Underbelly (2 page)

Father Rossi shook his head and smiled. “No, but I am very pleased to hear that they have left. No one else is in residence there, that you know of?”

“
No. I wish I could tell you more about Laura.”

“
You’ve been a great help. We’ve had a long trip and I would like to retire for the day if you would be so kind as to show me where I’ll be sleeping. If you don’t have a spare bed the floor will be fine,” he said appreciatively.

“
No, I’ve got two beds in the guest room – the mattresses are so thin you might think you’re sleeping on the floor,” he joked, Father Rossi assuring him that they would be fine. Reverend Stuart led him into the cottage where he found Father Sciali kneeling on the floor deep in prayer surrounded by eight large cases.

“
We travel light,” Father Rossi joked. “All of our things will be placed in our room, your home will not be thrown into disorder.”

“
I’ll show you where the room is,” Reverend Stuart said, grabbing the handle of one of the cases and lifting it with effort, finding it heavier than he anticipated.

“
Leave the suitcases. Umberto will take them up when he has finished his prayer if you show me which room is ours.” The guest room was small; most of the floor space taken up by the two single beds and a wardrobe and prayer mat.

“
The cases can stay downstairs,” Reverend Stuart said.

“
No, we’ll fit them in here. We have money to cover our lodgings.”

“
I won’t hear of it,” he said resolutely.

“
Thank you but we will pay our own way, either now or when we leave.”

“
If you must pay we can sort something out when you leave. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but do you have a date in mind when your business will be complete?” he said, angling for information.

“
Our enquiries should be completed within a week. Tomorrow myself and Umberto will begin questioning the villagers with your assistance if that’s convenient.”

“
About Laura?”

“
Yes. If you could introduce us to the elders or anyone else with any connection to Laura, or anyone who may have visited the Greys at the manor, then we’ll take it from there. If you have other plans that’s fine, we’ll…”

“
No, no. I have a service in the evening so I can help you until then, but before you see the villagers I would like to know why you want to question them.”

Father Rossi put his palm on Reverend Stuart’s shoulder and smiled approvingly, pleased that the Reverend was protective of his parishioners. “It will become clear to you, my friend,” was all he offered and it was only when Reverend Stuart had left the room that he realised that that was no answer at all. He heard chanting in Latin from their bedroom, both priests involved, Father Rossi saying each line first followed by a repetition from Father Sciali. Reverend Stuart had a very basic grasp of Latin and gathered they were blessing, or protecting the room. As far as he was concerned they had performed their first miracle by fitting all of the cases in their room and he told them this over a light fish supper (Mary had offered to cook for them all and Reverend Stuart had politely declined, figuring that with another person present he stood even less chance of finding out the whole story).

“
When you first join the priesthood you’re given rooms the size of a kennel so you learn how to fit things in.”

“
Are you allowed to have so many possessions in the Catholic Church? When you’re starting out I mean,” he said, correcting himself, feeling that his question sounded critical, as though he were condemning him for not living an austere lifestyle.

“
We share a suitcase of clothes and the rest of the items are not our own, kindly lent to us for our task,” Father Rossi said, still only revealing information in drips and drabs. “I think we will have to seek out the fisherman tomorrow, Umberto. This is very good, Reverend.”

“
I will go shopping tomorrow and get more food,” he said, wishing that he’d had more in the house so that he could treat them to a lavish meal. Although everything was still rationed, he knew he would be able to acquire what he wanted.

“
No, we will pay for ourselves,” Father Rossi insisted until Reverend Stuart explained the situation, that money alone wasn’t enough to get food and they talked for a while about the food shortage, about the hardships Britain endured during the war. Reverend Stuart tried to bring up Italy and how the war was harder there, the country a fierce war zone, but Father Rossi seemed more interested in extending his sympathy to the British.

“
You may not have been occupied, Reverend, and you weren’t bombed, but your people have lived in fear of your enemy, deadly, close at hand and poised to strike. Do the people of Ravensbeck still live in fear?”

“
No, the war’s over. They’ve never seemed scared, at least not for themselves. By the time I came D-day had already been and we all knew the Western war would be won.” Again Reverend Stuart felt like Father Rossi was revealing tiny pieces of information, hinting that Laura Spencer was a significant threat. He would be there when they talked to the villagers, to monitor them (though he did trust them) and to discover more.

Mary Gillies came round unannounced in the morning, bringing some of her own rations round to cook for them as she politely asked Father Rossi what brought him to town. He knew from Reverend Stuart that Mary had only been in the village since 1939, after Laura had already left Scotland, and, as she couldn’t help him with his enquiries, his answer was equivocal, as he told her what he was doing (‘I’m here seeing the Highlands’) without telling her why. Reverend Stuart was up later than the others and felt like despairing at Mary’s generosity, likely leaving herself with next to nothing in her pantry just to feed them. His meal was already cooked and on a plate ready for him and he ate it, figuring it pointless to let it go to waste, aware that however forceful he was, Mary still wouldn’t eat it.

“
I’ve been telling them there’s some fine walks round these parts, Reverend. Maybe you could show them,” Mary suggested as she cleared away the dishes, Father Sciali helping her with the washing up (of his own volition and against Mary’s wishes, Mary wanting to wait on the holy men and unhappy at seeing him toil, unable to stop him).

