“You could say: “Come on down, Roz, I’ll give you an hour to listen to your woes.”
Sister Bridget’s light chuckle lost none of its warmth by transmission down the wire.
“Come on down, dear. I’ve a whole evening free and I like nothing better than listening. Are the woes so bad?”
“Yes. I think Olive did it.”
“Not so bad. You’re no worse off than when you started. I live in the house next to the school. It’s called Donegal. Totally inappropriate, of course, but rather charming. Join me as soon as you can. We’ll have supper together.”
There was a strained note in Roz’s voice.
“Do you believe in black magic, Sister?”
“Should I?”
“Olive is sticking pins into a clay image of me.”
“Good Lord!”
“And I’ve got a headache.”
“I’m not surprised. If I had just had my faith in someone shattered, I would have a headache, too. What an absurd creature she is! Presumably it’s her way of trying to regain some semblance of control. Prison is soul destroying in that respect.” She tut-tutted in annoyance.
“Really quite absurd, and I’ve always had such a high esteem for Olive’s intellect. I’ll expect you when I see you, my dear.”
Roz listened to the click at the other end, then cradled the receiver against her chest. Thank God for Sister Bridget… She put the receiver back with two hands that trembled. Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!
THANK GOD FOR SISTER BRIDGET… Supper was a simple affair of soup, scrambled eggs on toast, fresh fruit and cheese, with Roz’s contribution of a light sparkling wine. They ate in the dining room, looking out over the tiny walled garden where climbing plants tumbled their vigorous new growth in glossy green cascades. It took Roz two hours to run through all her notes and give Sister Bridget a complete account of everything she had discovered.
Sister Bridget, rather more rosy-cheeked than usual, sat in contemplative silence for a long time after Roz had finished. If she noticed the bruises on the other woman’s face, she did not remark on them.
“You know, my dear,” she said at last, ‘if I’m surprised by anything it is your sudden certainty that Olive is guilty. I can see nothing in what she said to make you overturn your previous conviction that she was innocent.” She raised mildly enquiring eyebrows.
“It was the sly way she smiled when she talked about being the only one who knew anything,” said Roz tiredly.
“There was something so unpleasantly knowing about it. Does that make sense?”
“Not really. The Olive I see has a permanently sly look. I wish she could be as open with me as she seems to have been with you, but I’m afraid she will always regard me as the guardian of her morals. It makes it harder for her to be honest.”
She paused for a moment.
“Are you sure you’re not simply reacting to her hostility towards you?
It’s so much easier to believe well of people who like us, and Olive made no secret of her liking for you on the two previous occasions you went to see her.”
“Probably.” Roz sighed.
“But that just means I’m as naive as everyone keeps accusing me of being.” Most criminals are pleasant most of the time, Hal had said.
“I think you probably are naive,” agreed Sister Bridget, ‘which is why you’ve ferreted out information that none of the cynical professionals thought worth bothering with. Naivety has its uses, just like everything else.”
“Not when it encourages you to believe lies, it doesn’t,” said Roz with feeling.
“I was so sure she had told me the truth about the abortion, and if anything set me questioning her guilt it was that. A secret lover floating around, a rapist even’ she shrugged ‘either would have made a hell of a difference to her case. If he didn’t do the murders himself, he might well have provoked them in some way. She cut that ground from under me when she told me the abortion was a lie.”
Sister Bridget looked at her closely for a moment.
“But when did she lie? When she told you about the abortion or, today, when she denied it?”
“Not today,” said Roz decisively.
“Her denial had a ring of truth which her admission never had.”
“I wonder. Don’t forget, you were inclined to believe her the first time. Since when, everyone, except Geraldine’s mother, has poured cold water on the idea. Subconsciously, you’ve been slowly conditioned to reject the idea that Olive could have had a sexual relationship with a man. That’s made you very quick to accept that what she told you today was the truth.”
“Only because it makes more sense.”
Sister Bridget chuckled.
“It makes more sense to believe that Olive’s confession was true but you’ve highlighted too many inconsistencies to take it at face value.
She tells lies, you know that. The trick is to sort out fact from fiction.”
