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“Good lad.” I hugged an arm around him.

Bernard jutted his chin towards the kitchen door. “Will she be alright?”

“She always is.”

* * *

The doorbell chimedwith three short rings. Bernard and I stood up from where we’d sat on the stairs, awaiting our visitor. Our hair was combed, and we were wearing shirts, shorts, and polished shoes — our Sunday best. Mum hopped down the hallway, muttering something inaudible under her breath, a zesty scent trailing behind her. She stopped for a quick glance in the hallway mirror, scrunching her fingers in her hair and pinching at the edges of her rouged lips. She turned to us as she wiped her palms on her apron.

“Boys, have you shut Pyg in the studio?”

We nodded and stood straight as Mum opened the front door.

“Henry,” she said, her voice low and warm.

“Hello, El.” The priest stepped inside, his hand grazing Mum’s arm as he passed.

“Hello, Father Higgins,” Bernard and I said in unison.

“My goodness, have you grown since last month? George, you must be a whole head taller.” The priest’s face split into a wide grin.

Bernard beamed as Father Higgins patted his head.

“I’ll see you both in a while,” the priest whispered and gave us a wink.

Mum led him through to the drawing room, Bernard and I followed, but stopped to hover in the doorway. Grandmother’s sour face lit up at the sight of the clergyman.

“Father Higgins, how wonderful to see you. Oh, I have been looking forward to our prayers and discourse. Eleanor, fetch the tea, will you? Father must be parched.” She flicked her twiggy wrist, dismissing Mum. Father Higgins turned and threw her a small smile, unseen by my grandmother.

Mum playfully nudged me as she passed. Father Higgins folded his tall frame into the armchair opposite our grandmother. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the high sash windows, shining on the priest and making his blonde hair glow like a halo. He leaned forward and took the old woman’s hand, which elicited a rare smile from her lips.

“How are you, Mrs Shaw?”

Her fleeting smile fell away. “Oh, Father, I’m grateful you’re here. It’s been a testing time, what with Eleanor and those little b… boys, and now she’s gone and got them a dog, would you believe? My patience has worn thin.” She released a haughty groan. “I try, I do try. But they push me to the very edge…” Her willowy voice withered into an anguished sob.

The priest’s gaze flicked to us in the doorway, but his face reflected nothing but empathy for the old woman as he appraised her with his blue eyes. He continued to hold her liver-spotted hand.

I clenched my fists as the injustice of it all pulsed through me.The old witch never tries. She’s nothing but vile to all of us.Why does Father Higgins buy this crap?

“Well, God’s will is that we are patient and kind to those in our charge. It’s these challenges we’re faced with that present our truest test of character. This week, shall we read from the New Testament for a change, perhaps Corinthians?”

The old woman nodded solemnly.

“Excuse me, boys.” Mum strode past, holding an ornate tea tray. Grandmother huffed and sat back as our mother placed the cups and saucers on the table and poured the tea.

“Milk, Father?” she asked with a smile that shone through her eyes.

The priest nodded.

“No milk for me. Where’s the lemon?”

“I shall fetch it now, Mother.” Mum strained her words through gritted teeth.

Grandmother tutted, Mum ignored it and smiled at the priest again.

“I baked, Father. It’s a new recipe from the Women’s Institute with lemon and poppyseed. Would you like a slice?”

“That would be?—”