Vow of Penance Read Free Page A

was only mildly surprised to find out that the door opened at once. How wise she had been to check twice since it was clear she had neglected to bolt up the first time.
    Outside a low wall separated the small building from the old tennis courts. The posts were still there, gleaming faintly as the moon emerged. At the other side of the courts a path wound up through the shrubbery tothe walled enclosure with its small cemetery, its flowers, fruit and vegetables. At this month of the year only the holly bushes dotted about on the open ground outside the enclosure wall were leafy, berries still gleaming like scarlet beads against the dark green. Not that one could distinguish colours in the moonlight, Sister Hilaria mused, holding the door ajar, sending good thoughts across to the sisters in the main house. Those who slept deeply or tossed on their thin mattresses would have been astonished to learn how much the unworldly mistress of novices knew about them. Sister Hilaria was never quite sure exactly how many were in the community nor who performed which duties but she knew the essence of each soul, knew who was troubled about some small personal fault, who felt stirrings of rebellion or missed their family in the mundane world. She could recognize evil too, could smell it on the wind before it had made itself manifest.
    She could smell it now, far off, faint. Not yet here but coming. For a moment she stood frowning, then with a little shiver she closed and bolted the door.
     
    The row of bonsai trees stood on the wide windowsill, each branch, each leaf a perfect miniature. The tiny oak spread itself as proudly as its full-sized brother; the willow created a filigree umbrella over the smooth surface of a tiny pond edged with shards of coloured glass. The hands that moved gently, inexorably, towards the tiny trees held a sharp pruning knife, razor honed. Delicately the tip of the knife sliced into bark and bud, and the lacy filaments of the willow fell and lay like strands of silk on the surface of the tiny pool. There was no sound save the pleased intake of breath as the sap began to trickle down, the despoiled foliage to wither and when the knife was withdrawn only a few branches remained, holding up their dwarfish arms like small penitents pleading for mercy.
    * See Vow of Obedience.

Two
    ‘How the parish will manage when you’re away we can’t imagine, Father,’ Sister David said mournfully.
    ‘Everybody will manage very nicely,’ Father Malone said cheerfully. ‘There’s nobody who’s indispensable, you know, and to tell the truth there are those who regard me as a mite old-fashioned in my thinking.’
    ‘Not in this convent,’ Mother Dorothy said.
    Mass was over and they were standing in the refectory, eating the bread and fruit and drinking the one cup of coffee which was their staple breakfast while Father Malone chatted about his forthcoming trip.
    ‘We’ll be stuck with Father Stephens,’ Sister Perpetua said.
    ‘What Sister means,’ said Mother Dorothy, ‘is that Father Stephens will have a very heavy burden and less time to devote to his various commitments.’
    Father Malone, who knew very well what Sister Perpetua had meant, threw her a reassuring glance.
    ‘We’ve been very fortunate,’ he said. ‘The bishop is sending a temporary replacement for me during my sabbatical. Father Matthew Timothy is recently ordained and fresh out of the seminary.’
    Mother Dorothy pursed her lips slightly but gave no other sign of disapproval. In her experience young priests fresh out of the seminary were usually still wet behind the ears and full of bright reforming ideas out of which she considered it her duty to wean them. For themoment, however, she held her peace.
    ‘I shall be assisting at a concelebrated mass in St Peter’s on Easter Sunday,’ Father Malone was saying with shy pleasure. ‘I’m really overwhelmed by the honour.’
    ‘You’ll see His Holiness,’ Sister Katherine said.
    ‘Indeed I