The Quick and the Dead (A Sister Agnes Mystery) (29 page)

BOOK: The Quick and the Dead (A Sister Agnes Mystery)
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Chapter Twenty-three

 

Agnes was glad of her Wellington boots. Tramping up a mud-washed windswept hill somewhere in Suffolk, in search of a celebration of the September equinox, she wished she’d worn two pairs of socks. It occurred to her she should have warned Athena about socks. And, she thought, she should have given Nic more detailed directions about the route they should take. Still, they’d probably found some charming little restaurant on the way instead. Agnes wrapped her raincoat tighter around her and strode on towards distant shouts and snatches of music.

Arriving at the top she was cheered by the sight of a huge bonfire, a crowd of people. She could pick out several familiar faces. Rona appeared and hugged her, and Jenn, and Jeff, who was playing the guitar, nodded. Paz waved at her from a tree where he was trying to rig up a makeshift tent with a couple of tarpaulins. Further off were the drummers, already setting up an insistent beat as the sky changed slowly from pink to indigo, and the sun set behind the drizzly clouds.

Agnes began to help Sheila wrap potatoes in foil and bury them in the ashes around the fire, endless numbers of potatoes it seemed, as the sky grew dark and more people arrived. Some friends of Sheila’s arrived with a baby, and Lily immediately snatched the baby up and insisted on carrying it about.

‘Uh-oh,’ Sheila laughed. ‘Her next enthusiasm.’

‘Could be worse,’ Agnes replied.

Sheila looked at her, then squeezed her hand. ‘Certainly could,’ she murmured.

Paz and Jenn reappeared dragging a supermarket trolley containing several cases of wine.

‘Where did they get that?’ Sheila said.

‘I don’t know about the trolley, but the wine is my contribution,’ Agnes said.

‘This is the Agnes equinox, is it?’ Rona laughed.

‘It’s slumming it a bit for us,’ Paz said. ‘Usually we only drink champagne.’

As night fell, they lit huge candles, and Agnes saw Tom Bevan arrive with Sam, and Mike Reynolds too. Mike shook her hand.

‘I gather from these two that you’re a remarkable woman,’ he said to her.

‘No, I’m just in a privileged position,’ she replied.

‘I’ve never seen either of them so happy.’

Agnes looked across to the fire. Tom was pouring a glass of wine for Sheila, who was holding the baby. Sam and Lily were admiring each other’s earrings.

‘I’m sorry I had to lie to you,’ Mike said.

‘It was in a good cause,’ Agnes smiled.

‘No, but you must have thought I was a complete prat.’

‘Well, not really a prat, but —’

‘I’m afraid I’m the only person she’s allowed to call a prat,’ came a voice behind them.

Agnes turned, and smiled. ‘How’s the Angel Gabriel?’ she said.

‘No sign so far. How about you?’ Bill smiled and hugged her. When she turned back, Mike had drifted to the fire where someone handed him a potato.

‘Honestly,’ came a female voice, ‘I wish Agnes had bothered to tell me it would involve cross-country hiking, it’s bloody typical … Sweetie, there you are, look at these shoes, ruined …’

‘Never mind,’ Nic was saying, ‘it’ll give you an excuse to buy some new ones.’

Athena sighed. ‘But these were suede, and such a sweet shade of fuchsia, irreplaceable, darling, they’re a perfect match with this jacket …’ She kissed Agnes on each cheek, looked at Bill, then looked back at Agnes, one eyebrow almost imperceptibly raised.

‘This is Bill,’ Agnes smiled. ‘He — um — met him when — um —’

‘Really, darling, for a nun you’re just like the rest of us. Any chance of a drink?’ Athena turned to Nic, who wandered off into the crowd. ‘Oh, I remember,’ she went on, ‘you mean your baby anarchists and happy-clappy murderers? She told me all about it, you know,’ she said, smiling warmly at Bill, as Nic reappeared with a couple of cups. Athena took a sip.

‘Gosh,’ she said, looking at her cup. She took another sip. ‘I had no idea these people would know about wine.’

Bill laughed. ‘Without Agnes here,’ he said, ‘we’d all be drinking boiled nettles.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Athena said. 

‘Or single malt whisky,’ Agnes said to Bill.

Later there was just the drumming and the music, the smoke from the fires, the warmth from the dancing, the darkness of the night. Bill found Agnes again, and they sat and watched the pulsating, flickering crowd.

‘Did you sort out your future?’ he said to her.

‘I’ve told my Provincial that I’m prepared to do whatever she thinks fit.’

‘A big step, for you, I imagine.’

‘I wrote her a letter and then I didn’t post it for two days.’

‘Did you apologise for being stubborn?’

‘Yes. I did actually.’

‘But only in the first draft,’ he smiled.

Agnes looked at him. ‘Have you sent the Angel Gabriel to spy on me, or did you hack into my typewriter?’

He laughed. ‘Some things are obvious. So, what’s to become of you?’

‘What do you think of me living in a convent boarding school and teaching French?’

‘I think it’s most unlikely,’ he said. ‘But then, who are we to argue with old Gabriel?’

They both gazed across at the crowd, the dancing and the flames and the guttering candles under the trees.

‘Do you think you’ll be happy?’ Bill said.

Agnes could see Athena and Nic sitting side by side on a tree-stump, next to Sheila and Tom. Athena, surprisingly, was holding the baby, dandling him on her knee, arranging his little hat at an angle and admiring it. She held him out to Nic to admire too, and Nic smiled, and took the baby, and then kissed her on the cheek. Athena stared into the fire, and her face through the smoke looked old. Agnes saw Nic hand the baby to Sheila, and then turn back to Athena. He took her face in both hands, and she looked at him and tried to smile. He said something to her, and she took his hands from her face and kissed him.

Agnes turned to Bill. ‘Happy? Is anyone really happy?’

‘Well, what then?’

‘Acceptance. If I can learn that, I’ll be getting somewhere.’ Much later, as the potatoes were eaten and the fire began to die down, Agnes slipped away. She left them all there, Athena and Nic and Bill and Sam and Tom and Sheila and Lily and Mike, and descended the hill as the drumming faded and the sky behind the trees grew pink with the new day.

 

 

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BOOK: The Quick and the Dead (A Sister Agnes Mystery)
10.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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