The Loney (26 page)

‘The Lord will come upon you today,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘I know He will. You’re ready. It’s your time.’

Father Bernard packed a bag with the things that he would need. Some matches. His stole. A small silver chalice that he had brought from Saint Jude’s.

When he had finished he sat at the table with Monro next to him. He said nothing but stroked the dog’s head and watched them attending to Hanny, who lapped up the fuss and smiled as Mummer combed his hair and then took a pair of scissors to his nails. He caught my eyes and kissed his fingers. The poor sod thought all this was for Else. Perhaps he thought he was going to marry her. That this was the day she would give him the child and they would be together.

‘What does that mean?’ said Mummer. ‘Why is he doing that with his hand?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

‘Why don’t you tell him where we’re going,’ she said, nodding at the chair next to her for me to sit down.

I did as I was told and touched Hanny on the arm.

‘Hanny, I said. ‘We’re going to see God.’

At the mention of the name, Hanny looked upwards and pointed to the ceiling.

‘That’s it,’ said Mummer. ‘But we’re not going to heaven. God is going to come down here. He’s going to make a special visit just for you. Isn’t that right, Mrs Belderboss?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We’re going to go to a wonderful place, Andrew. It’s a secret garden where God makes people better.’

‘Now,’ said Mummer, inspecting Hanny’s nails and knocking his fringe about with her fingers until it was as neat as it was ever going to be. ‘I think it’s time for Andrew’s present. Where’s my husband got to?’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll fetch it,’ said Mrs Belderboss and she went out and came back a moment later with a cardboard box tied together with an ivory ribbon. She laid it down on the table and everyone gathered around.

‘Go on,’ said Mummer and gave Hanny the end of the ribbon so that all he needed to do was pull.

Hanny drew back his hand and the bow flopped apart. He opened the lid and put it aside. Inside there was a layer of mist-thin tissue paper. Hanny responded to the hush that had fallen on the room and unwrapped the parcel slowly and gently. Underneath was a new white shirt, the buttons bright and pearlescent, each one etched with a little cross.

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Mrs Belderboss.

‘Just the business,’ Mr Belderboss added.

‘I got it from the shop,’ said Mummer. ‘It was made in the Holy Land.’ And took it out of the box and held it up for everyone to see.

When they had all had a chance to admire it, Mummer gave it to me to hold and made Hanny lift his arms so that she could pull off his vest, taking care not to ruin his hair. Hanny stood and squeezed the fat on his belly between his thumb and forefinger, while Mummer brushed a few loose strands of cotton off the shirt.

‘Here,’ she said and put Hanny’s arm down one of the sleeves and then the other, working his big hands through the cuffs. She moved around the front and pulled it closed across his chest.

‘Now when we get to God’s special place,’ she said, fastening the buttons. ‘You mustn’t be afraid. You mustn’t get upset. Because if you do then God will disappear again. Do as I say and everything will be alright.’

When she finished doing up his shirt, she ran her hand down the buttons and stood back waiting for the reaction she knew would come. No one had spotted it before, but a large crucifix had been stitched into the front of the shirt, the pleat for the buttons forming the upright and the crossbeam devised out of some delicate embroidery that only showed itself now that Hanny was wearing the garment.

‘We have something for you too,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Reg?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Belderboss and he went slowly over to the sideboard and came back with a long thin box, which he gave to his wife.

Mrs Belderboss opened the box and slid out a long white candle.

‘Here,’ she said, passing it to Hanny to hold. ‘It’s been blessed by the bishop. You can take it with you.’

She hugged him.

‘He’s looks like a crusader,’ she said, noting the way the candle was so long it looked like a sword.

‘All he needs is a shield,’ Mr Belderboss said.

‘He has one already,’ Mrs Belderboss replied, patting the cross on Hanny’s chest.

***

The morning was damp and cold. Low grey clouds sat over The Loney and kept the woods and ditches full of shadow.

‘Nice of you to join us,’ Mummer said to Farther, who had appeared at last, rather subdued and distracted.

‘Not now, Esther,’ he said and cleared his throat.

‘Where have you been anyway? Poking about in that room again, I’ll bet.’

Farther looked at her.

