Andrew Hurley - The Loney

‘That’s what he seems to think.’

‘And have you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You seem happier.’

‘Do I?’

‘Less anxious.’

‘You can tell that about me in just a few minutes?’

‘I do know you, brother. I can see it, even if you can’t.’

‘Am I that transparent?’

‘I didn’t mean that. I meant that it’s hard to perceive things about yourself sometimes.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, I can see that Baxter’s making a difference. And that our prayers are too.’

‘Oh yes, how are things at the church?’ I said.

‘Couldn’t be better,’ he replied.

‘Still packing them in every Sunday?’

‘Sunday, Monday, Tuesday … We’ve been very blessed, brother. We light a candle for you every day.’

‘That’s good of you.’

Hanny laughed quietly. ‘God loves you, brother,’ he said. ‘Even if you don’t believe in Him, He believes in you. It will end. This sickness will leave you. He will take it away.’

Perhaps it was the light down there, but he looked old suddenly. His black hair was still thick enough to have been tousled into a nest by his woollen hat, but his eyes were starting to sink into the soft cushions of the sockets and there were liver spots on the backs of his hands. My brother was slowly slipping towards pension age and I was following like his shadow.

He embraced me and I felt his hand on my back. We sat down at the desk and finished the tea in silence.

Having circled around what concerned him and run dry of small talk, he looked troubled now, frightened even.

‘What is it, Hanny?’ I said. ‘I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to ask me about Doctor Baxter.’

He breathed out slowly and ran his hand over his face.

‘No, brother, I didn’t.’

‘What then?’

‘You’ve heard the news about Coldbarrow, I take it?’ he said.

‘I could hardly have missed it, could I?’

‘But have you heard what they’re saying now?’

‘What’s that?’

‘That this poor child was shot.’

‘It was on the news this morning, yes.’

‘And they reckon it was some time ago. Thirty or forty years. Back in the 1970s.’

‘Yes?’

‘When we were there.’

‘So?’

His hands were trembling slightly as he brought them to his face again.

‘I’ve been having this memory,’ he said. ‘They sometimes come back to me out of the blue but I don’t always know what they mean.’

‘Memories about the pilgrimage?’

‘I suppose they must be.’

‘Like what?’

‘A beach. A girl. An old house with ravens.’

‘Rooks. That was Moorings.’

‘Moorings, yes that’s right. And I vaguely recall going to the shrine, but that might just have been Mummer putting things into my head. She was always talking about it, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

It was all she talked about.

‘And there are other things, brother, things that are just feelings or images. A door. A tower. Being trapped and frightened. And …’

‘And what, Hanny?’

He looked at me, blinked back a few tears.

‘Well, this is it. This is the memory I’ve been having since I saw Coldbarrow on the news.’

‘A memory of what?’

‘A noise close and loud. And something thumping against my shoulder.’

He looked at me.

‘Like a gunshot, brother. Like I’d fired a gun.’

‘What are you saying, Hanny? That you think you did it? That you killed this child?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why would you? It makes no sense.’

‘I know it doesn’t.’

‘It’s a trick of the mind, Hanny,’ I said. ‘We were always playing soldiers on the beach. That’s what you’re remembering.’

‘But it seems so real.’

‘Well it isn’t. It can’t be.’

His head sagged.

‘What happened to me, brother? I’ve prayed so many times for Him to show me, but there’s nothing but shadows.’

‘You were healed by God. Isn’t that what you believe?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Isn’t that what everyone believes?’

‘Of course …’

‘Isn’t that what brings them to the church every day, Hanny?’

‘No, no,’ he said, raising his voice a little. ‘Something else happened that Easter.’

‘What?’

He breathed out and sat back in the chair, nervously thumbing his bottom lip.

‘I’ve never really talked about it, brother, not even with Caroline, and I suppose I’ve tried to push it down inside me, but if I ever think about the pilgrimage, there’s always something else there in the background.’

‘Something else?’

‘Behind all the euphoria.’

‘What?’

‘A terrible guilt, brother.’

I shook my head and touched him on the shoulder.

‘I feel as though I’m going to drown in it sometimes,’ he said and his eyes glistened again.

‘It’s not real, Hanny.’

‘But why would I feel like that, brother, unless I’d done something wrong?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps you don’t feel as though you deserved to be cured. I understand it’s quite common in people who have been saved or rescued from something. Don’t they call it survivor guilt?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Look, I may not believe in what you believe, Hanny, and perhaps that’s my loss, but wherever it’s come from, even I can see that you’ve not wasted the opportunity you’ve been given. You’re important to people. You’ve brought so much happiness into their lives. Mummer, Farther. Everyone at the church. If anyone deserved to be released from the prison you were in it was you Hanny. Don’t throw all that away now. You’re a good man.’

‘If only Mummer and Farther were still around.’

‘I know.’

‘I just wish I could remember more,’ he said.

‘You don’t need to. I can remember everything as it was. I’ll speak for you if the police come.’

‘Will you?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m sorry to have to rely on you, brother, but I just can’t remember anything clearly.’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Yes, yes of course I do.’

‘Then you needn’t be troubled anymore.’

He wept now and I put my arms around him.

‘Those nights I spent outside the house,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you or worry you. I just wanted you to know that I was there.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not ill.’

‘No, no, I know that now.’

Jim knocked on the door again. I heard him coughing and rattling his keys.

‘We’d better go,’ I said.

‘Yes, alright.’

‘Once Jim sets his mind on something there’s no getting around it.’

He looked me square in the eyes. ‘Thank you, brother.’

‘What for?’

‘Watching over me.’

‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, Hanny.’

‘I’m sorry that I didn’t let you.’

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I said.

Jim let us out and then closed the main doors behind us.

‘Did you come in the car?’ I asked as we wound scarves and fitted gloves at the top of the steps.

‘No, I couldn’t face the traffic. I got the tube.’

‘I’ll come with you some of the way then.’

Hanny looked at me.

‘Why not stay on and come back to the house?’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m sure.’

‘What about Caroline?’

‘I’ll talk to her. She’ll understand.’

It had stopped snowing and had gone dark. The sky was clear and full of hard stars. Everything had been whitened and thickened and there was a crust of ice over the drifts. Road signs were buried and street edges dissolved. Hanny went down the steps and hesitated at the bottom.