LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

you’re mental and also because you’re a friend.’

      She squeezed his arm. ‘Aw, you’re such a sweetie. Thank you.’

       4 January 1933

      Mother Superior Agnes Nicholas looked outside the window at the snow-covered garden and shivered. It was cold enough inside the convent and they had roaring fires burning in the lounge, kitchen and upstairs bedrooms. To be outside in this weather didn’t bear thinking about. She hated the cold. It made her swollen, arthritic bones ache.

      Sisters Mary and Edith had spent most of the morning filling up the wood baskets so they wouldn’t have to go out into the garden when it got dark. Now that only the three of them lived here, the convent was far too big. Poor Sister Emily had died of pneumonia in the hospital three weeks ago, and Agnes couldn’t shake the sadness that filled her entire being, every minute of every day. Emily had been far too young to die. In turn it had made Sisters Bernice and Joanna realise life was far too short to waste on God, and they had decided to leave the next week. Leaving just the three of them to it.

      Agnes wouldn’t be surprised if the church shut this place down and moved them somewhere else; it was far too big of a house for three women to run. Since that strange woman had turned up at their door that night, hammering on it as if the devil himself was chasing her, things hadn’t been quite right. The woman, who finally told them her name was Lilith Ardat some hours after she had been inside their home, had been crying and begging for their help. All three of them had been loath to turn her away, despite Agnes’s nagging feeling inside the pit of her stomach that she was bringing trouble to their door.

      Edith had silently pleaded with Agnes, imploring her with those huge, blue, innocent eyes until she’d relented. Agnes had nodded her permission at Mary, who had then ushered the woman inside and down to the kitchen, wrapping her in a thick woollen blanket. She had sat her down by the crackling fire. Edith had fetched the woman a small glass of sherry and then they’d all sat down and asked her what was wrong and how they could help her.

      The story the woman confided in them was one of horrific abuse, which had sent shivers down Agnes’s spine, but despite the horror she was hearing and the fact that she was a nun, there was a part of Agnes that didn’t like Lilith Ardat. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the sly smile that would spread across her face after she finished each sentence had something to do with it. Agnes got the impression the woman was enjoying sharing her tale of violence and woe with the three of them.

      If Lilith was telling the truth, then the poor woman had been severely mistreated, but Agnes wasn’t convinced that she was. Although Agnes had no idea why Lilith would turn up at the convent so late on such a cold night if it wasn’t true, she couldn’t shake the niggling feeling from the back of her mind that Lilith wasn’t entirely what she seemed, or that she wasn’t the person she was trying to portray.

      Mary loved a good tale of woe and despair, however. She had been sucked in wholeheartedly, gasping and making loud noises of objection throughout the woman’s tale of horror at the hands of her husband. Edith had only just said she was bored of not having anything more exciting to talk about than what Father Patrick might preach about in his Sunday sermon. She sat transfixed by the small, raven-haired woman in front of them.

      Agnes had kept her distance. She didn’t know whether it was her intuition or her basic mistrust of most human beings that had stepped in, but she hadn’t gone too close. The woman had skin that was whiter than the driven snow, and lips that were red – blood red. There was a blue and yellow bruise beginning to form across her left eye and forehead.

      She told them it was where he’d hit her, but Agnes thought it looked more like the kind of injury you got when you were in one of those motor cars and it stopped suddenly. As if the woman’s head had hit the steering wheel with force; although why this woman would be out driving a motor car at this time of night in this weather God alone knew the answer. This was not the sort of weather to be out gallivanting around in. It was far too cold and dangerous with the ice that covered the roads and paths.

      ‘She can stay in Sister Emily’s room. I’ll go and make up the bed myself.’

      ‘No. I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mary.’

      ‘Why not? It’s not like Emily is going to need it anytime soon is it?’

      Agnes stared at Mary in horror; the girl was so insensitive at times. It didn’t seem right to put her into Emily’s room so soon after she had passed away.

      ‘She can stay in Sister Bernice’s room, Mary, and I’ll have none of your petulant arguing. Have some thought about you.’

      ‘Yes, Mother Superior. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll go and make the bed up.’

      Edith glanced across at Agnes. She too seemed glad that they weren’t about to move a complete stranger into Emily’s room so soon. It wasn’t right and she would tell Mary this when they were alone, but she wouldn’t say anything in front of their guest. It wasn’t the time or the place.

      ‘Whilst Mary makes up your bed, would you like something to eat? A sandwich perhaps, or some toast?’

      ‘No, thank you, I’m not hungry. I don’t eat an awful lot. I have a very small appetite.’

      As the woman said this she glanced across at Edith, who was the complete opposite and had a very big appetite with a fuller figure to complement it. Agnes noted the faint redness that crept along Edith’s cheeks. The girl had major issues with her weight and her even larger appetite. Not that it mattered to Agnes; everyone was different. The world would be a very strange place if everyone looked the same. Lilith stood up, shrugging the blanket from her shoulders.

      ‘Would you mind if I used your bathroom? I need to clean myself up a little. I must look a complete mess. I’m so embarrassed because I never leave the house looking like this. What on earth must you think of me?’

      Edith smiled and stood up, leading the woman from the kitchen to the first-floor bathroom. Agnes couldn’t help but shudder when Lilith passed close by her. The woman didn’t seem to notice and she was grateful to God for that small mercy. Agnes had no idea what was wrong with her, but every single nerve in her body was screaming at her to stop the clock and make the woman leave, only she couldn’t do it. How could she send such a small, slight thing out into the subzero, freezing temperatures? She would more than likely freeze to death before she reached the village; in fact, it was nothing short of a miracle that she hadn’t frozen to death before she’d reached the convent, because it was so far off the beaten track that most people who were looking for the place in broad daylight couldn’t even find it.

      Agnes could hear the muted whisperings of the strange woman and Edith’s voice as she led her along the first-floor corridor to the bedroom that had once belonged to Sister Bernice. After what felt like for ever, Mary came downstairs, followed by Edith.

      ‘I trust you’ve made our guest comfortable for the night?’

      Both women nodded in unison.

      ‘Good, I’m tired so I’ll be off to bed now. Make sure that you double check all the locks on the windows and doors. I don’t want any more unwelcome visitors tonight. Do you hear what I’m saying? I don’t care who is knocking on that door – we don’t let anyone else in. Especially in case it’s Lilith’s angry husband. I’m too old and too ugly to be fighting drunken bullies at this time of night. Goodnight, Sisters. Let’s hope we all get some sleep.’

      Agnes caught the look of fear that passed between the two much younger women in front of her and was glad. They were no match for a violent bully of a man and she would rather scare them into making sure they were safe than have them opening the door for every man, woman and child. She slowly shuffled up to bed; there would be no kneeling on the cold, hard, wooden floor tonight for her to say her prayers. She’d never be able to get back up again; instead she would climb between the heavy cotton sheets and pray. Surely God wouldn’t mind an old cripple seeking a bit of comfort on this cold, bitter night?

      When she finished

Скачать книгу