How long had it taken to change a life forever? A minute, ninety seconds – while he listened, barely understanding, as two men destroyed his own young innocence, and allowed another child to die?
Nothing was ever the same after that day. All the days and years that followed had led to this night of hope and fear.
‘Come on, boy, catch up,’ Dominic called. ‘We’ll freeze if we don’t keep moving.’
The only reason he could see the dog at all in the darkness was that his dark gray fur showed up against a thickening carpet of snow underfoot, and the falling flakes that grew heavier with each moment.
Brother Dominic stopped and watched Bogie approach like a trotting miniature show horse in slow motion, lifting each foot as if it burned.
‘OK, we’ll keep each other a bit warmer.’ He swept up his little gray buddy and tucked him inside an old tweed coat. ‘Now, we’ve got to get a move on. This is a borrowed coat and we need to give it back to Percy.’
Talking to his dog was an indulgence Dominic reserved for when they were alone. He smiled at the thought. They were rarely as alone as they were in the middle of this night, on this hill in the Cotswold Hills that were so spectacular in daylight, yet so pitiless when every step was an act of faith.
He had pulled the hood on his habit up to cover his head and ward off some of the cold. The old, brown cloth was already soaked and starting to freeze.
Silence seemed absolute. Except when a gust of wind sent frigid, leafless branches raking together.
Not a single vehicle had passed on the narrow road that forked away from the tiny village below and rose to traverse the hill. There was a scatter of farms and houses up here, all with feeder tracks from the road. But any people out there were probably tucked up and sleeping by now.
You couldn’t see any buildings from the road.
Bogie scrabbled closer and pressed his wet nose to Dominic’s neck.
The wind picked up, drove straight at him, and he leaned against it to push his way on. The snow drove into his face and crammed inside his collar.
He crossed his hands over the dog and pushed his bare hands beneath his arms.
This had to be done.
Old wrongs must be put right, lies dispelled quickly, for the sake of peace, his own but more importantly, the others involved. His challenge was to bring secrets into the light without harming the innocent.
His faith should make him unafraid for himself but he was, after all, still human. And his first attempt at reaching out in friendship had gone so badly.
Below lay the village of Folly-on-Weir but he saw only a few pinpricks glowing from windows.
A light bobbed up the hill, getting quite close, he thought, and stopped. It looked like a lantern rising and falling in a walker’s hand.
Gone.
Ahead he saw the deeper shade of dark where some woods spread along the side of the road.
As hard as he stared, he didn’t see the jiggling light again. Company would be welcome but he shouldn’t expect any.
The walk since the last place he’d found to sleep had been long and often difficult.
A voice carried on the wind. Dominic stood still again and strained to hear, but it must have been his thoughts playing tricks.
‘Help!’
There was nothing imaginary this time. It came from the direction of the woods and Bogie, straining around to see and growling faintly, got rid of any doubt that they had heard something.
‘… hurt!’
Without another second of hesitation, Dominic struck off the road and headed for the woods. The uneven ground was treacherous, tripping him repeatedly, but he blundered on, his pulse pounding at his temples.
The stiff, wet hood fell down around his neck.
Once among the tree trunks, his pace slowed. He had to put Bogie down again and grab at branches as he went.
‘Oh, thank God,’ a man cried out. ‘I see you, keep coming. Over here.’
Dominic speeded up, not caring what he might walk into, and almost yelled with relief when he saw a crouching figure.
When only feet separated them, the man rose and held his torch so that Brother Dominic could see him better, see how he prepared to attack.
He knew it was too late now but he had to try reason. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked.
‘I’m making sure you can’t do more harm,’ the other said. ‘Because I won’t have you spoiling everything, Brother. You should have stayed away, damn you.’