Vow of Chastity (14 page)

‘So none of you knows anything?’ The detective’s smile was disappointed.

‘The farm children and the Romanies don’t mix very well together,’ Sister Joan murmured. ‘There’s a deep-seated prejudice that divides the two communities. I do my best but children often reflect the attitudes of their parents.’

‘And you all know where you were the evening before last?’ Detective Sergeant Mill pursued.

‘Madelyn and I were at home watching the television,’ David Penglow said. ‘You saw us, Sister.’

‘You didn’t go out after the sisters visited?’

‘It still gets dark quick,’ Madelyn said virtuously. ‘We’re not allowed out after dark.’

‘I was helping Dad muck out when Sister Joan came with Sister – Margaret?’ At Sister Joan’s nod he continued, ‘When they left I went back into the barn – we’ve got a new calf there. I went to bed quite early.’

‘I didn’t,’ Billy Wesley informed them. ‘I stayed up late and had fish and chips. We all went to the pictures earlier on – the whole family. Mum says she’s sorry she missed you, Sister.’

Sister Joan who gravely doubted the happy-go-lucky Mrs Wesley had said anything of the kind smiled slightly.

‘What about you, Samantha?’ Detective Sergeant Mill glanced at his notebook.

‘The two sisters came‚’ Samantha said, standing up politely. ‘After they went I had some supper and read for a bit and then I went to my room.’

‘If you do remember anything then tell Sister here. We want to find out all about everything. You don’t ever smoke or drink or use drugs, do you?’

Five blank faces stared back at him. Five heads were slowly shaken.

‘Well, that’s all for the moment.’ He sounded rather at a loss. ‘Sister Joan.’

‘Will you be able to manage here until teatime, Sister David?’ she lingered to ask. ‘I’ll ask if Sister Margaret or I may pick you up in the car, if you like.’

‘Oh no, I shall enjoy a pleasant walk back across the moor,’ Sister David said quickly.

‘If you’re sure. The Romany children won’t be back in school until next week, so you’ll have a peaceful time anyway.’

‘And the others are being very good. I expect,’ Sister David said, walking with her to the door, ‘that the news about Petroc shocked them. I did break it as gently as I could, and we said some prayers.’

‘The children have been unnaturally angelic all term,’ Sister Joan said. ‘How did they take the news anyway?’

‘Madelyn Penglow cried and Billy Wesley wanted to know if there was a maniac about. The others were too shocked to say very much at all. Is there any further news, Sister? I realize one ought not to become involved but –’

‘Why not?’ The colour had flamed in her cheeks. ‘Why shouldn’t we get involved, Sister David? A child has been killed and left in our chapel! Don’t we have a duty to get involved?’

‘I only meant – yes, of course, it is a terrible tragedy. In our chapel.’

‘Anywhere, Sister. Anywhere. I’ll see you later.’
Closing
the door, returning to the car, she thought for the first time that Sister David, for all her classical
scholarship
,
was really rather a silly woman.

‘My clever idea doesn’t seem to have worked,’ Detective Sergeant Mill observed wryly, starting up the car. ‘I was hoping the children would open up more when they saw you with me, but it looks as if they don’t know anything. My men are instituting house to house enquiries in the district. There’ll be an inquest next week. Do you fancy a cup of coffee?’

‘Very much but Sister Margaret will give you one when you drop me off at the convent.’

‘Ask permission,’ he gibed.

‘It wouldn’t be forthcoming, Sergeant. Shall we drive back then? I’m sure that there is plenty of work waiting for you at the station.’

‘As you please, Sister Joan.’ He trod hard on the accelerator, sending the car shooting forward. ‘I hope you’re not offended.’

‘I take the invitation as a compliment, Sergeant,’ she told him demurely. ‘I was wondering – if it wouldn’t be an imposition – I could ask Sister Margaret about when she lost her rosary. If the police start questioning her she will get completely muddled.’

‘Ask her and then ring me with the results. I take it that you’re allowed to pick up a telephone?’

‘With permission. Sister Margaret or Mother Dorothy take outside calls. Do you think that we’ll find out who did this?’

‘I hope so, Sister. I shall be staying on the case until we get results anyway. As I told you the death of a child is an abomination. I’ve two lads of my own.’

He was serious again, his voice empty of feeling or rather – tight with feeling unexpressed.

‘I’ll take a rain-check on that cup of coffee. Try to have a chat with Sister Margaret as quickly as you can. Thank you for your help.’

