***
The sun went in and the day became humid. I opened the window as far as the latch would allow, but still couldn’t get any air into the room. I watched a car going down the road. One coming the other way. The postman in his shirt sleeves cycling through the shade of the plane trees.
I went back to Hamlet and read to the end of Act One. The time is out of joint. O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right. Then from downstairs I heard the sound of something smashing on the floor and Mummer crying out. I went down to the kitchen and she turned sharply and looked at me as I came in. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth slightly open. Her lips moving, making bits of words. The remains of her best fruit bowl lay around her feet. She looked back at Hanny who was sitting with his hands flat on the table, a cup of tea in front of him.
‘What’s the matter?’ I said.
But before Mummer could reply, Hanny said, ‘Nothing, brother.’
***
Mummer called Farther and he came home at once, hot and flustered, thinking something terrible had happened. When he heard Hanny speak he cried.
Farther called Mr and Mrs Belderboss. Mr Belderboss called the presbytery and got Miss Bunce. The next-door neighbour came round to see what all the fuss was about and she cried too.
One by one they came and Mummer showed them into the kitchen where Hanny was still sitting. She hadn’t let him move in case going into a different room might break the spell. They came in tentatively at first, as though they were sitting down with a lion, and took their turn to be with him and hold his hand and marvel.
Seeing that Mummer was still in shock and unsure of what was happening, Mrs Belderboss patted her hand and said, ‘It is a miracle, Esther. It really is.’
Mummer looked at her. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘What else can we call it?’ Mr Belderboss said, smiling. ‘The Lord has blessed you.’
‘Yes, He has,’ said Mummer and clasped Hanny’s hands in hers.
‘It’s like the story in Matthew, isn’t it David?’ said Miss Bunce.
‘Yes,’ said David. ‘Which one?’
‘Nine, thirty-two,’ said Miss Bunce. ‘When Jesus heals the mute.’
‘All those prayers we said, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘All those years we asked for Andrew to be healed. God was listening all the time.’
‘Yes,’ Mummer said, looking into Hanny’s eyes.
‘And the holy water he drank,’ said Mr Belderboss.
‘Oh, yes, the water too,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘That was the thing that really did it.’
‘I’m just sorry that Father Wilfred isn’t here to see this,’ said Mummer.
‘So am I,’ said Miss Bunce.
‘He’d have been over the moon, wouldn’t he, Reg?’ said Mrs Belderboss.
Mr Belderboss was smiling and wiping away tears from his eyes.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Reg?’ Mrs Belderboss said and got up to comfort him.
‘I can feel him. Can’t you feel him, Mary?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘I can.’
‘God bless you, Andrew,’ said Mr Belderboss, reaching across the table and taking Hanny’s hands. ‘It’s you that’s brought him here. He’s with us now.’
Hanny smiled. Mrs Belderboss crossed herself and began to pray. Everyone in the room joined hands and repeated the Our Father until the doorbell rang.
***
Father Bernard had been out on his rounds of the parish and had only found the note left by Miss Bunce on his return to the presbytery. I saw his form through the frosted glass of the front door as he rang the bell again and waited. When I opened it, he smiled, though he looked — how was it? — a little nervous, a little short-tempered even. I hadn’t seen him look like that before.
‘Hello, Tonto,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine, Father.’
Farther came into the hallway and reached over my shoulder and shook Father Bernard’s hand.
‘Something wonderful’s happened, Father,’ he said.
‘So I hear, Mr Smith.’
‘He’s in the kitchen.’
Everyone stopped talking when Father Bernard came in. They all looked to him to verify the miracle, so that it could be theirs to enjoy properly.
‘Father,’ said Mummer.
‘Mrs Smith,’ Father Bernard replied.
The tension between them still hadn’t quite dissipated in the months since we’d returned from Moorings.
‘Well,’ said Farther, sitting down next to Hanny and putting his arm around him. ‘Aren’t you going to say hello to Father Bernard?’
Hanny stood up and put out his hand. ‘Hello, Father,’ he said.
***
Word got around and before long the house was full of people. So many came that the front door was left propped open with a telephone directory.
The hesitancy that had been there earlier, when everyone had been worried that Hanny’s speech might disappear as suddenly as it had come, was forgotten now. Hanny had been restored and they let themselves go in the praising of God. They sang around the piano and laughed like children.
Mummer took Hanny from person to person, showing off the gift that had been bestowed upon her, upon all of us. They passed Hanny amongst themselves like a chalice, everyone intoxicated by him. Everyone except Father Bernard who sat alone watching, a paper plate balanced on his knee, chewing the sandwiches I had helped Mummer to quickly prepare.
When I passed him with a tray of empty cups, he said, ‘Could I talk to you, Tonto?’
We went outside into the garden, where a few other people from church were standing about smoking and admiring Farther’s dahlias. Father Bernard said hello to them and then we walked down to the end where there was a bench under the apple trees.
We sat for a minute listening to the swifts in the wasteground on the other side of the tube line and saw their black arrowheads whip through the garden now and then for the insects dancing over the greenhouses.
Father Bernard sat down and loosened his collar. The heat was making him sweat and there were rings of dried salt under the arms of his black shirt.
‘So, now you know what a miracle looks like, eh Tonto?’ he said looking back towards the house.
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Quite a thing, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘How is he? Andrew?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I mean how does he seem?’
‘Alright, I suppose. Happy.’
He wafted away a bee that had droned towards him from the apple tree.
‘What happened?’ he said.
‘How do you mean, Father?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘God cured him,’ I said. ‘Like in Matthew. Nine thirty-two.’
He looked at me and frowned.
‘When Jesus heals the mute,’ I said.
‘Aye, I do know the story, Tonto.’
‘Well, that’s what happened to Hanny, Father.’
‘Aye, but do you know the ending?’
‘No, Father.’
‘You look it up then, Tonto. I have to say I’m with the Pharisees.’
‘How do you mean, Father?’
He set his eyes firmly on mine.
‘Look, something happened to you and Andrew there at that house on Coldbarrow, and it wasn’t anything to do with God.’
I looked at him and then back at the house.
‘Why did you go there?’ he said. ‘I thought we’d agreed to steer well clear of the place.’
‘Hanny wanted to see the birds,’ I said.
He knew I was lying and couldn’t conceal a look of hurt or even anger before he spoke softly again.
‘Tonto,’ he said, edging forward. ‘If you’ve got yourself mixed up into something that you shouldn’t have, I can help you, you know. You mustn’t be afraid to tell me.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I replied.