‘I take your point. But you don’t think like that, right?’
‘Me? God, no. I always thought the nuns were evil. Have you ever noticed, the word “convent” contains the word “coven”? We had one old bitch, she loved taking the ruler to the backs of our hands. We’d have to put them palms down on her table then she’d flex the ruler high as she could then wham! She’d let it go and I tell you, it would bring tears to the eyes of Superman himself. Jaysus.’ He shivered theatrically. ‘I can still remember the sting of it.’
‘And nobody made a fuss?’
He roared with laughter. ‘If you went home and complained, you’d get a bang on the ear. “You must have done something terrible to drive Sister Augustine to such a pitch,” my mother would say. No, when it comes to nuns, I’d believe just about anything. You ask me, Hitler could have got them to run his concentration camps, no bother.’
‘I’d have thought that was an outrageous statement until we found those buried children at the Blessed Pearl convent.’
There was silence for a couple of miles, then McInerny spoke. ‘I was maybe a wee bit over the top there. My boss tells me I speak before I think. But we’re not actually going to the convent of the Order of the Blessed Pearl itself, are we?’
‘No, Sister Mary Patrick isn’t living in the convent. I don’t know why that would be? I’m not exactly au fait with the finer distinctions of life inside Catholic religious orders.’
‘My guess would be that they know she’s crossed a line and they don’t want her contaminating the other sisters. They don’t like exposing the postulants and novices to bad influences.’ He snorted. ‘Mind you, most of the old nuns are such a right bunch of old sadists, one more wouldn’t make any difference.’ He yanked the wheel sharply to the side as they shot past a lorry full of sheep with inches to spare. Paula was convinced the sheep looked as terrified as she felt.
‘So she’d be in disgrace?’
‘Right enough, but she’s still living in a church property. I think it used to be one of the priests’ houses. It’s about a mile away from the convent proper. They’re not taking their eye off of her.’
‘Why don’t they . . . I don’t know, sack her?’
He laughed. ‘You can’t sack nuns. It’s the very last job for life. You could be excommunicated, I suppose, but I never heard of that happening to anybody in these parts. I think they only do it for full-on heresy. Battering kids? Well, apparently that’s not heretical.’
Before she could respond, Paula’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and, seeing it was Carol, she killed the call. ‘I need to return that call,’ she said. ‘Is there somewhere you can pull off? I’m sorry, it’s confidential.’
‘Sure, no worries. There’s an exit slip a couple of miles up the road, I’ll take that.’
Paula barely noticed the next few miles as she tried to work out what to say to Carol. She could hardly go, ‘Do you want the good news first or the really really bad news?’ Before she’d formulated her strategy, McInerny had parked up on the grass verge and was climbing out.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ he said. ‘Rain doesn’t bother me, I’ve lived in it all my life. Besides, I can have a wee smoke.’
Left alone without excuses, Paula rang Carol’s number. ‘What’s so urgent?’ Carol said as soon as the line opened.
‘You’re not driving or anything, are you?’
‘No, I’m alone. What is it?’ A sharp intake of breath. ‘It’s Tony, isn’t it? Something’s happened to Tony?’
It was, Paula thought, exactly how she would instantly imagine any catastrophe call being about Elinor. ‘He’s in Bradfield Cross,’ she said. ‘But the prognosis is good.’
‘What happened? Has he been attacked? I told them, he’ll be vulnerable to attack, he’s helped put a lot of people away.’
‘I don’t know the details of what happened. All I know at this point is that he was involved in some sort of a ruck. He either hit his head on something or somebody hit him, I don’t know which. Elinor called me to tell me and she’s got no access to information beyond the medical. She told me he’s got a skull fracture and a brain bleed.’
‘Oh God, no,’ Carol moaned. ‘So how bad is it? What did she say?’
‘They’re doing that procedure where they drill into the skull to drain the haematoma and reduce the swelling. Elinor says it looks pretty straightforward. Obviously she’s not a neurosurgeon, but she can read a chart.’
‘Is he conscious?’
‘He’s under sedation. I think they do it to keep the patient from moving around and doing more damage.’
‘You think I should go?’
‘Yes. I do. He’s under guard, because . . . well, because that’s how it works. But once he’s conscious, I’m sure Elinor can wangle you in.’
‘I don’t know if he’ll want to . . . ’
They both knew what she couldn’t say. ‘This kind of thing resets the zeros, Carol. Recalibrates what’s important.’
‘I don’t know . . . ’ Uncomfortable, she alighted on something to shift the conversation sideways. ‘So when did this happen?’
‘I’m not clear. He was moved to Bradfield Cross last night because that’s where the regional neurosurgical unit is based. Elinor found out this morning when she went into work.’
‘This morning? That can’t be right?’ Carol’s voice was sharp. ‘You left me two voicemails asking me to call you. The other one was yesterday evening. I didn’t notice it till this morning, I was . . . I