But she had not, she thought going inside, been very helpful at all. She had not even been completely candid with him. She hadn’t mentioned the other incidents that had recently disturbed her – the missing candles, flowers and holy water, the unnatural goodness of the
children, the macabre little verse Samantha had written, the sudden disappearance of Kiki Svenson …

‘There you are, Sister. I have telephoned the Svensons but nobody appears to be in.’ Mother Dorothy stood at the door of the parlour.

‘Are you going to try again, Reverend Mother?’

‘In an hour or two. Since you are not teaching today you can help Sister Margaret with the meal. Will the police be requiring your assistance again?’

‘I don’t know, Mother Dorothy. I don’t think so.’

‘Then go and make yourself useful in the kitchen, Sister. We have all been greatly discomposed this morning by having our fingerprints taken. One would like to get back into the normal routine as quickly as possible.’

Nodding briskly she went back into the parlour and closed the door.

‘I’m so sorry, Sister, but I just cannot remember where or when I lost it.’ Sister Margaret looked distressed. ‘It is very good of you to wish to help me find it, but the fault of carelessness is entirely mine.’

‘The point is, Sister, that Petroc had a rosary in his pocket when he was found in the chapel which corresponds exactly to yours, with the chain snapped.’

‘Sister Joan, you can’t think that I had anything to do with the death of that poor boy!’

‘No, of course I don’t,’ Sister Joan said warmly. ‘Petroc evidently found it and put it in his pocket. If you can recall where you lost it then his last movements can be more accurately pinpointed.’

‘But if I knew exactly where I lost it then it wouldn’t have been lost,’ Sister Margaret said. ‘I mean I’d have noticed it fall and picked it up.’

‘If Petroc did find it and pick it up himself, then you must have lost it two nights ago when we were visiting the parents, but surely you’d have noticed it was gone when we had evening prayers.’

An awkward flush stained the lay sister’s round face.

‘Not necessarily, Sister,’ she said in an embarrassed fashion. ‘This is a dreadful admission to make but by the time we get to evening prayers I am generally too tired to concentrate on them. I very often have a little nap, you see. I am doubly at fault since I have never spoken of it in general confession, but it is such a shameful weakness. The point is that I might have lost my beads during the evening and in that case the poor child must have picked them up, or I could have lost them
yesterday morning. I simply don’t know and the more I think about it the more confused I get.’

‘Could you tell Reverend Mother about it?’ Sister Joan asked. ‘The detective sergeant asked me – well, I volunteered, but it amounts to the same thing. If you tell Mother Dorothy then she can ring up the station. You’ll want your rosary back?’

‘Yes indeed, though my carelessness in losing it suggests to me that I really don’t deserve to have it,’ Sister Margaret said miserably. ‘I’ll go and tell her at once.’

‘Is there anything else you want me to do?’ Sister Joan looked round the kitchen where they had just finished washing the dishes.

‘Could you possibly go and check up on Sister Gabrielle? She would insist on going out to sit in the garden and I fear the air is still a trifle fresh. An extra blanket might be appreciated.’

‘Yes of course. Where is she?’

‘In the cemetery,’ Sister Margaret said. ‘Believe me but it wasn’t my choice. She insisted on having her chair put there.’

‘Each to her own taste. I’ll take a blanket out.’

Leaving Sister Margaret to what was going to be an embarrassing interview with the prioress, she nipped up to the linen cupboard, took out a blanket, and went down into the grounds again.

The walled enclosure with its two rows of plain wooden crosses where past members of the community slept their eternal sleep was near the old tennis court. Sister Gabrielle, a rug tucked about her knees, sat in a cane chair, chin cupped in her hands as she contemplated the graves. She gave a slight start as the younger woman arrived at her side and fumbled to turn up her hearing aid.

‘Gracious, Sister, you do creep about so!’ she exclaimed.

‘I’m very sorry, Sister Gabrielle. I didn’t mean to startle you but Sister Margaret thought you might need another blanket.’

‘If Sister Margaret had her way I’d be positively
suffocated
with blankets. A dear, good soul but a terrible fusspot! Well, well, child, drape it around me. I can consider it as a penance, I suppose.’

‘Are you sure you want to sit here?’ Sister Joan asked, lingering. ‘Wouldn’t you feel more cheerful somewhere else?’

‘On the contrary, Sister, I feel exceedingly cheerful here. Why shouldn’t I?’ The other gave a sudden impish grin. ‘After all I’m still sitting up, and at nearly
eighty-five
that’s cause for congratulation, don’t you think?’

‘Everybody says that you’re wonderful for your age, Sister.’