‘It’s important that Andrew has everyone with him today,’ said Mummer. ‘And I don’t just mean physically.’

‘I know,’ he said.

She led the way across the fields with Hanny in tow, fuelling and enjoying his excitement by telling him about the place we were going to.

Quickly, the group stretched and fell apart. Miss Bunce and David negotiated the pools of mud and cow muck hand in hand, Farther followed them, deep in thought and Mr and Mrs Belderboss made up the rear guard, struggling already with the soft, rutted ground and the long detours we had to take around the floodwater.

‘Don’t let them get lost,’ Mummer called back over her shoulder, leaving me and Father Bernard to look after them.

Mr Belderboss leant on his stick, breathing like a dog every few steps but was determined to walk all the way despite Mrs Belderboss fussing over him.

‘Oh, look, woman,’ he said. ‘If Our Lord did forty days and nights in the desert. I’m sure I can manage a mile or two through a sheep field.’

‘I’m only thinking of your heart, Reg.’

He waved her off and carried on.

I found myself walking next to Father Bernard, rather by design than accident. If Parkinson and Collier decided to follow us, as lying awake in the night I had convinced myself they would, then I felt safer next to him, no matter how distant he seemed that morning.

I looked at him and he smiled back. His argument with Mummer the night before was obviously still playing on his mind. He brought out a couple of apples from his bag but didn’t say anything much until Moorings was out of sight and we stopped by a gate to wait for Mr and Mrs Belderboss.

‘Andrew seems fair excited,’ he said, nodding up ahead where Hanny was straddling a fence and waving for everyone to hurry up.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘So does everyone.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Apart from you.’

I didn’t reply. Father Bernard leant on the gate with his forearms and watched the Belderbosses coming at a snail’s pace; a faint argument.

‘If nothing happens today, Tonto,’ he said. ‘You won’t be too disappointed, will you?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Because I’d hate for you to lose faith in what God can do.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘You know, not all miracles are instantaneous. I’ve never seen one like that anyway. I think it takes a while for them to ripen. If all you look for are Damascus experiences, then you miss all the smaller things that are part of His plan. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes, Father. I think so.’

He turned and smiled and held the gate open for Mr and Mrs Belderboss, who went through still bickering.

***

The shrine seemed much further than everyone remembered, but eventually we arrived at a small gravel carpark, that was deserted apart from a mattress and some old car tyres.

The little booth where an elderly attendant had once sold penny information leaflets was gone and there was only the wind and the sounds of sheep far away on the hills.

‘You mean we could have come by road?’ Miss Bunce said, looking at her muddied shoes.

‘We could have come by road, Joan,’ said Mummer. ‘But I’m not sure arriving in a minibus shows quite the same sense of devotion.’

‘Where is everyone?’ said Mrs Belderboss as she and her husband finally appeared.

Across the carpark was a gate almost completely throttled by the branches of the trees next to it. The gate led to a weedy, gravel pathway that meandered through the trees and came eventually to the shrine itself after another half a mile. All along the path were little figurines half hidden in the undergrowth—Christs and saints and angels peeping around the sides of plastic urns like curious fairy folk.

Here and there were little clearings where grottoes had been set up in honour of various saints and holy men, the trees dressed with the rosaries and rags previous pilgrims had left behind with their transgressions.

Mummer caught up with Hanny who was ahead of us all and steered him well clear of the ribbons, making sure that he passed along the path as quickly as possible. Father Bernard stopped and ran his hand through them.

‘Oh, mind they don’t come away, Father,’ Mr Belderboss said. ‘You’ll take the sins home with you.’

We came to where Hanny was looking at a statue of Saint Francis that had fallen over and smashed. His head had cracked off and rolled into the undergrowth and wood lice swarmed in and out of his hollow body.

‘Oh, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘It’s such a shame.’

‘Well, perhaps the groundsman hasn’t got round to it yet,’ said Mummer.

‘I’m not sure there is a groundsman anymore,’ said Mr Belderboss.

‘There must be,’ said Mummer. ‘They wouldn’t just let the place go to seed.’

‘But if there’s no money, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss.

‘Of course there’s money,’ said Mummer. ‘There’s always money. Someone’s always got money.’

‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with money,’ said Farther. ‘It’s just that no one comes to places like this anymore.’

‘What about Lourdes?’ said Mummer.

‘That’s different,’ said Farther. ‘And anyway, it’s like Disneyland nowadays.’

‘Well God is still here,’ said Mummer. ‘Despite what it looks like.’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Of course He is.’

We walked a little further through a tight kissing gate and then the path was flanked on either side by a tall hedge, as though we were in a maze. The hedge had gone wild and in places had almost met in the middle of the path so that we had to squeeze past the brambles and thorns in single file.

A hundred yards further on, the path ended. Mummer stopped and pulled away some of the branches and leaves to get at the handle of a small iron gate.

‘Here we are,’ she said, and opened it inwards with one, two, three hard pushes, tearing aside more of the foliage that clung to the railings.

Everyone stopped talking and went through the tangle of rhododendrons until we came to a set of stone steps, damp and black with moss, which led down to where the spring itself bubbled to the surface and could be accessed by opening a small trapdoor in the ground.

Father Bernard helped the ladies down first and they negotiated the narrow, greasy slabs slowly and carefully. When they were safely at the bottom, Father Bernard went back up the steps to help Mr Belderboss. Everyone seemed to hold their breath when he was in the precarious moment between Father Bernard’s hands letting go of him at the top and Mummer’s hands reaching to him from the bottom.

‘You go first, Hanny,’ I said, when it was our turn.

He stared down into the shrine and turned to look at me.

‘It’s alright,’ I said. ‘Go on.’

Everyone was watching, waiting. He shook his head.

‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ I said. ‘I’ll come with you.’

I held Hanny’s hand and step by step he went down and joined everyone else huddled in the damp.

‘I can’t believe what’s happened here,’ said Mrs Belderboss, looking around. ‘I’m so sorry for you, Esther.’

‘It’s alright,’ said Mummer.

‘The well was always so beautifully dressed,’ Mrs Belderboss explained to Father Bernard, who had taken his gold-coloured stole from his bag and was looping it around his neck. ‘So many flowers and candles.’

Now, it was an oubliette; cramped and dank and filled with permanent shadow by the yew trees twisting above us. Where the large stones that formed the sheer walls jutted out, there were stumps of wax, which no one could get to light, and so David was designated to hold up a match so that everyone could see the wooden board nailed to the wall on which a scene had been painted of Saint Anne shimmering in white and hovering above the startled peasant children that had first witnessed her apparition three centuries earlier.

Father Bernard knelt down and opened the little trapdoor that was inches thick and braced with iron straps. Everyone gathered round. The holy water trickled past, black and silky looking with a smell of autumn deadfall and eggs.

I could feel Hanny crushing my hand.

‘It’s alright,’ I said. ‘Don’t be scared.’

Miss Bunce went first as she was closest to Father Bernard. She took off her coat and handed it to David to hold. Accepting Father Bernard’s hand, she knelt down in front of him and bent her head forward. Father Bernard placed his hand gently on her crown, said a quiet prayer, and then reached down into the hole with the chalice to let it fill with water. He brought it up spattering onto the stone and handed it to Miss Bunce. She closed her eyes and drank from the cup and was replaced by David, and then the rest of us one by one.

When it came to Mummer’s turn she remained standing. Father Bernard looked at her and then dipped the chalice into the water and stood up to face her.

‘Drink this water, the healing balm of Christ,’ he said, giving her the invitation he had given to everyone.

‘Amen,’ said Mummer and sipped until the chalice was empty.

There was only Hanny left. Farther lit the candle Mr and Mrs Belderboss had given him and Mummer took off his coat, so that she could rearrange the collar of his new shirt. Smiling at her son, she tidied his hair and with a kiss on his forehead, she turned him to face Father Bernard.

‘He’s ready now, Father.’

Father Bernard held out his hand.

‘Andrew,’ he said, over the sound of the water. ‘Come and kneel down here by me.’

Hanny stood clutching his candle.

‘Andrew?’ Father Bernard said again. And this time Mummer nudged Hanny and pointed to where he should go. Hanny looked at me and I nodded.