'Don't you know?' she whispers confidentially. 'Joseph caught Father John in the church with another man. But don't tell anyone, and don't whisper a word to Father Timothy, otherwise there'll be hell to pay.'
I don't understand. What's wrong if Father John was with another man in the church? Father Timothy is with other men all the time in the church. Like when he listens to confessions.
* * *
Today, for the first time, I am in the confession box.
'Yes, my son, what have you come to tell me?' asks Father Timothy.
'It is me, Father.'
Father Timothy almost jumps out of his chair. 'What are you doing here, Thomas? Haven't I told you this is not a joking matter?'
'I have come to confess, Father. I have sinned.'
'Really?' Father Timothy softens. 'What wrong have you done?'
'I peeped inside Father John's room through the keyhole. And I looked at some of his things without his permission.'
'That's quite all right, my son. I don't think I want to hear about that.'
'No, you must, Father,' I say, and proceed to tell him about the magazines under the mattress, the designs on the body, the leather-clad visitors at night, and the snorting of the talcum powder.
That evening there is the mother of all showdowns in the study between the two priests. I listen at the door. There is a lot of shouting. Father Timothy ends the discussion by threatening to report Father John to the Bishop. 'I am a priest,' he says. 'And to be a priest, you have to carry a heavy burden. If you can't do this, then return to the seminary.'
* * *
An English backpacker passing through Delhi came to church this morning and Father Timothy found out that he is also from York. So he brought him home and is allowing him to stay for a few days. He introduces him to me. 'Ian, meet Thomas, who lives with us here. Thomas, this is Ian. Do you know he is also from York? You are always asking me about my mother's city; now you can ask him.'
I like Ian. He is fifteen or sixteen years old. He has fair skin, blue eyes and golden hair. He shows me pictures of York. I see a large cathedral. 'It's called York Minster,' he says. He shows me pictures of lovely gardens and museums and parks.
'Have you met Father Timothy's mother? She also lives in York,' I ask him.
'No, but I will meet her after I return, now that I have her address.'
'What about your own mother? Does she also live in York?'
'She used to. But she died ten years ago. A motorcycle rider crashed into her.' He takes out a picture of his mother from his wallet and shows it to me. She had fair skin, blue eyes and golden hair.
'So why have you come to India?' I ask him.
'To meet my dad.'
'What does your father do?'
Ian hesitates. 'He teaches at a Catholic school in Dehradun.'
'Why don't you also live in Dehradun?'
'Because I am studying in York.'
'Then why doesn't your dad live with you in York?'
'There are reasons. But he comes to visit me three times a year. This time I decided to meet him in India.'
'Do you love your dad?'
'Yes, very much.'
'Do you wish your dad could stay with you for ever?'
'Yes. What about your dad? What does he do?'
'I don't have a dad. I am an idiot orphan boy.'
* * *
Three evenings later, Father Timothy invites Father John to dinner with Ian. They eat and talk late into the night and Father Timothy even plays his violin. Father John leaves some time after midnight, but Father Timothy and Ian continue chatting. I lie in bed listening to the sound of laughter drifting from the open window. I have trouble sleeping.
It is a moonlit night and a strong wind is blowing. The eucalyptus trees in the compound are swaying, their leaves making a rustling noise. I feel like going to the lavatory and get up. As I am walking towards the bathroom, I see a light inside Father John's room. I also hear sounds. I tiptoe to the door. It is closed, so I peer through the keyhole. What I see inside is frightening. Ian is stooped over the table and Father John is bending over him. His pyjamas have fallen down to his feet. I am totally confused. I may be an idiot orphan boy, but I know something is wrong. I rush to Father Timothy, who is fast asleep. 'Wake up, Father! Father John is doing something bad to Ian!' I shout.
'To whom? To Ian?' Father Timothy is immediately alert. Both of us rush to Father John's room and Father Timothy bursts inside. He sees what I have just seen. His face goes so pale, I think he is about to faint. He grips the door to keep himself from collapsing. Then his face becomes red with anger. He almost starts frothing at the mouth. I am scared. I have never seen him this angry before. 'Ian, go to your room,' he thunders. 'And you too, Thomas.'
I do as I am told, even more confused than before.
* * *