‘If I make it to ninety I’ll be even more wonderful,’ Sister Gabrielle said. ‘I have been thinking about the child who was found in the chapel. Is it known yet how he died?’

‘From a massive overdose of LSD in white wine with a lot of sugar added.’

‘Then it was murder,’ Sister Gabrielle said thoughtfully. ‘I have been hoping there might be some other explanation, but there couldn’t be. Someone must have tempted him to drink the stuff and then carried him into the chapel when he was dead. There is something very sick and twisted about that.’

‘The police are being very thorough in their enquiries.’

‘And you’re assisting them? I saw you prancing off with that good-looking officer this morning.’

‘Sister Gabrielle, I wasn’t prancing!’

‘Like a child let out of school,’ Sister Gabrielle said firmly. ‘That dream you had the other night – it could have been the prelude to temptation.’

‘Sister, I’m a nun vowed to chastity,’ Sister Joan said coldly.

‘You think words spoken even to God can change the urges of the body and the wishes of the heart? You have a long way to go in the religious life, Sister.’

‘Are you saying that I have mistaken my vocation?’ Sister Joan asked.

‘On the contrary I am saying that you must have a very
strong vocation otherwise you wouldn’t be tempted‚’ Sister Gabrielle said firmly. ‘Don’t imagine that you are immune from feelings, my dear. The trick is to divert them into the proper channels, not to deny them. Are you still conscious of the presence of evil? I know that I am.’

‘So many unconnected things are happening,’ Sister Joan said worriedly, ‘and yet I have the feeling they are connected. Sister, do you see any links between a classful of children who suddenly start behaving like angels, candles, flowers and holy water disappearing from the chapel and a boy who dies of an overdose of drugs which all my instincts tell me were given to him?’

‘I understand you went to see the parents on two nights running. What was your impression of them?’

‘Mixed.’ Sister Joan smiled her thanks as the other thrust the extra blanket towards her. ‘May I sit on the grass, Sister?’

‘Much more sensible than crouching down like a dormouse,’ Sister Gabrielle said. ‘The parents.’

‘Padraic Lee’s wife has a drinking problem and I get the impression that he holds that family together. He takes good care of his two little girls and he takes – took care of his nephew, Petroc. Petroc’s father is in gaol for a minor offence and his mother ran off. The father of the two Smith children, Conrad and Hagar ran off too – not with Petroc’s mother, and Mrs Smith does her best to cope but finds it hard. Those are the ones from the Romany camp.’

‘And the others? Farming people?’

‘Not the Wesleys. They live on the edge of town and Billy’s father is in and out of work like a yo-yo. They’re good-natured and feckless. The Penglows and the Holts are farmers. The Penglows are conventional and rather dull; the Holts are quite elderly and had Timothy after Mrs Holt had a series of miscarriages. Mr Holt told me that he felt the presence of evil. I’d almost forgotten that! He’s not the fanciful sort at all but a very down to earth working farmer.’

‘Close to the earth and sensitive to its vibrations. Is that it?’

‘There are the Olives, newcomers who’ve bought the old Druid house. Their daughter, Samantha, comes to the school. They don’t seem to be doing any farming. Mr Olive is writing a book, I was told. He’s slightly lame by the way. His wife is rather elegant. Oh, they had a Swedish au pair girl who left suddenly in the middle of the night, according to Samantha. Mother Dorothy is trying to contact her. If she fails then we will mention it to the police. Anyway they have a new au pair now, a very beautiful young man who doesn’t speak English.’

‘It sounds rather odd,’ Sister Gabrielle said. ‘You know the religious persuasions of the families?’

‘The Lees are nominally Catholic – at least Petroc was, but they don’t practice the Faith. The Holts are Catholic. The Penglows are Church of England and the Wesleys are too, though I don’t think they go to church very often. I don’t know about the Olives. You know the school is non-denominational. I try not to make distinctions.’

‘You pussyfoot around, no doubt,’ Sister Gabrielle said with asperity. ‘All this modern tolerance is very well in its way but it has its dangers. In the old days we did at least recognize the boundaries. Is it possible that the child was killed by a passing stranger? No, I suppose not. He must have known his killer well enough to sit down and drink a glass of wine with him.’

‘There is another thing, Sister Gabrielle. Sister Margaret lost her rosary somewhere and it was found in Petroc’s pocket. If she lost it when she was out with me then that can only mean that Petroc was there later, and picked it up.’

‘Or someone else picked it up and put it in his pocket.’

‘And brought him to the chapel.’

