Quiet as a Nun: A Jemima Shore Mystery by Fraser Antonia

Author:Fraser, Antonia [Fraser, Antonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409137825
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2011-07-13T23:00:00+00:00

10

Particular friendships

‘Poor Miss Shore,’ said Sister Agnes softly, pausing in her ministrations. ‘You have quite a nasty lump here on the back of your head.’ Her fingers explored my skull gently. Then she took my hand and guided it to the back of my head. There was indeed a vast lump there. Sister Agnes’s fingers had not hurt me, but my own clumsier touch caused me to wince violently. And that in its turn made me realise that my whole head was in the power of a huge headache, dormant, except that, as I lay on one of the chapel’s pews, the faintest movement brought it to ferocious life.

‘How in God’s name did I get here?’

‘I think you must have fallen and hit your head. Here on the edge of the pew. See how sharp the wood is.’ Once more Sister Agnes guided my fingers to the bevelled end of the pew. Her guidance was rather a pleasant sensation. But I really had to sit up. Reluctantly I did so. The effort certainly aroused all the devils of the headache inside my forehead. And I felt rather sick into the bargain. Sister Agnes also appeared to be dusting off my coat and boots – what an abnormal amount of dust for the spotless chapel to contain – they were really filthy.

Nevertheless—

‘I mean, how did I get here? Into the chapel?’

Sister Agnes did not answer immediately, but performed a few more little soft efficient dabs.

‘You’re not quite yourself yet, Miss Shore,’ she said, her face turned away. ‘You’ve probably forgotten just how you came to be here. A blow on the head can do that, you know.’

As a matter of fact, she was right. Or had been right. Up till a moment ago, the precise circumstances preceding my unconsciousness had eluded me. But now they came back, flooding back, along with the headache. And now I felt the shape of my torch – once more back in my pocket.

What was I doing in the chapel indeed? Yes, but what was Sister Agnes doing in the chapel for that matter? I had no idea of the time. It was still dark outside. No hint of grey showed through the stained glass windows which surrounded the altar.

Under the circumstances I decided that Sister Agnes had as much explaining to do as I did. I was not disposed to make her my confidante.

‘You’re right. I must have fallen and hit my head,’ I replied vaguely. ‘I can’t remember anything else.’

‘That’s right, Miss Shore,’ replied Sister Agnes sweetly. ‘Relax. Don’t you try to remember. Don’t strain yourself.’

She helped me to my feet. I staggered and nearly fell on her. But Sister Agnes was unexpectedly strong and wiry to the touch, for all her professional gentleness and grace of movement. She managed to support me. Then, in a passable imitation of a frog-march, Sister Agnes helped me up the visitors’ stairs.

At the outer door to the chapel we paused for breath. It was bolted. Once more bolted.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.