Clement walked away and then stopped and came back.
‘I don’t know if I should say anything, Father,’ he said. ‘But I’d not forgive mesen if I didn’t give thee a word of warning.’
‘Oh? About what?’
‘Stay indoors as much as you can.’
‘With the weather, you mean?’
‘No, I mean keep thaselves to thaselves.’
‘What makes you think we were going to do otherwise?’ said Father Bernard with a small laugh.
‘There are folk around here who aren’t that happy that you’ve come.’
‘Like who?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
Father Bernard smiled faintly to himself. He knew who Clement was talking about.
‘Well, I’m sure we won’t do anything to upset them, Clement. And in any case, it didn’t seem like that to me.’
Clement frowned. ‘How do you mean, Father?’
Father Bernard glanced at me.
‘Well, I stopped in the Bell and Anchor the other day to get out of the rain and someone very kindly bought me a drink.’
Clement looked as though he had swallowed something nasty.
‘Who was it?’
‘Mr Parkinson, the butcher. Why?’
‘And did you return the favour?’
Father Bernard shook his head. ‘I hadn’t time to stay.’
‘I don’t mean a drink, Father.’
‘I don’t follow you, Clement.’
‘I mean, did you invite him up to Moorings?’
‘I don’t recall …’
‘He has a way of making folk feel obliged to him, you see,’ Clement cut in.
‘Well, I didn’t feel like that,’ said Father Bernard. ‘Like I say, it was just a drink.’
But Clement wasn’t listening. He clutched Father Bernard’s arm.
‘Because if you were to invite him, he wouldn’t just take it as a pleasantry. He’d come and bring them all with him.’
‘Who’s all?’
‘It’s just better if tha keeps away from him.’
‘But there must be a reason, Clement.’
‘Aye, plenty.’
‘Such as what?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Clement?’
‘I’m sorry, Father. I must get back to Mother.’
Clement looked at Father Bernard and then down at his feet, as though he had failed in some way. Then he walked to the lane, paused while he looked around him again, and then went off through a gate and over the fields.
Chapter Thirteen
Clement’s odd behaviour was all everyone talked about once he had gone.
‘He’s always been a little eccentric,’ said Mrs Belderboss.
‘It’s not surprising living out here,’ Mr Belderboss added. ‘Stuck with his mother day in, day out. It’s enough to make anyone go a bit strange.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t think of her as a burden, Reg.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. I meant he focuses so much of his time on her that the rest of the world, the real world, sort of gets pushed to the sidelines.’
Everyone seemed to agree, and perhaps it was this consent that made Father Bernard dismiss Clement’s warnings as easily as he had obviously wanted to.
Perhaps they were right. Maybe Clement was just paranoid, but he had seemed so serious, so genuinely concerned.
Mummer and Mrs Belderboss went into the kitchen to prepare the fish while the rest of us waited. Miss Bunce and David sat together on the sofa. She was back with her Bible and he was reading a battered Dickens novel that had pages like tissue paper. Mr Belderboss snored in an armchair, Father Bernard went to his room to pray, and Farther sat at a table, looking at the nativity set he had found in the little room next to the study.
A new wave of rain swept in off the sea and made its fingertaps on the windows. Mummer came in from the kitchen and handed me a box of matches.
‘Here, make yourself useful and light the candles,’ she said and shooed me off around the room, distracted by Farther’s coughing.
It had got worse and there was a soft wheeze every time he breathed.
‘You ought to stay out of that room,’ said Mummer. ‘It’s not doing your chest any good.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Farther.
Mummer looked at the figures on the table. ‘I hope you’ve cleaned those,’ she said. ‘TB can live on for years.’
‘Of course I have,’ he said, setting a shepherd down next to a lamb.
‘I really think you ought to have left them alone.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mummer. ‘It just doesn’t seem right going through people’s things.’
Farther ignored her and rooted amongst the tissue paper that the little figurines had been wrapped in.
‘Funny,’ he said. ‘There’s no Jesus.’
***
The meal was brought out and placed in the centre of the table among the tea lights Mummer had brought from the shop. On each jar was a portrait of a blond haired Jesus blood-streaked from the crown of thorns and pointing to his huge blazing heart. We ate quietly, the rain hitting the windows and slithering down. Miss Bunce would only eat the vegetables. There was no dessert. Only water to drink.
Afterwards, Hanny was excused from the table and he went off to play in our bedroom, while the rest of us prayed again, thanking God for the meal.
‘I thought I’d go for a walk up the field to the woods and back,’ said Miss Bunce, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. ‘If anyone wishes to join me.’
Mummer looked out at the dusk. The rain had stopped but the wind shuddered against the window.
‘I’ll give it a miss,’ she said. ‘It’ll be bitter out there by now.’
‘I know,’ said Miss Bunce. ‘It’s a penance.’
Mummer looked at the window again. The wind got in through a gap in the frame and made a sound like cattle. She looked back at the table full of dirty plates and dishes.
‘You go,’ she said. ‘I’ll devote the washing up to God.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’ said Miss Bunce.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to come, Joan,’ Mummer replied. ‘It’s just that there’s a more pressing need to clear the table. You go for your walk and I’ll scrape the plates. I’m sure God is capable of receiving two offerings at once.’
There was a pause and everyone looked at the table.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said David.
‘Thank you,’ said Miss Bunce.
‘Would you take Monro?’ said Father Bernard. ‘The poor wee man hasn’t been out for hours.’
‘Yes, alright, of course, Father,’ said Miss Bunce, looking at David who smiled to reassure her.
***
Hanny was in the bedroom, pitting his toy soldiers against the stuffed rats again. So far the soldiers were winning. One of the rats lay on its side surrounded by tanks.
He smiled at me as I came in and he showed me his watch for the millionth time.
‘Yes, Hanny,’ I said. ‘I know. It’s good that we got it back.’
He ought to have been tired, but he seemed agitated and excited. I thought it was because he had found his watch or he had been so involved in the game he’d been playing, but he took me by the hand and led me to where his satchel was hanging on the back of the door. He opened the flap and took out the encyclopaedia he’d been looking at with Else.
He closed his eyes and touched his lips with his fingers.
‘What does that mean, Hanny?’
He touched his lips again.
‘You mean the girl at the house? I know, she gave you the book, didn’t she?’
He sat on the bed and opened the book near the back. Inside was a brown envelope. One of the ones on which the sheep’s skull had been sitting. He must have put it into his bag while I was talking to Laura. He took it out and opened it so that I could see. It was full of money.
‘Give it to me, Hanny.’