Free A Turbulent Priest by J. M. Gregson Page B

to quote the phrases exactly — “‘He was a good man… A kind man. Always available when there was trouble… Always very good when there was a death in the family… Thoughtful about people, understanding.’ We want to know what you can add to that. And, frankly, whether you agree with all of it.”
    Again that pause before she replied. Lucy found herself wishing that all their interviewees would give such thought to their words before they spoke. Percy Peach, on the other hand, much preferred people to speak on impulse, because they gave away so much more of themselves that way. But then Mrs MacMullen was not one of the suspects Percy was most at home with but an innocent, intelligent woman, genuinely helping them with an enquiry. Eventually she said, “I wouldn’t quarrel with any of that. Martha’s a good woman, and she saw more of John Bickerstaffe than any of us. But priests are men like other men, with human weaknesses as well as virtues.”
    Peach, who still found it odd to hear people using the first names of priests, said, “I can’t give you the detail of what Bishop Hogan told us about the situation. But it may help you to know that he indicated that Father Bickerstaffe was to be relieved of his duties as Parish Priest of the Sacred Heart.”
    “Yes. I suppose that was inevitable. I’m sorry it had come to that. He was a good man in so many ways. But if a man can’t be trusted with children, you can’t have him anywhere around them. Their only defence is the one we can give them.”
    They knew with these phrases not only that she knew about the priest’s activities, but that she had defended the children in her school herself, against other abuses than his. Despite her comfortable appearance, Percy knew in that moment that he would not have cared to be brought into this room as an erring parent. He said, “Were there children in your school who suffered from John Bickerstaffe’s actions?”
    “No. Not while they were in my school. These were older children, ex-pupils of this school — aged twelve to fourteen, I think.” She gave the impression that whoever had dared anything of the sort with children in her school would have had her to reckon with very quickly. But it was evident that Mrs MacMullen was in touch with both her pupils and the community around them; clearly not much would have escaped her.
    “Would you agree that the abuses which went on centred around the youth club in the church hall?”
    Her eyes strayed automatically to the building he mentioned. The high, windowless gable of the rear side of the hall was just visible through her window, beyond the stone wall which encircled the primary-school playground. “Yes, it seems so. The club kept a lot of children off the streets, and I like to think Father Bickerstaffe started it without any evil intentions in mind — but I don’t suppose that matters now.”
    “No. We’re not here to judge him about that, but to try to find who killed him. But what does matter is that we have full details of what was going on. That means which children were abused, and anything you know of their parents’ reactions when they discovered what was happening.”
    There was the now familiar pause whilst she weighed the question and what her answer would be. Then she said, “Yes, I see that. I don’t know any of the details of the assaults: as they were on former pupils of mine, not current ones, I didn’t need details. But I’ll tell you everything I know.”
    She gave them a series of names, a sad register of a man’s sins against those least fitted to cope with his attentions. Four were the names they had collected on the previous day from their visit to the Bishop’s residence. But their visit to the Sacred Heart RC Primary School was not wasted. Mrs MacMullen added a fifth name, which stopped them in their tracks for a moment. It was the name not of an abused child, but of an adult who had recently been in contact with John