Clay by David Almond Read Free Book Online Page B

nobody nothing! Tell them nowt!”

five
    There was a knock at the shed door; then Father O’Mahoney came in. He stood there tall beside us in his black suit with the single band of white around his throat. His coppery hair gleamed. There was a scent of incense on him.
    “Now then, lads,” he said.
    “Hello, Father,” I said.
    “Aye, aye, Davie. You’ve found a couple of pals for yourself, then, Stephen.”
    Stephen smiled.
    “Yes, Father.”
    “That’s grand.”
    The priest ran a finger through the dust on the bench. He straightened the crucifix. He lifted the baby.
    “There’s an artist come among us, Davie. Did you ever see the like of these grand things?”
    “No, Father.”
    “Indeed no. God lavishes his gifts on some. Thanks be.”
    He crossed himself. He allowed his gaze to linger on me.
    “Are you all right, Davie?”
    “Aye, Father. Yes.”
    “Nothing troubling you?”
    “No, Father.”
    He rested his open hand on my head for a moment.
    “To some God gives a true and simple heart,” he said. “Do you see that, Stephen?”
    “I do,” said Stephen.
    “There are some who would make use of such a thing. Who would take advantage of it.”
    “I know that, Father. Davie’ll be a good friend for me, Father.” The priest clasped his hands and nodded at the two of us.
    “That’s grand,” he said. “That’s just what I would hope. We must care for each other in our time on earth. It is the simplest of things and the most difficult of things.”
    He lifted up the kneeling figure of an angel. “Just look at this!” he breathed in admiration. He tapped his cheek, deep in thought.
    “Would you like me to go, Father?” I said.
    He laughed, like he’d been brought back to his senses.
    “Ha! Indeed no. That is, if Stephen doesn’t mind discussion of some private matters before you.”
    Stephen shook his head.
    “That’s grand,” murmured the priest. “Davie should know which way the land lies if he’s to be a pal of yours. So. I come from a visit to your mother, Stephen.”
    Stephen’s face fell.
    “Do you?” he whispered.
    “Indeed,” said the priest. He turned to me. “Your pal’s mother has been very ill, Davie. You must know that. And you must also know some of the tittle-tattle that surrounds it. You must take no notice of that. Some of us, like Stephen’s mother, are tested much more severely than others are.”
    “How is she?” whispered Stephen.
    The priest sighed.
    “A little better, I believe. We prayed together. I ministered communion to her. We talked a little of Whitley Bay and the beaches there. Ha! She told me about ice creams and bags of chips and spinning on the roundabouts when she was a little girl. It sounded so grand!”
    “Did she mention me?” said Stephen.
    “Ah, now.”
    “Did she?”
    “She is distracted, Stephen. She sleeps a great deal. She is calm. The medication does its work.” He tried to rest his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, but Stephen shrugged it off. “And she will come out of it, my son. Very soon, perhaps. They thought they could assure me of that.”
    Silence again. Stephen stared blankly at the floor. The dust fell on him. The priest stood close by his side.
    “We must remember, I suppose,” he said, “that the Lord himself was tested more than any other.”
    He glanced up through the little window in the roof and shook his head. He murmured a quick prayer over Stephen’s head.
    “This is all private stuff, now, Davie,” he said. “You understand that?”
    “Aye, Father.”
    “That’s grand.” He rubbed his hands together. “And now,” he said, “I believe your good aunt Mary was about to put a kettle on.”
    He opened the door, stepped out, then leaned back in again.
    “Aha!” he said. He winked at Stephen “Nearly forgot. I heard somebody giggling about your new pal, Stephen.”
    We said nothing.
    “I did. A nice lass named…ah, it’s slipped my mind.” He winked again. “Soon they’ll all be after him. And