapturous that they were about to witness a miracle as Hanny took a mugful of holy water and started to choke. Mummer went to help him, but Father Wilfred held her back.

'Wait,' he said. 'Let the Lord do His work.'

Hanny bent over and gasped for breath. When he stood up his mouth was opening and closing. Father Wilfred held his face tightly, stared into his wide, frightened eyes and began to repeat the Hail Mary until everyone joined in.

'Speak,' said Father Wilfred.

Everyone became silent and listened to the frail note that came out of Hanny's mouth.

'Speak,' Father Wilfred said again. 'Speak.'

He gripped Hanny's head tighter and shook it. Hanny opened his mouth wider but no other sound came out.

Although Father Wilfred looked down his throat with an expression of anguish, as though he could see the miracle disappearing like water down a drain, he still thanked G.o.d for sending His spirit down. For showing us His power and munificence. For showing us a taste of the bounty to be had if only we might pray longer and harder.

Now that Moorings was quiet, I could hear the ewe bleating in the field. It was standing alone in the dusk, nosing at the white pile by its feet. When I went outside, it moved away and lay down under a tree. I climbed through the wire and waded through the long gra.s.s, feeling my trousers wet and tight against my thighs. There was a strewing of white cotton and limbs, and then I found a small hoof, polished and black, like a mussel washed in on a surge tide. The lamb had been torn to pieces by Collier's dog. I couldn't even find the head.

When I got back to the house, Father Bernard was there, carefully rolling apples out of the bib he had made with the bottom of his coat onto the table. He looked up as I came in and underarmed one of them to me. I quickly took my hands out of my pockets and caught it.

'Where did you get these from?' I asked.

'Outside.'

'Outside here?'

'Aye,' he said. 'Every tree's full of fruit.'

'How can they be?'

'Perhaps they're a type that comes early, I don't know. Aren't you going to eat it?'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Suit yourself,' he said and took a bite from the one that he had been buffing on his sleeve. Juice ran down his chin and he made a cup with his other hand to catch it.

'Was Clement alright?' I asked.

'Aye, I think so,' replied Father Bernard, flicking out a handkerchief. 'He didn't say much, to be honest.'

'Do you think he was telling the truth?' I said.

'What? About witches and lucky charms?' he replied, giving me a half smile as he wiped his chin. 'Come on, Tonto.'

'He seemed frightened all the same,' I said.

'Look,' he said. 'I don't know what's going on with Clement and those other fellers. Probably nothing. I can't imagine why on earth they'd want to intimidate him, or us for that matter. But it's obvious that they're keeping a close eye on what we're doing and I think your mother and Mr Belderboss may be right. It's probably best if we don't get involved. If I were you, I'd stay away from them and from Coldbarrow.'

'Maybe we ought to leave, Father,' I said, taking the opportunity to plant the idea into his head, hoping it might germinate before Parkinson had a chance to pay us another visit. Once we were back in London, they could do what they liked to Moorings. Burn the place to the ground for all I cared.

'You know what, Tonto,' said Father Bernard. 'Between you and me, I'm so exhausted I'd be away back home tonight if I could, but I might very well find myself out of a job tomorrow. And anyway, don't you want to take Andrew to the shrine?'

'I suppose so.'

'There you are then,' he said. 'We'll have to do the full stretch.'

The door to the dining room opened and Mummer was there.

'Father,' she said. 'I'd like a word with you.'

'Alright.'

'In private.'

'Now?'