And Lucifer, thought Sister, wasn’t a Dutch au pair but the child standing near to him when she and Sister Hilaria had stopped on their way to the dentist. The novice mistress had been referring in her usual, disconnected way to the child when she spoke of Lucifer. In the speech patterns of a woman whose mind was nearer heaven than earth had lain the answers to the questions.
‘You are — a very sick little girl,’ she said slowly. ‘You have to understand that you are a very sick little girl, Samantha. You need — help. You need—’
In olden days they would have burned her at the stake, recognizing evil in the flowerlike soul of a corrupted child. In these more enlightened times they called it sickness and treated it with medicine — or were these times more enlightened?
‘I need to be protected,’ Samantha said. ‘I hoped you’d do it. That’s why I wrote that little verse. I thought it might give you a clue, that it might help you to — stop me — stop the other Samantha, you see, and then I can go into the convent and be pure all my life. But you won’t help me. You’ll run off and tell on me, and then the welfare people will take me away. You’re just a bitch, Sister Joan. A dried-up, frustrated old bitch — just like my daddy said. He laughs about you, Sister. You and that fat cow you brought with you to talk about stupid school projects. You’re a — oh, excuse me. That really isn’t very polite, is it?’
‘Not in the least polite,’ said Detective Sergeant Mill as he pushed the door wider and entered the room.
Samantha had jerked around, staring at him. Then with a swift, convulsive movement, headed towards Sister Joan, burying her face in the grey skirt of the habit.
‘Sergeant—’ Sister Joan looked up into a face from which all disrespectful teasing had fled.
‘You must detach yourself, Sister,’ he said.
‘Yes. I know.’ She looked down with pity wrenching her heart and then spoke steadily. ‘Get up, Samantha. If you are going to enter the religious life you must learn to do as you’re bidden by your superior in the religious life, you know.’
A policewoman had come in. Somewhere in the house sounded a babble of voices, the thudding of feet.
Samantha lifted her head. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes shining.
‘Yes, Sister,’ she said meekly, and rose, her smile widening as she glanced towards the detective. ‘They can’t keep me for ever, can they, Sister? Not a child of eleven?’
‘Take her down to the station,’ he said curtly to the policewoman. ‘Watch her. She’s paranoid.’
‘Yes, Detective Sergeant. Come along, Samantha.’ The policewoman put out her hand.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Samantha said sharply. ‘You look to me like the sort of woman who goes with men. Don’t you touch me. I can walk all by myself.’
Walking out, she looked back briefly as she reached the door and her face was filled with all the laughter of childhood.
‘Your prioress was still up,’ he said to Sister Joan. ‘She saw you through the window, galloping off hell-for-leather across the moor and telephoned me. I’d just got back with the search warrant—’
‘You got it then?’
‘Kiki Svenson rang the station late last night with a garbled tale of having run off when she found out the sort of fun and games that’s been going on here. I took a tip from you and came in via the cellar. I’ve got to get back to the station. There are charges to be made, arrangements — shall I run you back to the convent first?’
‘I’ve tethered Lilith below the greenway. I need some fresh air.’
‘You look,’ he said as she rose shakily, ‘as if you need a stiff brandy.’
‘I think,’ she said, trying to smile, ‘that I’ve broken quite enough rules recently.’
‘I’ll be along later today to fill in the pieces. Ride carefully, Sister Joan.’
‘Yes. Detective Sergeant.’
She went past him into the hall. Police cars were driving away, two officers coming from the cellar with piles of videos and albums. A bewildered and beautiful Jan Heinz went past, protesting volubly in Dutch. victim or willing accomplice? They were all, she thought, hurrying towards the gate victims of one kind or another.
Fourteen
‘It is rather difficult to know where to start, Sister Joan.’ Mother Dorothy cupped her chin in her hand and frowned at the younger woman.
‘I have been greatly at fault, Reverend Mother,’ Sister Joan said.
‘You have certainly broken a great many rules — not only the rule on which our order is based but legal rules. To enter a private house in such an unauthorized fashion is really quite shocking. Think of the scandal if you had been charged.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘If you had sought permission — but then you knew such permission would not be given. So you went ahead and followed your own instincts, forgetting that we lead a life that is based not upon individual instinct but the moral law. You did right to tell me in private. These matters are not for general confession.’
Sister Joan, on her knees, glanced up and caught a faint quirk on her superior’s grim mouth.
‘The entire community would be scandalized,’ Mother Dorothy was continuing. ‘I fear that your heart frequently rules your head, Sister, and I also fear that you set up your own will too often against the will of the community. We can only be grateful that God turned your ill-considered actions to the solving
