The hearse led us into Anfield Cemetery, where injured grey figures beneath the trees wore crowns of fallen leaves. As the limousine halted beside an expanse of grass on which new stones gleamed white or black, I caught sight of the window of my childhood bedroom. Nobody was there—the house was unoccupied, and I would have to put it up for sale— but for a moment I felt threatened by fancying that time had played a trick. I was recalling how I’d watched Noble and his daughter from my window, and the impression seemed more present than an ordinary memory. If I’d been watching now I would have seen a father and another child under Noble’s influence.
Father Harty came to the family grave as the undertaker’s quartet lowered the coffin onto a stand. He led the mourners in a farewell prayer, and when we all had the last word I thought Toby said “Our men” or else “Ah well.” I was distracted by the woman whose voice I’d kept hearing at the church, who appeared to be trying to stay inconspicuous. The priest blessed the coffin before it sank into the earth, and then an undertaker’s man who looked permanently stooped by the weight of a succession of coffins handed me a miniature spade with which to scatter earth on the wooden lid. Lesley followed me, and Toby copied us while looking puzzled. “Can grandad hear that?” he said.
I saw how his innocence charmed and touched the mourners. I tried not to think he was pretending to be naive, unless he was referring to a notion Christian Noble had put into his head. “I’m sure it won’t disturb your grandfather,” the priest said.
Mourners started queuing for the ceremonial spade, and I watched the woman in the black headscarf advance towards the grave. She was almost the last to take the spade, and lingered over spilling earth. I was about to approach her when Toby said “Grandma isn’t waiting down there, is she?”
The woman retreated into the crowd, and I told myself that he couldn’t have meant to let her escape. “Of course not,” Father Harty said. “They’re both elsewhere and you’ll see them again when it’s time.”
Even this conjured up Christian Noble’s activities, though not in Toby’s mind, I hoped. I saw gravediggers waiting for us to depart so that they could fill the grave in. As I headed for the limousine I tried to see which car the woman made for, but couldn’t find her in the crowd. The limousine gained speed once we reached the road, and I remembered thinking as a child that people always drove away from funerals faster than they went to them, as if they’d jettisoned some ballast that had been weighing them down.
Soon we were back at St Gabriel’s. The entrance lobby led both to the church and to an elongated windowless concrete extension, the church hall. I stood outside with my family to shake hands and accept the occasional respectful hug along with everyone’s sympathetic comments. At first I didn’t see the woman I was looking for, because her scarf had drooped around her wiry neck. As the queue ahead of her grew shorter my palms kept turning clammy, and I had to wipe the right one on my funereal jacket. Her approach left my throat dry, which reduced my voice to little more than a croak, and when she reached me I took an audible breath to compensate if not to brace myself. “You’re the lady who put so much into the hymns,” I said.
“Amy Hennessey. I’m one of the old souls.”
Just in time not to show any unease I recollected that Old Souls was the club for the elderly that Father Harty organised. All the same, her handshake was so dry I might have called it reptilian, and so light it felt insinuating. “Truly sorry that you’ve lost your father,” she said.
“You think I have, then?”
“I imagine even Father Harty would,” she said and made for the church hall.
I followed the last mourners into the long room, where a pair of trestle tables were covered with a buffet. Toby gave them a hungry look as Jim’s and Bobby’s parents joined us to be introduced to Lesley and my son. “You’ve been a credit to your parents,” Mrs Parkin told him, “and I know your grandpa would have been proud of you too.”
She and Mrs Bailey began discussing him with Lesley, and I turned to the men. “We heard you saw our Jim and Bill’s daughter in London,” Mr Bailey said.
“Yes, at Bobby’s book launch, or I should say Bob’s.”
Mr Parkin made a face and then another. “Is she still with that woman?”
“Carole, do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t know what it calls itself. The one that helped to make her into what she thinks she’s got to be.” As I searched for a response I would be comfortable with giving he said “At least Desmond saw your Toby, and Kevin here’s seeing his Jim’s kids. I don’t reckon we’ll be seeing any grand-kids out of her.”
“She and her partner could always adopt if they wanted.”
Though I was taking Bobby’s side, my retort seemed almost childishly unwise now it was out. While Mr Parkin didn’t bother grimacing, his tone did the job. “You’d like to see a kid brought up in that kind of setup.”
“There are worse ways to bring up a child.” At once I saw my cue and realised Lesley wasn’t listening. “Christian Noble’s, for instance,” I said.
“Not much wrong with being Christian if you do what the man really said. Him and Marx might have got on, I reckon.”
“I’m talking about somebody called Christian. His name’s a pretence like the rest of him.” I was growing desperate, because I didn’t know how long Lesley might be occupied elsewhere, and hardly sufficiently far away either. “You remember Mr Noble,” I pleaded with Jim’s father. “You and my dad organised getting him fired from Holy Ghost because of the things be was trying to teach us.”
“That’s not quite how I remember it.” Before I could pursue this he said “You saw how he affected people, Bill. The lady who showed up at the coronation party with her dog, it was his ideas that drove her mad.”
“I’m with you now. They got his dad run over by a tram as well.”
