Murder in the Cathedral by Cora Harrison

Author:Cora Harrison [Harrison, Cora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2022-05-19T00:00:00+00:00

TEN

Slightly guiltily, on the evening before the funeral of little Enda, the Reverend Mother prayed for a fine day. She had been to so many funerals and most of them seemed to have had additional sadness poured upon them from the heavens. When she got up at her usual early hour she went straight to the window. Not raining, thank God, but a thick, heavy mist. Nothing unusual about that, but she prayed that it might be lifted before the funeral for the little boy, and she continued that prayer while she washed and dressed and allowed it to stay in her mind during the morning mass in the convent chapel.

But, to no avail. The fog was still as heavy and thick as ever when she emerged from the chapel. Not a light grey mist such as could be seen by the sea, but a Cork city fog: dark yellow, smelling of the river, of the local gasworks and saturated with flecks of pollution. The Reverend Mother grimly went through the morning’s work while using every spare second to bombard heaven with her prayers, but the fog, if anything, grew thicker as the day progressed. By the time that the South Chapel bell sounded the hour of two, she had begun to despair. She leafed through her well-worn copy of the thoughts of her patron saint, Thomas Aquinas, but the page that she opened said blandly, ‘Quidquid recipitur ad modum recipientis recipitur’, and she shut it again with a moment of irritation. So very like a man to shift the blame onto the shoulders of the recipient! Misunderstandings, she told herself firmly, would not occur if everyone took the trouble to speak clearly and with a view to conveying meaning rather than to obscuring meaning. Perhaps, she thought, it might be a good conversation point at the next meeting called by their own bishop, ostensibly to hear the views of the clergy within his jurisdiction.

She took her well-worn umbrella from its place on her study wall and set off on the short walk to the church. All very well for Aquinas to preach that whatever is received is in accordance with the nature of the recipient. The learned saint didn’t live in Cork, but in the sun-drenched south of Italy. She wondered how cheerful he would be if his plans were ruined by a fog like that.

The church was virtually empty, confirming her worst fears. Two people only. Mrs O’Sullivan, weeping in the front seat, and the sexton, Tom Hayes, discreetly huddled into the corner of the seat by the door. She wondered whether to go up to the front seat and to kneel beside Mrs O’Sullivan, but then she decided that this would only embarrass the woman and so went to her usual seat towards the end of the church.

The coffin was still open. A beautiful little coffin lined with white velvet. Without hesitation the Reverend Mother had spent the money handed to her by the bishop, Dr Thompson,

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