Andrew Hurley - The Loney

As I cycled home in the snow I tried to imagine what Purgatory was like. Father Wilfred had always described it as a place of closed doors, where sinners were shut off from God until their souls had been cleansed with fire.

What it felt like to have one’s soul burnt to purity, I couldn’t imagine. It couldn’t be a physical pain now that his body was lying lifeless in a box, so was it then a mental torture? Were each of life’s hidden sins illuminated and ignited one by one? Was one punished by being forced to live through them all again? All the fear and guilt?

Coming down Ballards Lane past the tube station, I surprised myself and prayed for him. After all, it wasn’t his fault. He’d had a shock at The Loney. It was no wonder he went pieces. Anyone would have done the same.

***

‘Andrew,’ said Mummer, touching him on the cheek with the back of her hand.

Hanny woke up and looked at her, then coming to consciousness he moved away from her on his elbows. He looked at me and Mummer put her hand on his shoulder.

‘It’s alright, Andrew,’ she said. ‘I’ve just brought you some tea.’

She passed Hanny the cup and he held it like a bowl and sipped.

‘That’s it,’ said Mummer, standing up slightly so that she could check that its contents had all gone. When Hanny had drunk the lot, she put her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him on the forehead. Hanny beamed because she wasn’t angry anymore.

‘Now,’ said Mummer. ‘Come and kneel down here with me.’

She got off the bed and knelt down beside it.

‘Come on, Andrew. Like this.’

He smiled and got down on the floor with Mummer.

‘Close your eyes,’ she said.

Hanny looked at me and I rubbed my fingers over my eyelids and then he understood.

‘That’s it,’ said Mummer. ‘Good lad.’

She stroked his hair and once he was settled, she turned to me.

‘Open the door,’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘Open the door and let them in.’

‘Who?’

‘The others.’

I got out of bed and went to the door. Farther and Mr and Mrs Belderboss were waiting on the landing. They all turned to face me.

‘Is he ready?’ asked Mr Belderboss and as quietly as possible, they filed into the bedroom and stood looking at Hanny who had his hands pressed tightly together and his eyes squeezed shut.

‘Shouldn’t we wait for Father Bernard?’ said Mrs Belderboss.

‘We’d better start,’ said Mummer. ‘While Andrew’s still settled.’

Mrs Belderboss looked at him. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ she said.

‘You too,’ Mummer said to me and pointed to the patch of floor to her right where she wanted me to kneel.

Farther and Mrs Belderboss knelt on the other side of the bed and Mr Belderboss lolloped over to the chair by the door and sat down heavily, his stick in between his legs and his forehead resting on the handle.

‘Lord God,’ Mummer began. ‘We ask that your healing waters flow through Andrew and bring nourishment to his …’

She broke off as someone else came into the room. Father Bernard stood there in his coat and looked around at everyone. Mrs Belderboss pretended to inspect her fingers. Mr Belderboss smiled at him and then coughed and looked away.

‘I thought I heard voices,’ said Father Bernard. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We’re praying for Andrew,’ said Mrs Belderboss.

‘Oh,’ said Father Bernard, looking at his wristwatch.

‘Is that a problem, Father?’ said Mummer.

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘I’m just surprised you’re all still up.’

‘Did Joan and David get off alright?’ asked Mrs Belderboss.

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘They caught the train on time. I did try to talk them out of it again on the way there, but they had their minds made up pretty tight about it. It’s a shame.’

‘It is,’ said Mrs Belderboss, and there was a moment’s silence before Farther spoke.

‘Do you want to join us?’ he said.

Father Bernard looked at Mummer.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Come on, Father,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘I’m sure your prayers would be worth ten of ours.’

He looked down at what he was wearing. Sodden raincoat. Sodden boots.

‘I’m not sure I’m suitable, Reg,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘God doesn’t mind what you’re wearing, so why should we?’

‘No, really,’ he said. ‘I’ll be away to my bed and pray for Andrew first thing in the morning when I’m more awake and I can concentrate on what I’m doing.’

‘Are you sure, Father?’ said Mrs Belderboss, a little disappointed.

‘Aye. Praying’s like tuning a radio.’

‘Come again?’

‘You have to be on the right frequency, otherwise all God hears is static.’

‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ said Mrs Belderboss, smiling sympathetically. ‘Well, as long as you’re sure, Father.’

‘Aye. I’m fairly worn out, to be honest with you. And there’s a long drive home tomorrow.’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Belderboss with a sigh. ‘It has been a bit tiring all said, hasn’t it? Nothing’s gone quite right. It’s all been so difficult. It’s such a pity, Father, that you’ve not seen this place as it used to be.’

‘Places do change, Mary,’ Mr Belderboss chipped in.

‘Oh I know that,’ she replied. ‘But it’s been such a baptism of fire for Father. I mean, Wilfred knew us and he knew this place. He would have coped so much better with all these little problems we’ve had.’

‘True,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘He was a firm hand on the tiller.’

‘It’s no reflection of you, Father,’ Mrs Belderboss went on. ‘It’s rather been our fault, I feel, asking you to take on too much too quickly. I mean, it’s like anything, being a priest. It takes time to get things right, doesn’t it, Esther?’

‘Most definitely.’

Mummer looked at Father Bernard who said nothing more and went out of the room. Mummer resettled herself and noticed that Farther was staring at her.

‘What?’ she said.

‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Why did you speak to Father like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You do.’

Mummer looked at Mr and Mrs Belderboss.

‘I’m sorry Reg, Mary,’ she said. ‘My husband’s obviously a little out of sorts.’

‘Out of sorts?’ Farther raised his voice and Mr and Mrs Belderboss exchanged looks. ‘I think you’re the one out of sorts, Esther,’ he said.

‘And is it any wonder?’ Mummer snapped. ‘Considering what we’ve been through since we got here? This whole thing has been an utter farce.’

‘Now steady on,’ Mr Belderboss said.

‘Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss, eyeing the door. ‘He’ll hear you.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Mummer, her colour rising in a way I’d rarely seen before. ‘I will have my say about Father Bernard McGill. He’s a mistake. He’s not right for us. I’ve never met any priest so flippant and carefree with his authority. He makes a mockery of everything we do. I for one will be very glad when he’s sent back to Ireland to his own kind.’

Amid the angry voices, Hanny got up and went over to the window. He picked up the stuffed hare and smoothed his hand over its back.

‘He’s still a young man, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘He just needs time to mature into someone like Father Wilfred. He will one day. I’m convinced of it.’

‘Mary,’ said Mummer. ‘You were convinced that he wouldn’t have gone drinking, but he did. And he invited those louts over.’

‘It was only a bit of fun,’ said Farther. ‘You said so yourself.’