“And now he’s teaching them to children Toby’s age and even younger,” I said. “He has to be stopped, and I could use some help.”
Both men gazed at me, and I was afraid I’d said too much too soon. “Still teaching, is he?” Mr Parkin said. “How old’s the bugger now?”
“I don’t think he’s a teacher in that sense. He’s involved in, in a children’s care facility, and his daughter is as well.”
“Involved how?” Mr Bailey said.
“He’s feeding all the children his beliefs, and she’s helping. You’ve seen what they can do to adults, so what do you think—”
“Are they doing anything illegal?”
“If it isn’t,” I said desperately, “it most certainly ought to be.”
“A lot of things ought,” Mr Parkin said. “What our Roberta’s up to would be if it wasn’t for a queen that was even more ignorant than most of her lot. Victoria, that was. Wouldn’t believe there was such things as Roberta and that woman.”
“Bill,” his wife murmured behind me. “Please, not here.”
I said no more until the women recommenced talking, and then I kept my voice low. “Even if it’s technically legal you surely wouldn’t want children to be indoctrinated with it. You wouldn’t have wanted it for Bobby or Jim.”
“There’s a lot of things I don’t want in her head,” Mr Parkin retorted, “but I’ve found out I can’t stop them. I’ve given up trying before it knocks any more years off my life.”
“If this Noble fellow and his daughter aren’t breaking the law,” Mr Bailey said, “I can’t see what’s to be done.”
He glanced past me, and I realised the women had fallen silent. When I looked around I saw Lesley watching me, and Toby was. Mrs Parkin read my wife’s face and moved away. “Come and get something to eat, Bill.”
“We will too,” Mrs Bailey said and waited to make sure her husband followed.
It was plain that Lesley didn’t know how much to say. I saw her decide and part her lips, just as Father Harty joined us. “Did you want to ask me a question, Toby?” he said.
Toby looked puzzled if not daunted. “Did I,
mum?” he said.
“Not as far as I know either,” I was provoked to tell him.
The priest dropped to one knee, an action meant to bring him closer to the boy rather than heralding a prayer. “Didn’t you want to know what I was giving people at communion?”
“Little biscuits.”
“Wafers, that’s correct. A bit like the ones I expect you’ve had with ice cream.”
When Toby didn’t respond, never having had any such thing, Lesley said “Like a cornet, Toby.”
“That’s so, a cornet.” Just the same, Father Harty seemed to feel his theme was making an escape. “Now this may be hard for you to understand,” he said, “but God can change every one of those wafers into himself.”
“I’ve seen things change like that.” As the priest looked indulgent but skeptical Toby said “What does he taste like?”
“Just the same. The change takes place inside us, in our soul. Don’t worry if all this is a bit too much for you to grasp just yet.”
“I know things as big as that,” Toby protested.
“Well then, would you like to tell me what you believe?”
“Shall I, mum?”
“You tell Father Harty,” I urged before Lesley could speak. “Tell him some of your beliefs.”
When Toby hesitated the priest said “What have you been thinking today? I’m sure they were good thoughts.”
“Clouds are shapes dead people try and take,” Toby said and pointed at the ceiling in lieu of the sky. “Up there it’s dark for ever and ever.”
Father Harty gripped one knee to shove himself to his feet, and I could have thought he was recoiling until he patted Toby’s head. “Your grandad used to say you were an imaginative little chap like your father,” he said. “Just have a think about the things we were saying in church, though. They aren’t stories like those, they’re the truths God tells us.”
I was on the edge of asking him where he thought Toby’s notions came from, but he moved away to speak to some of his parishioners. “Shall we have our food now?” Toby said.
He sounded like a boy of his age, and I yearned to believe that this was still the core of him—that Christian Noble hadn’t laid claim to his essence, changing it for good or very much the opposite before I was able to save it. “Let’s,” I said and ushered Lesley after him.’
Several women who I guessed were widows watched appreciatively while he heaped a paper plate with sandwiches and sausage rolls and crisps and quiche. I was making a rather less ambitious selection when I saw Amy Hennessey retrieve her coat from a hook near the door, and I put my plate down. “Miss Hennessey,” I called.
I wasn’t sure whether she heard me through the mass of conversations. She didn’t linger to put on her coat before heading for the exit, and I hurried across the room. “Mrs Hennessey,” I tried calling. “Amy, do you have to leave so soon?”
When she turned I thought she’d taken time to render her expression blank. “What is it, Mr Sheldrake?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk.”
“We did before,” she said and shrugged her coat on. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends.”
“You won’t be. By all means stay and talk.”
She looked down at a button she was fitting through its hole. “What about, sorry?”
“Why are we all here? About my father.”
“I thought you said it all. Will you excuse me?”
I was growing so tense that I blurted “For what?”
“For coming to the funeral, if you like.” As she turned away she said “According to you he’s with who he wanted to be with.”
Before I could ask where she thought my father was, she hurried out of the church hall. I was making to pursue her when Lesley caught my arm. “For heaven’s sake, Dominic,” she said low. “What was all that about?”
I swung around to face the room, which involved pulling free of her grasp. “Does anyone here know Amy Hennessey?” I called. “What does she have to do with my father?”
