False Idols by Alison Joseph

Author:Alison Joseph [JOSEPH, ALISON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Louise put her head round the door of the kitchen. ‘Oh, Sister, you’re there.’ Agnes was sitting at the kitchen table, alone, with a large mug of tea. Louise came and sat next to her.

Agnes turned to her. ‘What did you want to see me about?’

‘Did you read my reflections?’

‘Yes.’ Agnes tried to hide her weariness, tried to think of something to say about them.

‘Did you read the bit about love and relationships?’

‘Yes.’

Louise got up and poured herself some tea. ‘Only I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Oh.’ Agnes stared at her blankly.

‘About love, I mean. This young man, the one who’s dying, he’s twenty-five, he’s the same age as me it turns out. And I’ve been watching him with Sarah, and they’re very much in love, and I thought, I was wrong about it being a compromise. Human love, I mean. Because that’s why he’s going to live, because we — I mean, because Sarah loves him.’ She’d coloured slightly, and now turned away to sip her tea. ‘He’s called Richard,’ she added.

‘Oh.’

‘He’s getting better,’ Louise said. ‘He will get better.’ She turned to Agnes and smiled. ‘I lent him some books to read, and then he sent for some books from home and he’s lent me some of those. It’s nice of him, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Agnes looked at her, aware that she suddenly seemed terribly young.

‘Anyway.’ Louise stood up. She seemed awkward, pink-cheeked, her mug of tea left half-full on the table. ‘I’d better go. I’ll write some more reflections about love, about human love.’

‘Yes. That would be nice. Thank you.’

Agnes stared after her as the kitchen door closed behind her.

When I was her age I’d been a nun for three years.

Perhaps I was too young, too.

* * *

At five to eight, Agnes flopped down on Athena’s sofa. ‘Expect nothing of me, Athena. I’m drained. Worn out.’

Athena handed her a glass of clear fizzy liquid that looked like gin and tonic.

‘How did you guess?’ Agnes smiled and sipped it.

‘Expect nothing of me either, sweetie. Finish that and we’ll go to the restaurant, I’ve booked for quarter past.’

* * *

‘So.’ Athena waited while the waitress poured them two glasses of white wine. ‘Bad day?’

‘You could say that. How about you?’

‘Not so good. Shall we just forgo any conversation and concentrate on drinking?’

Agnes laughed. ‘It’s tempting. Except it’s Lent.’

‘You can have mineral water.’

‘Must I? The problem is, you see, that I’ve always considered the odd glass of wine to be an act of celebration, of sharing in the material world, giving thanks for God’s creation.’

‘And there’s me just thinking it was about having a drink. Cheers, by the way.’ Athena raised her glass.

Agnes turned her glass around in her fingers, watching the light from the candle at their table refracting into gold. ‘If God made all this, it seems churlish to turn one’s back on it.’

‘Absolutely, sweetie.’

‘On the other hand, I can see that we shouldn’t attach to these things, these illusory consolations.’

‘Illusory? This wine seems pretty real to me.’ Athena drank some more.

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