Andrew Hurley - The Loney

At the mention of the name, Hanny looked upwards and pointed to the ceiling.

‘That’s it,’ said Mummer. ‘But we’re not going to heaven. God is going to come down here. He’s going to make a special visit just for you. Isn’t that right, Mrs Belderboss?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We’re going to go to a wonderful place, Andrew. It’s a secret garden where God makes people better.’

‘Now,’ said Mummer, inspecting Hanny’s nails and knocking his fringe about with her fingers until it was as neat as it was ever going to be. ‘I think it’s time for Andrew’s present. Where’s my husband got to?’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll fetch it,’ said Mrs Belderboss and she went out and came back a moment later with a cardboard box tied together with an ivory ribbon. She laid it down on the table and everyone gathered around.

‘Go on,’ said Mummer and gave Hanny the end of the ribbon so that all he needed to do was pull.

Hanny drew back his hand and the bow flopped apart. He opened the lid and put it aside. Inside there was a layer of mist-thin tissue paper. Hanny responded to the hush that had fallen on the room and unwrapped the parcel slowly and gently. Underneath was a new white shirt, the buttons bright and pearlescent, each one etched with a little cross.

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Mrs Belderboss.

‘Just the business,’ Mr Belderboss added.

‘I got it from the shop,’ said Mummer. ‘It was made in the Holy Land.’ And took it out of the box and held it up for everyone to see.

When they had all had a chance to admire it, Mummer gave it to me to hold and made Hanny lift his arms so that she could pull off his vest, taking care not to ruin his hair. Hanny stood and squeezed the fat on his belly between his thumb and forefinger, while Mummer brushed a few loose strands of cotton off the shirt.

‘Here,’ she said and put Hanny’s arm down one of the sleeves and then the other, working his big hands through the cuffs. She moved around the front and pulled it closed across his chest.

‘Now when we get to God’s special place,’ she said, fastening the buttons. ‘You mustn’t be afraid. You mustn’t get upset. Because if you do then God will disappear again. Do as I say and everything will be alright.’

When she finished doing up his shirt, she ran her hand down the buttons and stood back waiting for the reaction she knew would come. No one had spotted it before, but a large crucifix had been stitched into the front of the shirt, the pleat for the buttons forming the upright and the crossbeam devised out of some delicate embroidery that only showed itself now that Hanny was wearing the garment.

‘We have something for you too,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘Reg?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Belderboss and he went slowly over to the sideboard and came back with a long thin box, which he gave to his wife.

Mrs Belderboss opened the box and slid out a long white candle.

‘Here,’ she said, passing it to Hanny to hold. ‘It’s been blessed by the bishop. You can take it with you.’

She hugged him.

‘He’s looks like a crusader,’ she said, noting the way the candle was so long it looked like a sword.

‘All he needs is a shield,’ Mr Belderboss said.

‘He has one already,’ Mrs Belderboss replied, patting the cross on Hanny’s chest.

***

The morning was damp and cold. Low grey clouds sat over The Loney and kept the woods and ditches full of shadow.

‘Nice of you to join us,’ Mummer said to Farther, who had appeared at last, rather subdued and distracted.

‘Not now, Esther,’ he said and cleared his throat.

‘Where have you been anyway? Poking about in that room again, I’ll bet.’

Farther looked at her.

‘It’s important that Andrew has everyone with him today,’ said Mummer. ‘And I don’t just mean physically.’

‘I know,’ he said.

She led the way across the fields with Hanny in tow, fuelling and enjoying his excitement by telling him about the place we were going to.

Quickly, the group stretched and fell apart. Miss Bunce and David negotiated the pools of mud and cow muck hand in hand, Farther followed them, deep in thought and Mr and Mrs Belderboss made up the rear guard, struggling already with the soft, rutted ground and the long detours we had to take around the floodwater.

‘Don’t let them get lost,’ Mummer called back over her shoulder, leaving me and Father Bernard to look after them.

Mr Belderboss leant on his stick, breathing like a dog every few steps but was determined to walk all the way despite Mrs Belderboss fussing over him.

‘Oh, look, woman,’ he said. ‘If Our Lord did forty days and nights in the desert. I’m sure I can manage a mile or two through a sheep field.’

‘I’m only thinking of your heart, Reg.’

He waved her off and carried on.

I found myself walking next to Father Bernard, rather by design than accident. If Parkinson and Collier decided to follow us, as lying awake in the night I had convinced myself they would, then I felt safer next to him, no matter how distant he seemed that morning.

I looked at him and he smiled back. His argument with Mummer the night before was obviously still playing on his mind. He brought out a couple of apples from his bag but didn’t say anything much until Moorings was out of sight and we stopped by a gate to wait for Mr and Mrs Belderboss.

‘Andrew seems fair excited,’ he said, nodding up ahead where Hanny was straddling a fence and waving for everyone to hurry up.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘So does everyone.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Apart from you.’

I didn’t reply. Father Bernard leant on the gate with his forearms and watched the Belderbosses coming at a snail’s pace; a faint argument.

‘If nothing happens today, Tonto,’ he said. ‘You won’t be too disappointed, will you?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Because I’d hate for you to lose faith in what God can do.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘You know, not all miracles are instantaneous. I’ve never seen one like that anyway. I think it takes a while for them to ripen. If all you look for are Damascus experiences, then you miss all the smaller things that are part of His plan. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes, Father. I think so.’

He turned and smiled and held the gate open for Mr and Mrs Belderboss, who went through still bickering.

***

The shrine seemed much further than everyone remembered, but eventually we arrived at a small gravel carpark, that was deserted apart from a mattress and some old car tyres.

The little booth where an elderly attendant had once sold penny information leaflets was gone and there was only the wind and the sounds of sheep far away on the hills.

‘You mean we could have come by road?’ Miss Bunce said, looking at her muddied shoes.

‘We could have come by road, Joan,’ said Mummer. ‘But I’m not sure arriving in a minibus shows quite the same sense of devotion.’

‘Where is everyone?’ said Mrs Belderboss as she and her husband finally appeared.

Across the carpark was a gate almost completely throttled by the branches of the trees next to it. The gate led to a weedy, gravel pathway that meandered through the trees and came eventually to the shrine itself after another half a mile. All along the path were little figurines half hidden in the undergrowth — Christs and saints and angels peeping around the sides of plastic urns like curious fairy folk.

Here and there were little clearings where grottoes had been set up in honour of various saints and holy men, the trees dressed with the rosaries and rags previous pilgrims had left behind with their transgressions.

Mummer caught up with Hanny who was ahead of us all and steered him well clear of the ribbons, making sure that he passed along the path as quickly as possible. Father Bernard stopped and ran his hand through them.