Father Francesco’s parish was up in the hills a cool, pleasant retreat from the heat of the distant city in the summertime. He was young and this was his first parish, but he was establishing himself well – he would frequently walk out to the outlying farms and minister to the frail and elderly who could no longer make it to the village. He would spend a morning at the village school telling the children stories and encourage them to draw pictures with their crayons to illustrate them. He was becoming popular with young and old and all in between and he loved the place and the people.
Although really only a village they had appointed Enzo as mayor; an affluent, educated man who owned a business in the city which he left in the capable hands of his manager, while he stayed in the village always trying to write novels that never got published. Once a quarter Enzo would leave his wife and go to the city for a week to briefly ensure all was well with his business.
In the centre of the village Antonio, who worked part time as the postman, and his wife Isabella kept what is best described as a coffee shop – come patisserie – come bistro. It was mainly patisserie by day with coffee for any of Isabella’s friends who wanted to drop in and gossip and meals were served in the evenings when the wine flowed freely.
On Sunday mornings when more of the women than the men attended Mass, the men tended to gather in the shop and drink coffee and yarn. It was at Isabella’s suggestion, with Father Francesco’s enthusiastic agreement and the rather reluctant agreement of Antonio, that a speaker was installed in the coffee shop and on Sunday morning’s Father Francesco’s sermons were relayed to the men in the coffee shop. The sermons were usually short and to the point and the menfolk still went to coffee shop Sunday mornings without complaint.
Father Francesco had engaged a cleaner who cleaned the church and did odd domestic jobs for him. Unfortunately Bianca, his cleaner, was becoming overweight, a little lazy and prone to taking short cuts. For example when Father Francesco felt in need of an espresso coffee and a croissant mid-morning and would ask her to walk down to the coffee shop and fetch them; she would instead go into the church, pick up the radio microphone, switch it on and say, ”Isabella, the usual for Father Francesco please”. Isabella would receive the message over the speaker in the coffee shop and shortly appear bearing coffee and croissant.
On Wednesday mornings Father Francesco would make himself available to hear mid-week confessions. This week the first to appear was Lucia, a very sad faced, but attractive smartly dressed young woman. She lived with her husband, a much, much older man, wealthy and long retired in an opulent villa at the end of the village. A tear trickled down her cheek as she seated herself in the confessional “I love my husband, but now he is old and frail and all I can be is a nurse to tend him,” she whispered ”And Leonardo, our chauffer is so young and kind and handsome and virile. I encouraged him; it was my suggestion – I know we shouldn’t have ………” We must move on.
Next to enter the confessional was Matteo, who owned the delicatessen. Matteo had a reasonably profitable business, but also a very demanding wife who always wanted a new dress or new curtains or a kitchen makeover. He delighted in her charms but sometimes it was difficult to please her and make ends meet. Matteo had recalibrated the scales in his shop, and not in the customers favour and now his conscience was catching up with him.
When Matteo departed Enzo appeared. He had just returned from his quarterly visit to the city to ensure his business was still running smoothly. Father Francesco knew exactly what was coming from Enzo – his quarterly dalliance with a lady of dubious reputation in the city, which Enzo vowed every quarter he would never repeat. Such is the frailty of human nature.
It had been a long day and Father Francesco looked forward to the evening when Antonio had invited him to eat at the bistro, as the coffee shop became at dusk. He sat that evening with Antonio and friends, the food was good and the wine and the company were pleasant too. As more wine was drunk tongues loosened, all sorts of tales were told and they finished up singing songs that were not in the hymnal and when Father Francesco woke next morning he was still in his socks and underwear not his pyjamas.
Not many days passed before something wrong became apparent in the village. When Lucia appeared anywhere in the village people turned aside and whispered and sniggered. Regular customers stopped going to Matteo’s shop. It was rumoured that Enzo’s wife was threatening to leave and divorce him. Then one day in Matteo’s shop Lucia expressed some doubts about Father Francesco and Matteo said he shared them and overhearing them, Enzo said “Me too.” And so they decided Enzo should write to the Bishop.
