‘Where things went wrong, Father?’
‘With McCullough.’
‘Shall I fetch it for you, Father?’
‘No, no,’ he waved his hand irritably. ‘I shall go up to the belfry myself.’
He went out and I followed him and watched him going down the central aisle of the church talking to himself. I don’t think he realised that he still had the sword in his hand.
Chapter Nineteen
The new born lamb caused so much excitement that breakfast went on too long and we set off late for Mass. But no one seemed to be worried, jubilant as they were about it being Easter Sunday and excited about visiting the shrine the following day.
On the minibus, Mr Belderboss got out his harmonica and had everyone singing Come Let Us with Our Lord Arise and Jesus Lives and So Shall I. Miss Bunce smiled for the first time in days. Mummer sat with her eyes closed, enjoying the rare sunlight that was blessing the coast that morning and giving the sea a deep blue calmness that I’d never seen before. I felt the same sense of hope that I’d felt at Saint Jude’s the morning we’d set off. There was nothing to worry about. Parkinson and Collier may have hung the gruesome thing in the wood to scare us, but that seemed to have been the extent of their menace. They were nothing more than oversized children playing knock-a-door-run.
I took everything that was offered that morning — the warm sunlight, the soft shadows on the fields, the spangle of a brook as it wound under some willows towards the sea — and managed to convince myself that nothing would harm us.
Such naivety makes me laugh now.
***
The small spire of The Sacred Heart appeared and everyone stopped singing so that they could hear the bells. But there was nothing. Only the bleating of the sheep in the field.
‘That’s odd,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘They always ring the bells on Easter morning.’
‘I know,’ said Farther. ‘A full peal too.’
‘Why is everyone standing outside?’ said Miss Bunce as we pulled up next to the church.
‘What’s going on, Father?’ said Mrs Belderboss.
Father Bernard stopped the minibus and we all got out and joined the rest of the congregation as they milled about in front of the church doors.
The priest came over to meet us.
‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid there’ll be no Mass this morning,’ he said.
‘Why? What’s happened?’ said Mummer.
‘An act of vandalism,’ he said.
‘Oh no,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Is there much damage?’
The priest seemed lost for words. He could only look back at his flock, gathered around the main door. Clement was among them and when he saw us he waved us over to look.
There on the ground was the wooden Jesus that had hung over the altar smashed and splintered.
‘Good Lord,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘They’ve been at it with sledgehammers by the looks of it.’
‘Aye, you’re not wrong,’ said Father Bernard bending down to inspect the damage.
‘Five hundred and ninety years,’ said the priest from behind us. ‘Five hundred and ninety years that’s been hanging over the altar here. And now this. In five minutes of madness. I mean, why?’
‘Oh, there is no reason for it with these people,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘They’re just mindless thugs.’
‘It’s their upbringing,’ Mr Belderboss said. ‘They don’t teach them right from wrong at home anymore.’
‘Will it be kids from the village?’ said Mrs Belderboss.
‘Yes,’ said the priest knowingly. ‘There’s a few little hooligans that I wouldn’t put it past to do something like this. I’ve seen them spraypainting and littering.’
I saw Clement glance at Father Bernard. It was clear who he suspected, though he didn’t say anything.
‘Can’t you take it inside?’ said Farther. ‘See if there’s any way of salvaging it?’
The priest said nothing but pushed past us and went to the main doors. A huge chain had been passed through the handles and padlocked together. He lifted it up and let it fall back against the doors by way of an answer.
‘The side door’s the same,’ he said.
‘What about breaking a window?’ Mr Belderboss suggested.
‘Break a window?’ the priest said. ‘The glass is priceless, man, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Have you called the police?’ asked Mrs Belderboss.
‘Yes, of course,’ the priest replied.
‘It might have been better to have fetched the fire brigade,’ said Mr Belderboss.
‘The fire brigade?’ said the priest, trying to untangle the chain in the vain hope that it might only be an obstinate knot. ‘What good would that do?’
‘Well, they have things which would cut through that like a knife through butter,’ said Mr Belderboss.
‘I can’t believe anyone would do something like this,’ said Mummer. ‘Locking people out of the church on Easter morning.’
‘What about saying Mass outdoors?’ suggested Miss Bunce. ‘Like they do at Glasfynydd.’
Mummer made a derisive noise and turned away, but the priest seemed to consider it a decent idea, given the circumstances, and asked the regulars if they agreed. They said little but nodded in supplication and the priest gathered us in front of one of the yew trees and began.
***
The police turned up half way through and went around the church, inspecting the doors and windows. I noticed that Clement had stopped singing and was watching them anxiously as they squatted down on their haunches to look at the battered crucifix.
After the blessing, the priest seemed a little calmer for having got through the unusual Mass and that the police had arrived. He went around shaking hands and accepting condolences and finally went off to speak to the two policemen who had been standing patiently by, their helmets under their arms, as though they were at a funeral.
‘What a disappointment,’ said Mummer.
‘I thought it was quite nice, really, in the end,’ said Miss Bunce. ‘Quite liberating.’
‘Don’t worry, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss, patting Mummer’s arm. ‘It’ll be all better when we go to the shrine tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ said Mummer. ‘I know. I know.’
‘You can’t let something like this get you down. It’s not worth it. It’s what these little villains want.’
‘I know,’ said Mummer. ‘You’re right. I just wish we could have had a normal service and that Andrew could have taken communion.’
‘Come on, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Don’t be sad. There’s nothing more you can do now but trust that the Lord will visit Andrew tomorrow. All the signs are there.’
I saw Clement wave Father Bernard over to the shade of some cypress trees, where he had been lingering as the policemen went around taking statements. Father Bernard excused himself and went over to speak to him. They had a conversation that I couldn’t hear. Father Bernard put his hand on Clement’s shoulder. Clement nodded, and then Father Bernard came back to where we were standing.
‘It’s alright if Clement comes back for a bite to eat isn’t it?’ he said. ‘His mother’s out and it seems a shame for him to be on his own today.’
Clement hung behind him, scratching the back of his neck, pretending to scrutinise the inscription on one of the gravestones.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Mummer. ‘I’ve not really catered for another mouth, Father.’
She caught Miss Bunce’s eye.
‘But,’ she said. ‘I’m sure there’ll be enough. It’ll be nice to have another guest to celebrate with us.’