The Translation of the Bones by Francesca Kay Read Free Book Online Page B

Especially not during Lent. Perhaps he’s ill, her husband said. Oh no, said Mrs. Armitage. Not if I know him. He’d have to be on his own deathbed before he’d think of doing that. They eyed the waiting people curiously. They seemeda bit agitated. Girls on some sort of sightseeing thing, Mrs. Armitage told Larry. You know, one of those tours with all the stops prearranged. That must be why they’re taking pictures. Although we’re not usually on the tourist map. Their tour guide must’ve got it wrong, said Larry. Battersea and Westminster, well, they are both by the river. Maybe they sound the same in Japanese. Honestly, Larry! Mrs. Armitage clicked her tongue against her teeth.
    Members of the regular congregation started to arrive. As they did, each one tried the door and looked surprised. Has he forgotten that the clocks changed? several asked. Mrs. Armitage began to fret that there would not be enough time to get out the hymnbooks. She caught sight of Mary-Margaret walking slowly up the road. Save us, she said to Larry, and at once regretted her lapse of charity. Poor Mary-Margaret. She meant no harm.
    At five to eleven the door opened slightly and Father Diamond peered out. The tourists rushed toward him. Father Diamond barred their way with his arm. Visitors who genuinely wish to attend mass are most welcome, he said, with dignity. But this is a place of worship. Cameras and mobile phones are not allowed. The people at the front repeated his words to the others further back and there was an outburst of excited chatter. Okay, okay, a woman said. No problem.
    Father Diamond opened the door wide and stepped back. As the visitors streamed past him, he was clearly looking for someone he recognized. Mrs. Armitage, he said gratefully, when he found her. On hymnbook and welcoming duty as usual? That’s good. We seem to have a little problem in the second chapel so I have roped it off. I’dbe awfully grateful if you and Larry could make sure no one tries to move the ropes. What’s up then, Father? Larry asked, but Father Diamond pointed to his watch and hurried off.
    Mr. and Mrs. Armitage observed that while a few of the visitors wandered around as if they were not sure what they were looking for and a few took places in the pews, most made straight for the Chapel of the Holy Souls. Father Diamond had lined up a row of chairs across the entrance, linking them together with string. Not an especially effective barricade, Mrs. Armitage said to herself. She busied herself with getting the hymnbooks off their shelf and into piles; it was annoying that all these new people had come in at once and hadn’t stopped as regulars did to collect their books and service sheets. But at least, she noted approvingly, someone, probably Father D, had put the offerings and the collection plates on the right spot. Then she noticed that the woman who had spoken up on behalf of the group, and was a good bit older than the rest, was shunting the line of roped-up chairs aside to clear the chapel entrance. Larry! ordered Mrs. Armitage. He followed her pointing finger and turned back to her, looking a little helpless. But then, bravely, he marched off to the chapel and shunted the chairs back. The woman said something to him. Mrs. Armitage kept her eye on him approvingly as he answered, making gestures that clearly indicated where she and her friends were supposed to be if they wanted to hear mass. Taking his guard duty seriously, he sat squarely in the middle of the row of chairs. He was not an intimidating man, being small and narrow-chested. Mrs. Armitage decidedthat when the mass was under way, she had better station herself there too. First she must give out the hymnbooks.
    Mary-Margaret shambled in, carrying a shopping bag. You’re up and about, Mrs. Armitage greeted her. That’s good. It was a very nasty cut you gave yourself, on your poor head. Mary-Margaret nodded. And I broke my wrist, she said. She wandered off, up the nave toward