Read Online The Feast by Margaret Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B

fuzz of trees beneath an enormous church—the Church of St. Sody, who came long ago out of Ireland, in a stone boat, with ten thousand other saints.
    For the best part of the year the services are poorly attended, for most of the cottagers go to Chapel and the better-off parishioners dislike the Anglo-Catholicism of Father Bott. But in the summer season the beauty of the cliff walk, the fame of the choir, and rumours of fantastic ritual, bring a trickle of visitors from Porthmerryn. Mass at St. Sody’s is attended by people from the Marine Parade Hotel who do not generally go to church at all.
    Bruce, however, did not climb that steep hill for love of Plain Song, or for the sake of coastal scenery, or to see a man who was said to bring a donkey into the chancel on Palm Sunday. He went because he was told to do so. His mistress had a fancy to see the place and had ordered him to escort her. So he was waiting, rather sulkily, in the hotel lounge, conscious of critical glances from the other residents.
    Presently she appeared at the top of the stairs. The cruel light of the morning sun, blazing down upon her from the staircase window, so emphasized her age, her bulk and her dowdiness that he felt considerably reassured. None but the nastiest mind, he thought, could supposehim to be more than a secretary-chauffeur to so ripe an employer.
    ‘Don’t you have to wear a hat?’ he asked, as they went out of the hotel.
    ‘My God!’ said Mrs. Lechene. ‘I hope not! D’you think they’ll throw me out of church? I haven’t got a hat.’
    She couldn’t get a hat if she tried, thought Bruce. No hat ever made would go on that head. I ought to be thankful her hair is up and not down.
    For Anna Lechene was very proud of her hair which was true gold, very thick, quite straight, and hung to her knees. She missed no occasion for letting it so hang. But when obliged to put it up she braided it in thick cables and wound it round her head. The effect was striking though top-heavy.
    ‘At least I’m not wearing slacks,’ she said. ‘I’ve put on a dress, haven’t I?’
    Yes, but what a dress! All right for a kid of thirteen. Nobody over twenty ought to wear these dirndls. Oh, all right! I know all the grandmas do in Macedonia or wherever it is you got it from. But this isn’t Macedonia.
    He stared venomously at Anna’s broad back as he followed her along Fore Street. He was a changeable young man. Not long ago he had admired Anna’s golden head and peasant embroideries. But now he was glad when he had got her out of the crowded street on to a flight of steps which led up the hill.
    ‘Where is this church we’re going to?’ he asked.
    ‘It’s on the cliffs, half way to Pendizack. You must have seen the tower.’
    ‘Oh? Oh yes…. I have.’
    His spirits rose. For that tower was quite near Nancibel’s cottage. He had noticed it last night, standing up against the evening sky. He might see her again. She might be in church.
    Mrs. Lechene, panting slightly for the steps were steep, was talking about Father Bott. She had heard that he was a remarkable man.
    ‘A celibate,’ she added meditatively.
    Lucky So-and-so, thought Bruce, and made vague noises of assent while Anna speculated upon the causes and effects of celibacy in Father Bott.
    At the top of the hill they passed an ugly little building called Bethesda whence the first hymn of the morning already resounded:
    O h that will be
    Glory for me !
    Glory for me !
    Glory for me !
    And he reflected that he ought to be grateful to Anna for not taking him there, unaware that Nancibel was inside it, with all her family. She got time off from Pendizack on Sunday mornings to go to Chapel. But he still hoped to find her among the flock at St. Sody’s, and pressed on towards that tall square tower.
    What will she think, he pondered, as the great pure curve of the sea came once more into view. What will she think about me and Anna? Nothing. Why should she think anything? If I meet her