‘I’ve never been so sick in all my life.’
‘So I can assume that you won’t be hitting the bottle anytime soon?’
‘Oh, never again, Father.’
‘Well then, listen. God forgives you your anger and your moment of weakness. Don’t dwell on it anymore. Put Father Wilfred’s feelings down to those of an old man afraid of being lonely and marry David. You have my blessing, if you want it.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
‘Alright now?’
‘Yes, Father.’
I heard Father Bernard draw back the curtain, then saw him stand next to Miss Bunce. He put his hand on her head and she crossed herself.
***
It made sense now why, after the carol service, Miss Bunce had come into the vestry from the presbytery, crying and agitated, looking for her umbrella.
‘Have you seen it anywhere?’ she asked.
All three of us, Henry, Paul and I, shook our heads and watched with interest as she upended the room and then went out into the rain without it, running down the path and out of the church grounds.
‘She’s very odd,’ said Paul. ‘Don’t you think?’
Henry and I said nothing and continued stacking the hymn books on the shelf as we had been instructed to do by Father Wilfred.
Paul sat down on a bench and crossed his legs. Father Wilfred had asked him to supervise us and he thought himself quite the foreman.
‘She’s not a bad looking woman, though,’ he said.
It was a phrase I’d often heard his father use in the Social Centre.
‘Quite pretty in a certain light,’ he added. ‘Bet you like her, don’t you Henry?’
Henry said nothing, only looked up at me briefly as he straightened the books.
‘I bet you’ve thought about what she looks like naked, haven’t you?’
Paul got up and went to the door to check that Father Wilfred wasn’t coming. He wasn’t. The lights were still on in the presbytery and he always switched them off when he left the place, even for a minute.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You can tell me. Do you think about her when you’re at it?’
Henry turned and looked at him.
‘You do, don’t you?’ said Paul.
He looked across to the presbytery.
‘I suppose Father ought to know,’ he said.
‘Don’t,’ said Henry.
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t,’ Henry said, though this time it wasn’t a plea.
‘He’s coming now,’ said Paul.
We heard the presbytery door slam and then Father Wilfred’s footsteps on the gravel path.
‘Don’t you say anything, you sod,’ Henry said.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Paul shaking his head. ‘Foul language as well.’
‘I mean it,’ said Henry.
Paul smiled at him as Father Wilfred appeared at the open door.
‘Are you still putting the books away?’ he said. ‘I thought you were supervising, Peavey?’
‘I am, Father, but they won’t listen.’
‘Won’t they?’
‘No, Father. They’re being impertinent,’ said Paul and waited eagerly to see Father Wilfred’s reaction.
‘I’m not interested in your excuses, Peavey,’ he said. ‘Did Miss Bunce happen to come here?’
‘Yes, Father,’ said Paul, his smile fading.
‘Where did she go?’
‘I don’t know, Father. She seemed a bit upset.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Did she say anything to you?’
‘No, Father. She just wanted her brolly.’
Father Wilfred looked on the back of the door where a red umbrella was hanging. He took it down and then went out, looked for her on the street and then hurried back to the presbytery.
Chapter Eighteen
On Easter morning, it was still dark as we walked about the yard looking for stones. Ones about the size of a fist were the best, the shape as close to an egg as possible.
Mummer and Farther had already found some for Mr and Mrs Belderboss and were back at the foot of the dry stone wall looking for more. Miss Bunce and David, who couldn’t see the point in any of it, had satisfied themselves with the first pebbles they had laid their hands on and returned to the warmth of the kitchen, where Father Bernard, who had overslept, was hurriedly putting on his boots.
‘Morning, Tonto,’ he said, coming out with his hair wild at one side and his face black with stubble. ‘Happy Easter.’
‘Happy Easter, Father.’
Mummer came over. ‘I’d try over by the wall if I were you, Father.’
‘Right,’ he said.
He went off and kicked about in the rubble, eventually selecting a flat block of slate. He held it up to me for approval and I shrugged and he tossed it back and moved on.
***
With pockets weighed down with stones, we made our way up the lane to the woods. What we’d seen the other night still troubled me and it was obvious that Miss Bunce and David were reluctant to go back as well, but the sky was lightening moment by moment and the trees were coming out of the shadows. It seemed a different place altogether.
Mummer led the way through the field and up behind Moorings, bearing right and heading for Nick’s Lane — the treeless stripe that cut through Brownslack Wood as cleanly as if someone had taken a razor and drawn it up the hill. No trees had ever grown there and Mr Belderboss thought that the land must have been poisoned in some way. Hadn’t they used lime on their fields around here? Too much of it might have killed off the trees. Farther suggested that by some freak of nature the wind blasted that particular part of the ridge and knocked the trees flat, but neither of their theories seemed any more plausible than the old story about the Devil burning a path through the woods as he left The Loney in a fit of rage the night they strung up Alice Percy.
Mr and Mrs Belderboss were left far behind and by the time they caught up with us on the ridge, the sky had started to lift in the east — the distant Pennines becoming noticeable moment by moment, pale and lavender-coloured in the dawn.
Mummer let her stone drop from her hand and it tumbled down the fellside as she whispered a prayer. Farther did the same and then everyone followed so that there were several rocks bouncing through the ferns and knocking against the limestone shelves, rousing pheasants and curlews from their sleep.
Hanny was tugging at my sleeve and pointing.
‘What is it?’ I whispered.
He went down the hillside a little and beckoned me to follow him.
‘What’s the matter, Hanny?’
‘What has he seen?’ said Mummer.
Hanny went off, wading through the ferns. Mummer called him back but he didn’t respond.
‘Stay here,’ said Farther. ‘I’ll fetch him.’
Farther went after Hanny, following the trail he had cut through the undergrowth, calling to him. Hanny turned around once or twice, but was determined to get to whatever he had seen from the ridge.
Way down the hill, he stopped. Farther caught up with him a minute later and he looked at what Hanny had found. He waved and called for Father Bernard and me to come.
***
Before we got within twenty yards of Farther, he raised his hand to keep us quiet, never taking his eyes off the thing by his feet.
‘What is it?’ Father Bernard said.
‘Look,’ said Farther.
A pregnant ewe was there in the ferns, its eyes yellow and wild, possessed by the ancient hormones that had driven it to hoof out a nest in the soil and lie down.