Vow of Chastity (12 page)

‘Just carry on as normal, Sister. Oh, I’ve taken the liberty of having one of my men telephone the local parish priest – Father Malone? The boy was a Catholic, it seems. There was a rosary in the pocket of his jeans.’

‘Some of the people in the camp are Catholics,’ Sister Joan said. ‘I didn’t know that Petroc was one. Romanies usually adopt the religion of wherever they happen to be, and this district is mainly Protestant so I would have thought –’

‘He didn’t mention it to you?’

She shook her head.

‘Whenever there’s a feast day all the Romany children claim to be members of the Church just so they can take advantage of the day off. Father Malone will know for certain.’

‘Yes, well – thank you again, Sisters. Goodnight.’ He unexpectedly thrust out his hand and shook hands with them both. ‘You’ll be having to get your chapel reconsecrated or whatever, I suppose. After having the body there, I mean.’

‘The body of a child does not soil any place,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘Goodnight.’

Outside, cars were starting up. Going with the two officers to the door Sister Joan flinched as the light from headlamps illumined a stretcher being carried round from the side.

‘Nasty business, Sister.’ The other officer sounded angry. ‘Always nasty when it’s a child.’

‘Yes.’

There was, she thought, nothing more to be said.

‘I have asked Sister Margaret to invite the rest of the community down to prayers,’ the prioress said, coming towards her. ‘The grand silence has been delayed already and I feel strongly that we need silence now, so that what has happened may be put into perspective. Oh, and if you wish to visit the camp in order to offer your condolences you may do so without first coming to ask for permission.’

‘Thank you, Reverend Mother.’ Sister Joan turned and went into the chapel wing. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed; the sanctuary lamp still burned with a steady blue flame; nobody lay before the altar. Then, slipping into her place, she noticed the seals on the doors leading to the visitors’ parlour and the confessional. Evidently a more thorough examination would be made in daylight.

The others were coming in, silently, heads bowed. Only Sister Mary Concepta was grunting a little with effort as Sister Teresa shepherded her to her seat. Sister Joan wished it were permissible to turn her head and study the faces of her sisters. Was it possible that one of them had – but who? She let their faces pass across the surface of her mind as the prioress began the recitation of the rosary.

Not the old ladies and not the postulants who never
went anywhere unsupervised. Not the prioress or
delicate
Sister Katherine who often needed help before she could lift the piles of heavy linen. Sister Martha looked frail too but she was wiry; Sister Hilaria had large, powerful hands – stop it, stop it at once. Someone from outside did this and then brought him here. Why? Why not simply bury him out on the moor? It might be years before anyone ever found him. Why bring him here to the convent?

‘– as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,’ Mother Dorothy intoned. Hands raised, fluttered crosses in the soft lamplight.

‘You are all aware that the missing child, Petroc Lee, was found here earlier this evening.’ The prioress was on her feet, facing them. ‘The cause of his death has not been established, but it seems certain that he died about twenty-four hours ago and that someone brought the body here. The police have asked for statements.
Someone
may have seen something, some tiny detail they didn’t consider important at the time. I wish the rising signal to be sounded half an hour early in the morning. You will all have had a night’s sleep and will employ the extra time before coming into chapel in writing a brief account of your own memories of the last twenty-four hours. You will also be required to have your fingerprints taken, for elimination purposes. What has happened is very distressing, especially for Sister Joan whose pupil the child was. For the rest we will continue as usual. The tragic event must not be made an excuse for idle gossip and speculation. Sister Margaret, as it is so late you and Sister Joan will accompany Sister Hilaria and her charges to the postulants’ quarters and return together.’

‘Please, Reverend Mother.’ Little Sister David had put up her hand. ‘You don’t think someone might be – lurking?’

‘No, Sister David, I don’t think anything of the kind.’ Mother Dorothy sounded wearily impatient. ‘Sister
Margaret
and Sister Joan, you are excused from observing the grand silence until you re-enter the main house. Let us pray.’

She lowered herself to her knees again, beginning to intone the prayer for the dead.

At the chapel door Sister Joan knelt briefly for the blessing, feeling the cool drops of water on her face as the Prioress sprinkled some from the aspergillum. Mother Dorothy was in shadow, only her eyes alive and troubled behind her rimless spectacles.

The five walked in silence through the garden and along the narrow path that led past the disused tennis court to the old dower cottage where the postulants lived under the gentle rule of their novice mistress. Sister Hilaria’s face, still shrouded partly by her scarf, looked strained in the light from Sister Margaret’s torch. The two white bonneted postulants walked close together. One of them let out a high-pitched nervous giggle and clapped her hands to her mouth.

The door of the postulants’ quarters closed behind them. Turning, Sister Margaret said in a reassuring tone, ‘There was no need for you to accompany me, Sister. I am quite sure there is not the least danger.’

‘I rather think that Mother Dorothy was heaping coals of fire on our heads to remind us that we’d both broken the grand silence already this week,’ Sister Joan said wryly. ‘I, for one, am glad of the chance to say something no matter how trivial. Silence is so full of questions.’