The Bishop arrived in the village the very next weekend. Father Francesco was suspended from all duties. He buried his head in his hands in abject sorrow thinking “Oh no! surely not, surely I didn’t say what I should not that Wednesday night in the Bistro”. If ever a man was filled with grief and pain and remorse he was then. The thought of having to leaving the place and the people he’d grown to love was awful.
The Bishop announced that he would conduct Mass on the Sunday morning, and before Mass he would hear confessions. The first two people to arrive at the confessional were Isabella from the coffee shop and Bianca the cleaner and in spite of the Bishop’s protests “Ladies one at time please.” They insisted on squeezing into the confessional together and started speaking very tearfully at the same time, until finally Bianca spoke alone. “It was my fault on that Wednesday morning,” she lamented. “I had the microphone in my apron pocket switched on ready to call for Father Francesco’s coffee and it must have dropped out when I was cleaning the confessional and I could not retrieve it until later.” Then Isabella interrupted “I was alone in the coffee shop and when I heard the voices, and I soon guessed what had happened and should have switched the speaker off, but curiosity got the better of me. After all I heard I just had to tell Giovanna and Arianna on strict condition that they told no one else, but they were like me and it just kept getting repeated.”
The Bishop announced before his sermon that Father Francesco had been totally exonerated and reinstated and explained there had been a great misunderstanding. Father Francesco was relieved and joyful, though like many in the congregation he was unaware of what had earlier transpired. The Bishop said something about greenhouses and throwing stones and a woman taken in adultery whose accusers had slunk away. Then he preached from the Epistle of James on how difficult it was to tame the tongue, how a spark of gossip can set a community on fire. He spoke so powerfully it must have left all gossipers in fear of hellfire and eternal damnation.
A few years have passed now and life in the village continues. The Christmas after the Bishop’s visit Matteo gave all his customers a generous Christmas hamper. They have all come back to him now and the turnover of his business has increased. His wife has had a new dress and new curtains and this year work has started on revamping the kitchen.
The old man at the big villa died and Lucia married Leonardo the chauffer. Her face shines with happiness as she walks through the village taking her two small children to school.
Enzo’s wife recalled a minor indiscretion of her own from her youth and decided to forgive him. Enzo has sold his business in the city to the manager and no longer goes away. He has at last written a best- selling novel; maybe it was the lurid cover illustration or the salacious opening chapters that helped it sell. It was called Confessions of the Indiscretions of a Middle Aged Writer and a bold disclaimer at the front stated that the work was completely fictional and the main character bore no resemblance to anyone the author knew. In fact the book was a bit tamer than it appeared ending more as a morality tale, the central character becoming penitent and retiring to the country with his forgiving spouse and both living happily ever after.
Bianca has done a slimming course and now she walks to the coffee shop each day to collect Father Francesco’s coffee and croissant as part of her fitness regime.
Isabella at the coffee shop has become a tight lipped soul of discretion, the trusted confidante of half the village. Sometimes one of the men who has sat in the coffee shop pretending not be listening to the sermon still relayed on the Sabbath morn will return to the shop when Isabella is there alone. They usually enter looking rather sad and the conversation will go something like this. “Isabella you go to church on Sundays morning?” and Isabella replies “Yes”. “Isabella can I ask you a purely hypothetical question?” and the hypothetical is stressed, and Isabella says “Yes, fire away.” Then the unhappy looking questioner will mention the breaking of a commandment or a grave misconduct and ask “Does God forgive things like that?” Isabella is not given to hypothetical replies, but answers simply “Well, he has forgiven me.” Then the man’s face will lighten up and a spring will return to his step as he walks out into the street as though a great burden has been lifted.
Father Francesco has not become a teetotaller but when he goes to the Bistro to eat with Antonio and his friends, he’s developed a great partiality for mineral water. I suppose according to the rules the Bishop may never have told him what Bianca and Isabella confessed that Sunday morning, but whenever Father Francesco is due to hear confession he first takes the microphone to his study and locks it securely in a safe to which only he knows the combination.
About the author
Guy Pratt is a retired octogenarian second hand bookseller who enjoys gardening, long walks with his dog and travel. He gravitated into the book trade after earlier years in farming, the army Intelligence Corps and the civil service.
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