Suddenly he stood up and stared. A figure had appeared at the end window. It was Else. She waved at Hanny and after a moment Hanny raised his hand and waved back. They stood staring at each other until Else turned sharply as if called by someone and disappeared.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,’ said Miss Bunce. ‘It has been three months since my last confession.’
‘I see.’
‘It was with Father Wilfred, just before he passed away.’
Father Bernard sounded genuinely surprised. ‘Not that you have a multitude of sins to confess to, I’m sure, but it doesn’t seem like you to distance yourself from God for so long, Miss Bunce. It’s not me putting you off, I hope.’
Miss Bunce sniffed.
‘No, Father. It’s not you. I did try to come and speak to you, several times. I even made it to the door of the confessional once, but I went home again.’
‘Well, confession isn’t always easy.’
‘I thought that I might be able to forget about it, but I can’t. The more you try and forget the more you remember. Sin’s like that isn’t it? It haunts you. That’s what Father Wilfred used to say.’
Father Bernard paused. ‘Well, you’re here now, Miss Bunce,’ he said. ‘That’s all that matters. You take your time. I’m quite happy to sit here and wait until you’re ready. I’m not on the tight schedule of absolutions I usually am at Saint Jude’s.’
Miss Bunce laughed joylessly, sniffed again, mumbled a bunged up thank you and emptied her nose.
‘I don’t know how to begin, really,’ she said. ‘It was listening to Mrs Belderboss talking about that trip to Jerusalem that set me off again. I just feel so upset about Father Wilfred. It was me who found him, you know.’
‘So I believe,’ said Father Bernard. ‘It must have been a terrible shock.’
‘It was, Father. And we parted on such bad terms.’
‘Bad terms? Why what happened?’
‘Well, the last time I saw him before he died he was acting so strangely.’
‘In what way?’
‘He was worried about something.’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t like to ask.’
‘But you could tell he was worried?’
‘He was just so distracted, Father. Like there was something behind him all the time, you know?’
‘Aye, go on.’
‘Well, he asked me to go back to Jerusalem with him. For a longer trip. He said that was where he felt safe.’
‘Safe?’
‘That was the word he used, Father.’
‘Alright.’
‘Well, I told him I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be away from David for so long, not with the wedding to organise and everything.’
‘And what happened?’
‘Well, we had a row.’
‘I can’t imagine you having a row with anybody,’ said Father Bernard. ‘Let alone Father Wilfred.’
‘Well, it wasn’t a row so much as, well, it felt more like he was lecturing me. He didn’t approve of David, he said. He said that I had to stop seeing him. I had to call off the engagement. I couldn’t understand why. He’s got a good job. He goes to church every Sunday. He’s kind and considerate. What is there not to approve of?’
Father Bernard laughed quietly.
‘I’m sure Father Wilfred had his reasons, but I must confess I can’t for the life of me think of one. David’s a fine feller.’
‘He said there was something about him that he didn’t like. I asked him what, but he wouldn’t tell me. I thought that perhaps he knew something about David that I didn’t, but it seemed to be more the fact that I would be moving away after we got married that he wasn’t happy with. David has this job lined up in Saint Alban’s, as you know.’
‘Aye, well, maybe that’s it. He had a good cook and he didn’t want to let you go. I know I’m reluctant myself.’
Miss Bunce managed a little laugh but quickly went back to her concerns.
‘Why do you think he was so angry with me, Father?’
‘I think what you have to remember, Miss Bunce,’ he replied, ‘is that Father Wilfred was an old man. I’m not saying you have to excuse his bad temper but a lifetime’s service to the Church and you get stuck in your ways and it’s hard to change. I’m sure that he didn’t mean to upset you and he probably spent as much time kicking himself for it as you did worrying about it.’
He paused and when Miss Bunce didn’t say anything but sniffle into her handkerchief, he went on.
‘You know,’ he said. ‘My daddy used to say that death has the timing of the world’s worst comedian and I think he was right. When people die, it’s natural to regret how we treated them when they were alive. Heaven knows, there are dozens of things I wished I’d asked my mammy and daddy when they were around; times I’d like to wipe clean away. Things I wish I had or hadn’t said. It’s the worst kind of guilt, because it’s completely irreparable.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Miss Bunce. ‘I’d just hate to think of him still angry with me.’
‘The blessed souls in heaven don’t take anything like that with them. Father Wilfred is at peace now. He doesn’t bear you any grudges. I’m sure that he only wishes you to be happy. And being unable to grant him that wish is the only sin you’ve committed, Miss Bunce.’
Miss Bunce began to sob again. ‘No,’ she said. ‘There’s more I haven’t told you, Father. I don’t think you’ll be so kind to me when you hear it.’
‘Ah, I see. And this is what made you hesitate outside the confessional?’
‘Yes, Father.’ Miss Bunce snivelled again.
‘Well, it sounds to me like it’s been bothering you, whatever it is, so it might be best just to tell me and have it out in the open.’
‘Yes,’ said Miss Bunce, sounding as though she was steeling herself. ‘You’re right.’
She took a deep breath and sighed.
‘I got drunk, Father,’ she said. ‘There. That’s it. I went home and I drank half a bottle of Mum’s sherry.’
‘Alright.’
‘I did it to spite Father Wilfred.’
‘I see. And there’s me forcing brandy down your neck the other night.’
‘I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t like me at all. I mean, Mum has a drink to calm herself down sometimes, so I suppose that was why I had a glass. But I just couldn’t stop. It was so deliberate. I was so angry.’
‘With Father Wilfred?’
‘With myself. I said nothing to defend David. Father Wilfred was so determined about it that for a moment I thought he was right and that I ought to call it all off.’
‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Did you tell David?’
‘I phoned him when I got home, but by the time he came round I was so drunk that I could hardly speak. I don’t know what I said to him. I must have looked a complete idiot. It’s a wonder that he still wants to marry me at all. But he was so kind. I don’t remember getting there, but he put me to bed and stayed with me until Mum came home.’
‘See. He’s a good man.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Miss Bunce blew her nose. ‘Father,’ she said. ‘Drunkenness is a terrible sin, isn’t it? Father Wilfred always said so.’
‘I think,’ he said. ‘That it depends on the person. I think it depends on what the drunkenness leads to. It’s a venial sin at most perhaps but in your case I wouldn’t call it a sin at all.’
‘But I knew what I was doing was wrong and I still went ahead and did it, Father. Doesn’t that mean I’ll end up in Purgatory? I mean, the drunkenness aside, wrath is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.’
Father Bernard coughed and hesitated for a moment before he answered.
‘There is a school of thought in the Catholic Church, Miss Bunce, that says it’s possible to experience Purgatory here on earth, that guilt is a kind of purification in itself. It sounds to me like that’s exactly what you’ve been through already and that being the case I can’t see God wanting to make you go through it again. You’ve tormented yourself over what happened with Father Wilfred, you’ve burdened yourself with guilt and I should think the hangover alone was punishment enough.’