‘That poor child.’ Sister Margaret sighed. ‘I have been trying to make sense of it. Why would anyone wish to harm a child? A little boy of twelve? You know, I could not help remembering now only the other evening we both stood and watched him playing and splashing with the other child. The old woman who spoke to us said there was evil, but it cannot have been in the children. I have been wondering if possibly someone else was also watching them, someone with a sick and twisted mind. It would have been possible.’

‘I have been thinking the same thing myself,’ Sister Joan said gravely.

‘At least the child will be happy now.’ Sister Margaret’s voice had brightened. ‘Our Dear Lord so
loves to welcome children into His kingdom. Oh, there will be rejoicing there now.’

‘There will be anger,’ Sister Joan said flatly. ‘Our Blessed Lord is hardly likely to be rejoicing because a child has been murdered, Sister.’

‘Yes, you are quite right, Sister.’ The brightness had drained from Sister Margaret’s face. ‘I had not thought of it yet in that light. I spoke without thought.’

‘So did I. I didn’t mean to snap your head off, Sister.’

‘Oh, it takes a lot to do that,’ Sister Margaret said. ‘You were right, Sister, to chide me. My opinions are sometimes – naive, I fear, but they give me some comfort and I am inclined to cling to them. It is a matter of finding compensations in even the most stressful conditions. For you it must be a great grief since you were the child’s teacher. We can only thank God for the rule of detachment from personal affections. At least you have that to lend you strength.’

Do I? Sister Joan asked the question silently of herself as she followed her companion up the path. Aren’t the children becoming a substitute for me because I will never bear any of my own? Not much detachment there.

‘I’ll just lock the front door and check that Mother Dorothy doesn’t want anything,’ Sister Margaret said, turning just before they entered the main building. ‘You get a good night’s sleep now. I must remind myself not to talk. To break the rules seems to be becoming quite a habit with me, I’m afraid. As it is I shall have to confess that I’ve lost my rosary. It was loose on the chain and I delayed having it fixed. Most careless. Goodnight and God bless you.’

She and her torch passed within. Sister Joan opened her mouth and closed it before following. There were moments when keeping all the rules became an almost unbearable strain.

Father Malone had offered mass and hurried away again after drinking a cup of tea in the parlour. Usually he came up to the refectory to enjoy a bit of a chat with the Sisters but this morning nobody was in the mood for light conversation. There was an air of strained solemnity among even the postulants who, having attended mass, were shepherded back to their quarters by a heavy-eyed sister Hilaria.

‘Sister Joan.’ The prioress stopped her as she was on her way downstairs. ‘I have asked Sister David to take your place at the school for a couple of hours. She prefers to walk over as you know so you can ride Lilith over later. I want you to read through the statements made by the community before the police arrive. It is possible that something in them might strike a chord with you.’

‘Yes, Mother Dorothy.’ She made the expected reply, fighting back a twinge of irritability. The pupils were her pupils and at a time like this would need their regular teacher. She doubted if Sister David would give them the sense of security they required in the face of the sad news to be imparted.

‘Whatever work you are given to do, do it well and take pride in it, but always remember that you are first and foremost a religious,’ Mother Agnes had once instructed her.

The statements, her own among them, had been collected and lay in a pile on the desk, each one signed and dated. Seating herself she began the task of reading them. Those made by the postulants could almost be
discounted. The two girls had been in their quarters apart from their attendance at mass. When Sister Hilaria had gone to the dentist Sister Teresa had gone over to supervise their studies. Sister Teresa’s statement bore that out. On the previous evening she had cooked the supper since Sister Margaret had been driving Sister Joan to visit the parents. Nothing there of interest.

Both the elderly nuns had contributed, Sister Mary Concepta weaving little prayers for the dead child in between her assurances that she had spent her time as she always did between the infirmary and the chapel; Sister Gabrielle submitting a brief and concise timetable of her own movements which coincided with those of Sister Mary Concepta.

Mother Dorothy’s own statement was equally brisk and matter-of-fact. Sister David had gone into more detail about the translation of Euclid she was working on for a college undergraduate; Sister Martha had taken advantage of the loosened soil after the rain to pull up some weeds; Sister Katherine and Sister Perpetua had changed the linen and looked after the old ladies between them. All the community apart from Sister Margaret, Sister Hilaria and herself had been within the confines of the convent, and nobody had seen anything out of the common.

She turned with heightened interest to Sister Hilaria’s account.

Sister Joan read the statement through again, frowned, and took up Sister Margaret’s account, which read more like a gossipy letter than anything else.

She hadn’t mentioned losing her rosary. Sister Joan wondered whether to mention it herself. She would wait, she decided, since it was possible that Petroc had his own. If not, then it was obvious he had found Sister Margaret’s and that meant he had been wherever she had dropped it. Not, surely, in the Romany camp else she would have discovered its loss sooner. That left the Penglows, the Wesleys (since they had alighted from the car to make enquiries of the neighbours), the Holts and the Olives. She put the statement back on the file, added her own brief account, and looked up as Mother Dorothy came in with Detective Sergeant Mill.

‘Detective Sergeant Mill wishes you to go with him to the Romany camp,’ she said without preamble. ‘He feels they might talk more freely if you are present. I have told him that we will, of course, co-operate fully in the police investigation.’

‘What about school?’ Sister Joan enquired.

‘Sister David is perfectly able to cope, Sister. You may go now with the officer.’