Darkest Truth_She Refused to Be Silenced by Catherine Kirwan

Author:Catherine Kirwan [Kirwan, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Crime, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, General, suspense
ISBN: 9781473554306
Google: jFFfDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 40554192
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2019-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

22

This time last week I hadn’t known that I’d had a sister, and I hadn’t met Jeremy Gill. Now, I was parked on the north side of Dublin’s inner city, across the street from the twelve-foot-high red sandstone wall that surrounded the Convent of the Blessed Eucharist: Rhona Macbride’s old school, and the place Jeremy Gill had made his first short film.

I had parted from Sadie at around ten o’clock the night before and had finally replied to Davy’s texts when I got home, to say that I’d had a bad day, couldn’t talk, and was turning off my phone. Later, when I was on my yoga mat, unsuccessfully trying to bring my attention to the breath, the doorbell went.

‘I didn’t want to let things rest the way they were this morning,’ Davy had said, over the intercom. ‘I thought we should at least try to talk about what happened.’

I buzzed him in and met him halfway down the stairs on the landing. We stood facing each other in silence. Then I undid his shirt and led him into my bedroom.

But as we were both leaving the house this morning I said, ‘This can’t happen again.’

‘It can,’ he said. ‘Though I think you’re right. It probably shouldn’t.’

He kissed me on the cheek and ran out the door into the black winter morning and he didn’t look back so he probably didn’t notice I’d stopped breathing.

By 7 a.m., I was driving up the M8. I had intended to hit Dublin around 10.00, just after the morning rush hour, but the traffic had been rainy day bad and it was well after eleven by the time I arrived at the convent.

I’d have to conceal my reasons for being there but the dishonesty wasn’t going to come as easy as it had of late. Lying to a graduate on work experience was one thing, but lying to a nun? After finishing primary school, I went to St Angela’s Convent Secondary on Patrick’s Hill. Most of the classes were taught by lay teachers, but not all. I found out fast that nuns are human lie detectors, Sister Attracta, the history teacher, especially. I had been studious, mostly, but on any occasion I hadn’t done my homework, unfailingly she had called on me to read my answer to the class. Still, it had been good training. I had learnt that, when lying, it was best to tell as much of the truth as possible.

I crossed the road and pressed the doorbell, my breath misting the brass plate on the door. It could do with a shine, I thought. But there were few nuns now, and most of those were geriatric, well beyond such duties. Many convents had closed, and there was a real risk that Sister Bernadette was dead, or had moved to a retirement home. I was about to press the bell again when the door was opened by a small, chubby, orange-tanned woman in a neon green velour leisure-suit. Times had changed, though surely not this much? But the woman was much too young to be a nun, I realised.

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