‘Presumably by car. How many of the families have cars?’

‘Padraic brings the Romanies in his pick-up lorry. Mr Holt brings Timothy and picks up Billy on the way – the Wesleys don’t have a car so Billy walks part way, when he bothers to arrive at school at all, that is. The
Penglows come by car and Samantha too. The au pair drops her off. Wouldn’t we have heard a car?’

‘Not if it was left at the gates and the – whoever walked round to the side door. Presumably he knew our routine and also that the door into the visitors’ parlour would be unlocked.’

‘And that includes just about everybody in the district. You see what a puzzle it is?’

‘I see that a child has died before his time,’ Sister Gabrielle said bleakly. ‘You know, I was sitting here before, warming myself in the spring sunshine, feeling happy to be alive, yet thinking of that child who will never be able to do what I was doing. We must pray for guidance, Sister. I am convinced that the solution will be found. The solution has to be found if God is to prevail. Now I shall have a little nap, so you may tuck that wretched blanket around me and go and find something useful to do.’

She switched off her hearing aid and closed her eyes with finality. Sister Joan shook a sprinkling of grass from the blanket and tucked it around the bony old frame. She wondered if one day she would sit here and have a younger sister perform the same task on her behalf. There was a quiet continuity in that which was comforting. Then, with shocking clarity, the detective sergeant’s face loomed in her mind, his voice mocking her, “I don’t know how you can stand it, Sister.”

She clutched her own well-fingered rosary and sped back towards the convent.

‘Mother Dorothy was most understanding about the very careless way in which I lost my rosary,’ Sister Margaret said happily, turning a rosy face from the cooker as Sister Joan entered the kitchen. ‘She was also very kind about my habit of napping at the end of the day. She reminded me that Saint Therese had had the same habit and had reached the conclusion that there were times when Our Dear Lord wished her to have a little rest. Isn’t that comforting? Though that doesn’t mean that I won’t try very hard to stay awake in future. She has rung the station and the rosary will be returned
to me. Now I must try very hard to recall exactly where I dropped it.’

‘If you strain too hard to recall something you generally don’t succeed‚’ Sister Joan said. ‘Why not forget about it and then the answer might pop into your head.’

‘That’s excellent advice, Sister. I shall take it. Now I must get on and finish the baking. Both Sister Hilaria and I are excused from recreation this evening. Mother Dorothy feels it will do the postulants no harm to learn how to cook a decent meal, so they are to come over to the kitchen after supper for a lesson in the art of convent
haute
cuisine.
Doesn’t that sound grand?’

‘What would you like me to do, Sister? I’m at your disposal‚’ Sister Joan asked.

‘Oh, Reverend Mother wishes to see you. I almost forgot about it‚’ Sister Margaret said. ‘Something about a telephone call, she said. You had better go at once. Now where did I put the flour?’

‘You wanted me, Reverend Mother?’ Tapping on the parlour door, entering and briefly kneeling, she was struck by the irrelevant thought that so many of the courtesies of the religious life might be construed as medieval by the modern world. How begin to explain that she and the others knelt not to the prioress herself but to the Christ her position represented in the community.

‘I managed to get through to Sweden. In fact the cleaning woman answered. She spoke a little English, sufficient to inform me that Mr and Mrs Svenson are on holiday for the next ten days, and that their daughter, Kiki, was in England. I thanked her and left my name and the convent number. At the moment we are in a cul-de-sac as far as that line of questioning is concerned. I see no point in mentioning the matter to the police until we know a little more ourselves.’

‘But surely –’ Sister Joan began.

‘To do so would be to raise suspicions and cast doubts when we have no logical reason for doing so. I would prefer you to talk again to the child – Samantha, draw
her out a little. It might even be necessary for you to pay a second visit to her home. Sister Margaret will accompany you. If anything further is said that justifies my taking action then I will do so.’

‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’

‘Sister Margaret cannot remember where she lost her rosary which is a pity but one cannot force these things. She had noticed the links in the chain were weak but, mindful of our vow of holy poverty, had delayed reporting the matter.’

The words ‘false economy’ hovered in the air but were not spoken.

‘I rang up the police station and spoke to Detective Sergeant Mill. He undertook to return the rosary to Sister Margaret, and said that your help had been invaluable to him.’

‘I doubt if it was,’ Sister Joan said. ‘He was merely being polite.’

‘I told him that if he required your assistance again you had my permission to co-operate in any way he deemed necessary.’

‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’ Sister Joan wondered if it would do any good at all to ask that she be excused from any such co-operation. Probably not.