“
Perhaps, but I think we have other plans today,” Reverend Stuart said, Father Rossi subtly nodding across the table at this.

“
Really? What will you be doing?”

“
I was thinking of introducing Father Rossi to some of the…and Father Sciali too…introducing them to some of the villagers.”

“
That’s a good idea, Reverend. Marie Walker and her girls are definitely your lot…sorry, Father, you know what I mean. It’ll be a nice surprise for them because the nearest Catholic Church must be at least 20 miles away. I think the Booths are too. Aren’t they Reverend?” Mary said.

“
Yes, they are,” Reverend Stuart said, rushing to finish his food so they could make a move. “Thank you for the meal, Mary, but don’t leave yourself short.”

“
I don’t need much, Reverend. Can you tell Marie that I should be finished making her Dawn’s jumper tomorrow?”

“
If we see her, yes,” Reverend Stuart said, making a sharp exit before she asked who they would be visiting (probably so that she could drop in on them), followed by Father Rossi and Father Sciali.

“
A very nice woman,” Father Rossi said, Father Sciali nodding at this statement.

“
Yes,” Reverend Stuart said, feeling like a sinner for being a little cross with her. “Who would you like to see then, Father?”

Father Rossi had compiled a short list which he pulled from his pocket, putting on a pair of spectacles to read it, Reverend Stuart sneakily looking across at the list, which only had ten names on it, the oldest villagers except for the last name, Laura Spencer’s. Father Rossi read it and then passed the note to Reverend Stuart (had he caught him looking?) and asked who lived nearest to them.

The first conversation was uneventful, the Catholic priests gaining entry by being accompanied by the trusted Reverend Stuart, but the conditions were not conducive to the sort of chat Father Rossi had planned. The woman he hoped to interview was an elderly grandmother who lived with her daughter and husband in a small house with many children running from room to room noisily, heeding each warning to be quiet only for a few minutes before they started again. The grandmother was distracted and when Father Rossi asked about Laura Spencer she said that she barely knew her and when he asked about her mother she said that she didn’t know her at all, Father Rossi bringing the conversation to a premature conclusion. After the two priests had left Reverend Stuart felt compelled to lie to the bemused woman to explain what the questions had been about, inventing a tale of a wounded soldier in Italy who they were trying to help by tracing his fiancée. The next woman they talked to, Ella Bright, lived in similar circumstances, with her son and his family, though they were given privacy and order was maintained with the children. Reverend Stuart had not seen her at church for a while and after Father Rossi had talked to her for a little while it became clearer why this regular churchgoer had been absent. Her once sharp mind was not what it was and while she was willing to help, she kept mixing Laura up with Mary Gillies, the only Englishwomen in the village, telling Reverend Stuart that he should know her best because she was always helping him at the church (he felt himself turn bright red at this and was pleased when Father Rossi realised her mistake, telling her she meant Mary).

“
Do I? Who’s Laura Spencer then?”

After they had left Reverend Stuart felt bad at being unaware of Ella’s mental deterioration (when he lost parishioners from his services he assumed it was down to his inadequacies and never checked up on them) and vowed he would visit her regularly in future. “She did know her. We talked about her last year when she came back.”

“
A lot can change in a year,” Father Rossi said, smiling at him encouragingly. “A lot can change in a week.”

“
Free daze,” Father Sciali said.

“
Exactly, Umberto. Forgive me if you feel I’m speaking out of turn, but I would recommend visiting your parishioners once every three weeks. That is what I try and do,” Father Rossi said, humility preventing him from saying that his parishioners numbered two thousand.

Reverend Stuart sniffed and said, changing the subject, “Hazel Gregory lives in this street as well. Should we go and see her?”

“
Yes. Lead on, Reverend,” Father Rossi said, realising he’d struck a nerve, a nerve that needed exploring as change would be in the best interests of the young churchman and he would advise him more later. It was worth upsetting him if it would help him grow but Father Rossi could not risk antagonising him until more information was disclosed.

Hazel Gregory lived alone and before they had even taken their seats in her home Father Rossi had the measure of her. This loquacious, shrewd woman had lots to say and would be aware of any rumours and would be happy to share them, the kind to divulge the secrets of her own family. After the last two interviewees she was perfect and after pleasantries, during which she flirted with Father Rossi, asking him what he was feeding Father Sciali and where could she get some, Father Rossi brought up Laura’s name.

Hazel snorted at the name and muttered to herself before saying, “That’ll be why yuir here, Father, am I right?” The question was rhetorical, Hazel positive she was correct.

Father Rossi nodded. “How well do you know her, Miss Gregory?”

“
As well as I’d want to know such a one. My sister used to clean for her last century and she looked the same then. Had a Frog lover living with her.”

Father Rossi looked at Umberto, an acknowledgement of something, intriguing Reverend Stuart, who said, correcting her, “That was her mother, Hazel.”

“
Reverend. Yuir a man of God, you should know there’s all manner of beast, fair and fowl, that walk His green earth,” she said, lightly reprimanding him.

Father Rossi turned to the Reverend and said, “I appreciate your help but please let me talk to her.”