Ghost Walk Read Free Page A

for three years,’ I said patiently.
    As if she didn’t hear me, she continued pulling out papers and thrusting them back again. Some fell on the floor and were retrieved by us.
    ‘It is possible, Mrs McQuinn,’ she said. ‘His note is here somewhere .’
    I told myself she was very old, obviously confused and upset as she kept protesting, mumbling:
    ‘It was definitely here, just a short while ago.’
    ‘Would you care to borrow my spectacles?’ asked Sister Angela, producing them from her pocket.
    ‘If you insist. If you think that will help,’ was the icy response. ‘But I remember perfectly what Danny’s note looked like.’
    We waited patiently for another search aided by the spectacles but with no better result. Finally thrusting the box aside with a despairing and angry glance, she took out a large brown envelope.
    We watched hopefully. A triumphant sigh. ‘These are class photographs. I am sure there is one with Danny.’ Adjusting the spectacles, she took out the cardboard mounts.
    ‘Ah yes. Here is the year Danny came to us. I remember it well, the very day it was taken.’
    A group of small boys sitting cross-legged in the front row. One unmistakably a very young and beautiful child. Danny. Even before her finger directed me to him, my heart leapt in recognition and tears welled in my eyes.
    Here was Danny as I had never known him. An image I had hoped would one day be that of our baby son, had he lived.
    ‘An older relative, a priest brought him to us from Ireland. He used to look in and see the boy and he has kept in touch with us –’
     
    Her voice was fading. Her breathing growing heavy, eyes closing. All this undue excitement was too much for her, falling asleep as she spoke to us and Sister Angela was just in time to seize the cardboard box and its contents before they slid to the floor.
    The action alerted the old nun, who jerked awake.
    ‘We are just leaving,’ Sister Angela whispered.
    Sister Mary Michael gazed up at me. ‘I am sorry I couldn’t find Danny’s note to show you, Mrs McQuinn. But I do remember the exact words. It said: “Forgive me. I have sinned. Pray for me.”’
    Once more, as if the final effort had been too much, her chin sunk to her chest.
    I stared at her. It couldn’t be. Wanting to stay, to argue, as Sister Angela put a gentle hand on my arm and with an apologetic glance led me towards the door.
    Outside she said, ‘That often happens these days. She tries very hard, you know.’
    I leaned against the wall. I wanted to know so much more.
    ‘Don’t upset yourself, Mrs McQuinn. Gracious, you have turned quite pale.’
    My head was whirling as I tried to set my thoughts in order.
    Danny – three weeks ago. And I, who had lived through years of horror and danger in Arizona and never turned a hair, fainted away for the first time in my life.
     
    I was conscious of being supported to a bench, a glass of water. Sister Angela’s face looming over me. ‘Take a few sips. That’s better .’ She patted my hand gently.
    ‘I’m sorry. Three weeks ago – it just isn’t possible.’
    ‘Now don’t you be worrying yourself, my dear. You must remember that Sister Mary Michael is different to the rest of us. Time gets like that for old people. Three weeks, two or three months.’ She shrugged. ‘They are much the same to her.’
    ‘But not three years, Sister. She was very definite about that. And three years ago was the last time I saw Danny. I have every reason to believe that he is dead.’
    Sister Angela shook her head. This experience was beyond her. She didn’t know what to say, who to believe.
    ‘And that note,’ I insisted. ‘If that was true, what she remembered . Why should he ask forgiveness, that he had sinned? I don’t understand. It doesn’t even sound like Danny –’
    Sister Angela seized on that gratefully. ‘There you are then. You are probably right. The note was from someone else. After all, Danny isn’t such a rare name, is it. She