‘It’s not Monro,’ said Father Bernard. ‘It’s what was inside.’
A dark yellow fluid was leaking from the jar onto the stone floor.
‘What’s that?’ said Miss Bunce, backing away.
In the puddle of urine there floated what looked like strands of human hair and nail clippings.
Through the commotion, Clement started to call out. Everyone turned back to the table and stared at him. He had left his dinner half finished and had, in the custom of the place, left his knife and fork crossed on the plate. He had his hands flat on the table and was staring at the remains of the jar on the floor.
‘I’d like to go home now,’ he said.
***
Clement went out to fetch his jacket. Everyone watched him go and then Mummer swept up the pieces of the jar while Farther laid down some newspaper to soak up the spillage.
‘I hope you’re going to lock that room up for good,’ said Mummer.
‘Of course I will,’ said Farther. ‘I’m sorry everyone.’
‘It was hidden for a reason.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘You can’t leave things alone, can you?’
‘Oh, Esther, that’s enough,’ he said. ‘I’ve apologised. What more do you want me to do?’
‘Alright,’ said Father Bernard. ‘Let’s not dwell on it. What’s done is done.’
‘Well I’m still none the wiser,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘What that jar was for.’
‘I don’t know, Reg,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Perhaps it was a litter bin. Now give it a rest. There are more important things to worry about.’ She eyed the door through which Clement had just gone.
‘I was only saying.’
‘And I was only thinking of poor Clement,’ said Mrs Belderboss.
‘How do you mean, poor Clement?’ said Mummer.
‘Well it’s obvious isn’t it?’ replied Mrs Belderboss.
‘What is?’
Mrs Belderboss lowered her voice, aware that Clement might be able to hear them from the hall.
‘They’ve had to sell the farm to pay for his mother’s operation, haven’t they?’
‘They do have the NHS up here, you know,’ said Mummer.
‘Oh, they’ll not have got that done on the National Health so quickly,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Will they, Father?’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’
‘No, it’ll have been some private place,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘Very expensive.’
‘What a wonderful thing to do for someone though,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Give everything up like that.’
‘Aye,’ said Father Bernard.
‘I wonder what he’s going to do now, though?’ said Mrs Belderboss.
‘Leave us alone to salvage what we can of the day, I hope,’ said Mummer.
‘Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Don’t be unkind. It’s Easter Sunday after all.’
Well,’ said Mummer. ‘A grown man going all strange at the dinner table like that just over a broken old pot. It was so awkward.’
‘He didn’t make as much fuss as you,’ said Farther scrunching up the newspaper and feeding it to the fire.
Mummer gave him a look and went back to the conversation around the table.
‘His nerves are probably bad,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘He has had to sell his farm.’
‘So he says,’ Mummer replied. ‘But you know what he’s like.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Mrs Belderboss.
‘Aye, what is he like exactly?’ said Father Bernard.
Mr Belderboss leant in towards him and Father Bernard listened, still with his eyes fixed on Mummer.
‘He’s one of these that tends to exaggerate things sometimes, Father. Doesn’t quite live in the same world as you and I, if you know what I mean.’
‘But I don’t think he’s making it up this time,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘I mean his mother can see again. There’s no disputing that. They must have got the money from somewhere.’
‘I must say, I’m inclined to agree with you, Mrs Belderboss,’ said Father Bernard. ‘I think we ought to make allowances for the poor man, and if he has had to sell everything then we should perhaps consider what we can do to help. Isn’t that the reason we’re here?’
‘Well, if you think, Father,’ Mr Belderboss replied, with a hint of defensiveness.
Father Bernard lowered his voice. ‘I don’t want to get on my high horse about it, but can you think of anything worse than losing your home? When I was in The Bone I saw people left with nothing. Good families who had their houses burned down in front of their eyes for no other reason than being Catholic or Protestant. Can you imagine what that does to people?’
‘It’s hardly the same thing,’ said Mummer.
‘You must admit it was their choice to sell, Father,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘Clement and his mother’s. No one forced them.’
‘What do you think Wilfred would have done, Reg?’ asked Father Bernard. ‘He wouldn’t have just ignored it, would he?’
‘Of course he wouldn’t have ignored it, Father. But all the same, I don’t think he would have liked us to have got involved. It’s nothing to do with us.’
‘Isn’t it?’
Miss Bunce hadn’t said a word throughout, but now she put down her cup and said, ‘I think Father Bernard’s right. Think of the Samaritan.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Farther from the fireplace.
Mr Belderboss smiled at him sympathetically and then at Miss Bunce.
‘The thing is, Joan, what you have to understand about these country folk is that they don’t want help, and certainly not help from outsiders like us. They’re a proud people. It’d be an insult to them. There are times, like Esther says, when the greatest kindness is to leave people be. Isn’t that right David?’
David put his arm around Miss Bunce.
‘I think Mr Belderboss is right,’ he said.
Miss Bunce looked at him and then down at her teacup. Mummer took up the reins and steered the conversation back to Father Bernard again.
‘You see when Father Wilfred brought us here it felt as though he was able to draw a circle around us. To keep us focused on our own relationship with God, and allow him to guide us through the days with an attention that he wasn’t always able to give us back at Saint Jude’s. That was the whole point of being here. It wasn’t just a pilgrimage, Father. It was a sanctuary too. It might be worth bearing that in mind.’
Everyone was looking at Father Bernard. He stood up.
‘I’ll be taking Clement home now,’ he said.
‘Yes, alright, Father,’ said Mr Belderboss.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said Farther. ‘Make sure you don’t get lost.’
‘No, no, Mr Smith,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of you to offer, but I’ll be alright.’
‘If you’re sure.’
‘I’d rather you got that fire going for when I get back. The weather looks fair brutal out there.’
‘I will, Father,’ he said and began untying the bundles of firewood Clement’s mother had brought.
‘Mind how you go, Father,’ Mrs Belderboss called after him as he went out to get his coat. ‘Oh dear,’ she said once the door was closed. ‘I hope we haven’t upset him.’
‘I think we did,’ said Miss Bunce.
‘I was right, though, wasn’t I?’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘I mean no one’s persecuting Clement are they? It’s not our fault.’
Mrs Belderboss patted his hand.
‘No, it’s not,’ she said and then shook her head. ‘What a mess,’ she continued. ‘I don’t remember it being so — difficult — when we came with Wilfred.’
‘He kept everything simple, that’s why,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘And he didn’t go prying into other people’s affairs.’
‘Still,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Everything will be better tomorrow, when we go to the shrine.’