Part 11 (2/2)

I started the car again and moved it slowly up the hill. All the shops were closed. Of course, it was Sunday, but there was always one that stayed open. For milk. Bacon. Papers. Headache tablets. But nothing. We parked without problem in the churchyard. There were only three or four other cars and a couple of unsecured bicycles. Wrathlin village was small enough for most everyone to walk.

We were late. I opened the church door as quietly as I could, and we slipped in. The hymn singing mostly covered us. But there was nowhere to sit. Not a single s.p.a.ce was free. People lined the back of the church and sat cross-legged the length of the aisle. A few heads turned as we entered. One of them was Duncan's. He nodded at me. He smiled at Patricia, then indicated that she and Little Stevie should have his seat. She shook her head. He waved her on. She looked at me. I nodded. She went down the three rows and took his place. He came and stood beside me. I nodded again.

*Full house,' I whispered.

He nodded.

*Sorry about the other day,' I whispered. *Hangover.'

He nodded.

Father Flynn's voice was the dominant one. Booming, but tuneful with it. As the hymn drew to a close he smiled at the congregation. A movement to his left caught my eye. Another man, another priest, was climbing easily up into the pulpit. Small. Well-built. Elderly. Wispy-bald.

*Who he?' I whispered.

*Father White.'

*Visiting?'

*I wish.' He said it with just enough of a cynical glint in his eye to suggest that I might have judged him too quickly.

Patricia looked back at me. I nodded. She waved Little Stevie's left hand at me. I winked.

*So here we are again,' the priest said, scanning the congregation, his voice thick, as if his nose was clogged. *How long is it now, since we broke the news?'

The congregation was silent. Not subdued, exactly; not wary, either; maybe a little lost. A boy near the front, hair cropped, said, *Six weeks, Father,' and the congregation visibly relaxed. A few giggled.

*Six weeks indeed a and look at you. You're all still here. Father Flynn and I thought you'd have given up on us by now.'

There was a little light laughter. I tried not to bust a gut. That was Trisha's job. There wasn't even a grin from Duncan.

*We are touched by your faith.'

*Thank the Lord,' someone said.

*Amen,' said another.

*AMEN,' said everyone.

It seemed a little spontaneous for the Catholic Church. But then I thought, maybe it wasn't the Catholic Church any more. The transubstantiation wouldn't seem so important if you had the actual Messiah in your midst. You could just ask him about it. Or her.

*But it's not really your faith in us, is it?'

Silence.

*It's your faith in the one among us.'

Murmurings. Positive murmurings.

*It's your faith in the one among us!'

*Yes!' shouted someone.

*YES!' said the congregation. A couple near the front stood up and clapped.

*Let us remind ourselves,' said the priest, waving a calming hand. *Sean, now,' he said, pointing at the boy who'd shouted out, *what was the first miracle?'

Sean stood up. *Father?'

*Yes, Seanie, what did Christine do first . . . what incredible thing did Christine do first?'

*The bull, Father.'

*Yes, the bull, Seanie. What did she do with the bull?'

*She was in the field by herself, Father, and the bull charged at her.'

*And what would the bull have done to little Christine, Seanie?'

*It would have trampled her, Father.'

*But what happened when it reached her, son?'

*She put her hand out to it, and it lay down.'

*And what do we call that, Sean?'

*A mirkle.'

Soft laughter and aws, a couple of amens.

I leant across to Duncan and whispered. *True?'

He nodded.

*And what little boy or girl will tell me about the second mirkle?'

A little more laughter. Three or four hands went up. The priest pointed: another boy, same cropped hair: *Her b.l.o.o.d.y feet, Father.'

Some more laughter and aws.

*Yes, Brian, what happened to her feet?'

<script>