Andrew Hurley - The Loney

‘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.’

‘Yes,’ said Mummer and managed a smile.

‘What’s that bit from Isaiah?’ About not worrying about the days that have gone?’

‘“Forget the former things; do not dwell in the past,”’ said Miss Bunce and finished off her piece of cake.

‘That’s the one,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Tomorrow’s another day.’

***

Clement was still waiting patiently on the little chair in the hallway, his walking stick balanced on his knees.

‘Can I go home now?’ he said.

‘I think Father Bernard’s just getting his coat,’ I replied.

He looked down at the floor.

‘I told them not to ring that bell,’ he said.

When I didn’t respond, he looked up again.

‘The bell on Coldbarrow. You know the one up in the old tower next to the house?’

‘Yes.’

‘It were boarded up for years. But they went out to it.’

‘Who did?’

Clement was about to answer but stopped short when a door opened along the hallway. Father Bernard appeared and frowned as he zipped up his coat.

‘What’s going on?’ he said and Clement waved him over and made him sit on the stairs.

‘Parkinson and Collier, Father. They went out to Coldbarrow on New Year’s Eve just gone and took the boards off the tower and started ringing that bloody bell. And not a day or two later there were lights on at Thessaly, and then all this business started.’

Father Bernard looked at me and then back at Clement. ‘What business?’

‘They told me not to come here anymore,’ he said. ‘They said they’d get me sent back to Haverigg, like they did last time. But I had to come and warn you about what they’ve done. And now that your dog’s broke that bottle, it might be the only opportunity I get.’

‘That old jar in the dining room? What’s that to do with anything?’

‘Don’t you know what it is?’

‘No.’

‘They’re meant to keep witches away from the house,’ he said. ‘But you have to keep them sealed. And now it’s been opened …’

‘Clement,’ said Father Bernard. ‘Is there someone you want us to call? A doctor maybe. Will your mother be in when we get back? Maybe I ought to speak with her. See if we can get you some help with whatever it is that’s bothering you.’

Clement lowered his eyes.

‘You don’t understand, Father,’ he said. ‘You must keep away from Parkinson and Collier.’

‘Why? What is that you think they’ve done?’

But Clement didn’t have time to answer before someone knocked at the front door with a heavy, rhythmic thud.

Hanny came out of the dining room and grabbed my arm, wanting me to open the door. Gradually everyone was gathered in the hallway and we all listened to the singing coming from outside.

‘Who on earth is it?’ said Mummer and she sidled through the throng to see.

The Pace Eggers had always frightened me as a child, looking as they did like things that had crawled out of a nightmare. Each one a mish-mash of fairy tale characters, grotesque as Punch and Judy puppets. Natives of some savage tribe as painted by the children of missionaries.