“She’s one of us widows,” said a woman who had watched Toby at the buffet. “She’s had her eye on him since she joined Old Souls.”
“What do you mean, had her eye?”
“What on earth do you imagine, Dominic?” Lesley said, trying to conceal her distress. “No, never mind what you imagine. Just realise what this lady means.”
When the woman’s face confirmed she thought Amy Hennessey’s intentions had been amorous, I said “When did she join you?”
“Not long after Christmas,” my informant said.
“Not long before my father died,” I muttered and saw I’d made Lesley feel worse. However irrational my comment might sound, I felt the woman could have thought it likely that my father hadn’t long to live. “Let’s not leave Toby on his own,” I said, only to sense that Lesley couldn’t be sure why I did.
My outburst had undermined the gathering. Once a few mourners began to make their exit the rest weren’t slow in following. Jim’s and Bobby’s parents were the last to leave, saying in various ways that they hoped all would be well. By now the occasion felt like a postponement of whatever Lesley had in store to say to me. So did the rest of the day until Toby was asleep, having read to us how Alice wondered what would become of her when she succumbed to uncontrollable growth. Perhaps my unease with the idea was apparent, and a further reason why Lesley confronted me once we were downstairs. “Dominic, you can’t keep on behaving how you did today. When are you going to see someone?”
I had to persuade her I was giving in while I tried to plan on Toby’s behalf. “If you have Colin Hay’s number,” I said, “I’ll see if I can make an appointment right now.”
My fingers seemed to want to fumble as I dialled. Certainly they felt stiff and almost too swollen for my forefinger to fit into the holes. If this was reluctance, I needn’t have suffered it, because the number proved to be out of use. Directory Enquiries told me Dr Colin Hay was no longer to be found in Britain. At least I didn’t have to convince Lesley of this, since she’d overheard. “You’re going to have to speak to someone, all the same,” she insisted, and at once I knew who it had to be.
15 - Helpers
“I saw your parents yesterday, Jim.”
“I haven’t spoken to them yet this week. How were they? How’s your dad?”
“They don’t change any more than you do. My dad’s gone. They were at his funeral.”
“I’m so sorry, Dom. I wish I’d known. Your parents weren’t any older than mine, were they? You don’t expect them to be taken so soon.”
“Taken.” The word meant more and worse to me than I knew it did to him. “He had a fall,” I said, “and then he caught pneumonia in hospital.”
“I thought they were supposed to be able to cure that.” Jim’s protest vibrated the phone at my ear before he said more gently “May he rest in peace, and your mother.”
“I hope that too.”
“They’ll be in my prayers, and I know my parents will say one. Do you still go in for that at all?”
“I haven’t since before we left school. Speaking of which—”
“Maybe you should give it another chance. It’s never really gone, and it might be a comfort to you.” When I didn’t answer he said “Will you have some family who are?”
“A wife and a son,” As a response this felt close to dishonest. “Your parents mentioned you have children,” I said.
“Robert and Dominic. They’re quite a pair.”
For the duration of a long breath I had no words. “Jim, thank you, really. I wish I’d known when he was christened.” This sounded like a rebuke, and so did “Why didn’t you say when we saw Bobby? Or did you tell her before I showed up?”
“Carole gave me the feeling she didn’t care much for youngsters, so I kept mine to myself. Why didn’t you say you had a family? Was there someone you didn’t want to know about them?”
He’d begun to sound like the police officer he was, but then it
was this side of him I needed. “It might have been because I was worried for my son,” I said.
“They can keep you awake at night and no mistake. What’s the worry with yours?”
I took a prolonged breath as an aid to taking care how much I said. “Toby’s had a sleep disorder pretty well since he was born. Nocturnal absences, I’ve heard them called. Seizures in his sleep.”
Jim was silent long enough to let me wonder if my son’s name had disappointed him. “You’ll be getting him some treatment, won’t you?” he said.
“We thought we’d found the ideal one, only now I’ve discovered Christian Noble and his daughter are involved.”
“Good God, him again?” Jim might have been disgusted with him or with me for bringing Noble up. “I thought he made himself scarce after his church was wrecked,” he said. “What are you telling me he’s up to now?”
“He’s running a private facility where they claim they can treat children with Toby’s condition. Tina Noble has been sending children there. She’s, she’s a paediatrician.” I’d nearly said more than I thought Jim would believe, but I managed to add only “Her father’s putting his ideas in all their heads.”
“They didn’t stick in ours, did they? Not mine, at any rate.”
“He had to keep most of them quiet at school. He doesn’t have to any more, and these children are a lot younger. Toby’s only five.”
“I see that could be serious. So what are you doing about it, Dom?”
“I’ve tried to take him away from the place, but his mother won’t hear of it. She thinks it’s helping him.”
“Do you think she could be right? Women have an instinct for these things, and she sounds a reasonable lady.”
“Yes, she called you about me, didn’t she? What exactly did she say?”
“Just that you seemed a bit obsessed with Noble, and she wanted to know what I thought of him.”
“Has she spoken to you since?”
“She hasn’t, old friend. I don’t know why she would.”
Born To The Dark Page 16
