A Pocketful of Thieves by R. J. (Barbara) Stuart

Author:R. J. (Barbara) Stuart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Historical
ISBN: 9781928211570
Publisher: 30 Degrees South Publishers
Published: 2014-10-19T00:00:00+00:00

“Are you going to stay with us?” Liam asked Santie as she picked up her sticks. They lay next to the shepherd’s crook he had bought in Sarria. “Victoria’s sticks are the same as Heila’s,” observed Santie, “and yes, I’ll walk with you again, because I prefer your pace if that’s okay?”

Victoria answered immediately, “Of course you can walk with us and yes, my sticks or poles are the same but longer. I’m taller than your sister.”

“Come on then, ladies,” said Liam “There’s a church around the corner and I want to go into it to light a candle.”

The two followed Liam out of the restaurant. Across the square Liam veered to the left and entered a small, dark church. The altar was quite elaborate and to the one side was a small table with candles. There was no electric lighting and candles flickered eerily from various parts of the nave. There was a faint smell of incense. Three people were kneeling in prayer in different parts of the church and one lady sat in a back pew, ‘policeman like’, watching supplicants. She was dressed in a thick woollen coat. She blended in well enough but on closer scrutiny had a somewhat hostile countenance with hard, penetrating eyes.

Each time the door opened a draught of chilly air entered the building and the candles flickered, casting shadows on the walls. A lady kneeling in the front with a black mantilla covering her face rose and made her way down the aisle. She touched the holy water in the alabaster jar to her forehead and genuflected toward the altar before exiting.

Santie was fascinated. Why are they here? She wondered. Are they asking favours of God or confessing? Time stood still.

Victoria knelt very briefly before the altar, made an obeisance and then walked toward the door. She opened it and followed the woman in the black mantilla out. Liam lit a candle and put some change in the box. He bowed briefly to the altar, crossed himself and walked briskly out. The lady in the back pew looked expectantly at Santie. She had a lined and time-worn face with a beaked nose. She was tiny and bird-like. No one stirred. Santie felt like an intruder. Her silver jewellery and sequins caught the candlelight in sharp flashes. She felt uncomfortable and slightly queasy in the pit of her stomach. The hard eyes were boring into her. She turned abruptly and marched to the door, banging it closed as she gulped in the air outside.

Liam made no comment but led the two women down the Rua San Pedro toward the outskirts of the town, lighting a cigarette as he went. Gradually the crowd began to thin out; Liam set a brisk pace. The path was quite firm but stony and the rain started again. They passed a cemetery where bright yellow daisies peeped out from slabs of cold stone. Santie shuddered.

After a long silence, Victoria asked Liam about his practice and he spoke willingly about his last patient, a much-loved and indulged pet pug that had chewed a tennis ball.

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