'We're all going through a very difficult time, Father,' she went on. 'And I think it's best to keep things the way they were. The way they've always been. It's what everyone knows. We all need a rock to cling to in the storm.'

'Mrs Smith, I'm not trying to change anything.'

'I think you are, Father. Without realising it, perhaps.'

'I'm not. I'm here to listen and guide you spiritually, if I can. That's all. That's the entirety of my remit. I think you must have misinterpreted my interest in wanting to know what happened to Father Wilfred, Mrs Smith. It's not out of some lurid voyeurism. I'm of the opinion that talking about things is the best way to heal the wounds and move on.'

'The wounds are beginning to heal by themselves, Father. All you're doing is opening them up again.'

'Is that what you think I'm trying to do, Mrs Smith? That I'm somehow trying to sabotage everything?'

'Of course not, Father. I just think you can be a little-well-heavy-handed sometimes. It's your age, perhaps. Foisting your own views upon us. All that about Clement and his mother. It's not for us to deal with. Not when we have so many other things to consider. If you want to listen, then listen to what I'm telling you. Guide us by letting us go the way we know best. We know how to get through all this.'

'By standing still?'

'By sheltering, Father. By being patient.'

'And waiting for what?'

'For things to settle again.'

'And if they don't?'

'Look, Mr Belderboss is vulnerable at the moment, Father. He's still confused by everything that's happened and liable to say things that aren't entirely accurate. I don't want you to go back to Saint Jude's with the wrong impression of Father Wilfred. I know you wouldn't mean to, but things can often slip out and rumours start to spread. It doesn't take much for a reputation to be dismantled.'

'Do you want me to leave, Mrs Smith? Is that it?'

'No, Father. I want you to be our priest.'

'So do I.'

'Then hold onto the rock with us, Father. Until the waters retreat.'

'Mrs Smith, I understand that Wilfred's death has been a significant blow to Saint Jude's, but I think you need to face facts if you want to recover from it. He isn't coming back. There's nothing to hold onto anymore.'

'There is, Father,' she said. 'We have Andrew.'

'And what does Andrew think about that?'

There was silence and after a moment Mummer excused herself curtly and went out of the room. Father Bernard didn't stir for some time. Then I heard the sound of a bottle opening and its contents going into a gla.s.s.

Chapter Twenty-two.

The day of the visit to the shrine came around and Hanny was the centre of attention from the moment we got downstairs, where everyone was drinking tea and helping themselves to the apples that Father Bernard had picked the day before. The men had adopted a strange kind of machismo and clapped Hanny on the shoulder and shook his hand, as though they were pages fitting their knight for battle.

Mummer had a basin of hot water ready and she and Mrs Belderboss washed Hanny's face and hands slowly and carefully.

'The Lord will come upon you today,' said Mrs Belderboss. 'I know He will. You're ready. It's your time.'

Father Bernard packed a bag with the things that he would need. Some matches. His stole. A small silver chalice that he had brought from Saint Jude's.

When he had finished he sat at the table with Monro next to him. He said nothing but stroked the dog's head and watched them attending to Hanny, who lapped up the fuss and smiled as Mummer combed his hair and then took a pair of scissors to his nails. He caught my eyes and kissed his fingers. The poor sod thought all this was for Else. Perhaps he thought he was going to marry her. That this was the day she would give him the child and they would be together.

'What does that mean?' said Mummer. 'Why is he doing that with his hand?'

'I don't know,' I said.

'Why don't you tell him where we're going,' she said, nodding at the chair next to her for me to sit down.

I did as I was told and touched Hanny on the arm.

'Hanny, I said. 'We're going to see G.o.d.'

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. G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 b.u.t.tons 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 G.o.d's special place,' she said, fastening the b.u.t.tons. 'You mustn't be afraid. You mustn't get upset. Because if you do then G.o.d 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 b.u.t.tons and stood back waiting for the reaction she knew would come. No one had spotted it before, but a large crucifix had been st.i.tched into the front of the shirt, the pleat for the b.u.t.tons 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, pa.s.sing 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed along the path as quickly as possible. Father Bernard stopped and ran his hand through them.

'Oh, mind they don't come away, Father,' Mr Belderboss said. 'You'll take the sins home with you.'

We came to where Hanny was looking at a statue of Saint Francis that had fallen over and smashed. His head had cracked off and rolled into the undergrowth and wood lice swarmed in and out of his hollow body.

'Oh, Esther,' said Mrs Belderboss. 'It's such a shame.'