''Out the depths I have cried to thee O Lord. Lord hear my voice.'' The old priest intoned the psalm for the dead – the ''de profundis'' - under his breath as he shrunk further into the priest hole.
He might be facing his doom soon, and so too, might the family for whom he had recently said Mass.
He could hear the protests of the man and woman of the house, and tears of guilt, misery and anxiety slid down his cheeks.
''Found you, Father!'' shouted little Edmund, flinging the door wide. ''My turn to hide next...''
(The headmistress at my old convent school will be spinning in her grave....)