29

Two days passed and no one came. That quietness hung over the Convent, there was no one on the path; no voices and running footsteps in the playground, no rings at the dispensary bell. There was no sign of Kanchi. Every day the books were set out, the lace cushions put ready on the table, the General’s desk opened for him and his chair dusted, and every day they were put away again.

Sister Briony finished her spring cleaning; Sister Adela started her silent coolies on their work each morning and talked over her plans with the strangely monosyllabic Nima; Sister Ruth taught lesson after lesson to Joseph who did not hear a word that she said, and Sister Honey sat sodden with crying, and worked on a particularly elaborate rose pattern with four small cushions with their spread bobbins sitting useless on the table opposite her.

‘Really, for all the good we’re doing, we might be the Sunnyasi,’ said Sister Ruth.

‘Are you so sure he does no good?’ asked Sister Clodagh.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Sister Ruth.

‘Think about it,’ said Sister Clodagh. ‘Sister Briony, we will have extra time for meditation to-night after Evensong. I think we all need it.’

But all through the hour they were listening and straining, even Sister Adela was not as prompt as usual. Sister Honey wept steadily all the way through, and Sister Ruth sat with a smile round her lips, not attempting to pay attention.

The long dragging idle day passed, and the next. There was only a pretence of doing work. It seemed to Sister Clodagh that she sat for hours at her desk, trying to keep her thoughts at bay. There were no report books, no accounts, nothing to inspect, though she went round from Sister to Sister to keep up the pretence that they were busy, and found endless small tasks for them to do; they were so obviously manufactured that it hardly seemed worth while doing them. The silence was unnerving; the servants and coolies and workmen used to shout and talk while they worked, and, though the Sisters had often complained about it, now they missed it. The loud cheerful people were sinister in their silence, and if anyone came down the path, they went quickly and sullenly past the house, turning their faces away.

The weather was fine and warm, the roses filled the garden with hot sweetness, the folds of the hills were blue and the snows shone solidly into the sky. Sister Clodagh declared a holiday all round and organized sewing parties in the garden and thought of small competitions to make them think of something else. But her kindness and the relaxation only seemed to make the trouble worse. She had hoped to make something of it; she had hoped that it would bring them closer together, and had imagined them drawing together as one person. They were not close together, they preferred to sit apart without anything to say to one another, they were not struggling, they were simply waiting, and in chapel she felt that not one of them, not even herself, had prayed.

She dared not think; she sat at her desk and, pretending it was important, she began to translate a carol for next Christmas into the dialect.

It was on the fourth day at dinner-time that Sister Honey burst into tears for the hundredth time. She was cleaning her plate with a piece of bread when she bent her head and began to sob violently. ‘I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it!’ she sobbed. ‘I couldn’t let him die without t-trying to help him. I loved him so.’

They looked wearily at one another. Sister Adela took the piece of bread from her hand and laid it down. Sister Clodagh was beginning: ‘Now, Sister, you must really –’ when Sister Ruth sprang to her feet and crashed her plate down on the table.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ she cried, in a high-pitched voice. ‘I can’t stand any more. What’s she crying for, I’d like to know? Not for what she’s done, but for a little black brat of a baby that’s not even her own. That’s why she’s crying, only she hasn’t the courage to say so. Because all the time she’s been pining and longing for a baby of her own. Yes,’ she sank her voice and leaned towards them and whispered, ‘she – wants to – have – a – baby – of – her – own.’ She stood up again and cried: ‘She won’t say so. She’s afraid to say it. She’s afraid. And you’re afraid,’ she turned on Sister Clodagh. ‘You’re more afraid than anyone. You’re afraid we’ll know why you steal away and walk on the terrace, aren’t you? And why you have consultations alone in the office, and why you’re always visiting the buildings. You’re afraid we’ll find out, that’s why you hide it. But I know. Yes, I know. And I’ll tell you something else. It isn’t you he likes, it’s me. Yes, me. That’s why you bully me, that’s why you make them watch me. Oh yes, you’re clever, very clever, but I’m not afraid of you. Not if you starve me and poison me and shut me up. I’m still not afraid. He’ll help me. I’ll tell him all about you. I’ll tell him what you do to me and he’ll be very angry. So take care.’

She put her chair between herself and them. ‘I know you’re all watching me,’ she whispered, ‘I know all about you, but take care. Take care. He’s stronger than you are.’ Her eyes looked at them without any sense in them, strangely terrifying. ‘I know you’re looking at me, but I’m not afraid. I’m stronger than any of you.’

‘She’s mad,’ breathed Sister Briony.

‘Don’t move,’ said Sister Clodagh in an undertone. ‘Sit still. Go on eating. Don’t look at her.’

She stood behind her chair watching the dip and rise of their heads over their plates, at Sister Clodagh breaking her bread and Sister Honey clattering her fork on her plate. She was shaking now so that the chair legs rattled on the floor; she looked at her own place, at the plate she had broken and the salt cellar she had spilt and her lips began to shake too. She pushed her chair in violently and ran out of the room.

‘Let her go. Don’t touch her,’ said Sister Briony, catching Sister Adela who had jumped up after her. ‘It’s over now. We must leave her alone for a little, and presently when she’s calmer, I’ll go out and talk to her. None of you must look as if anything had happened. She must be sent away. Dear, what a week we’re having.’

None of them could finish the meal; they could not forget Sister Ruth standing behind the chair talking in that threatening whispering voice. It wiped everything else out of their minds and filled the whole afternoon. The servants went to their quarters, whispering and predicting, the news spread to the village and the coolie lines.

Sister Briony found her sitting on the horse-block. She was perfectly quiet and looked up calmly when Sister Briony came and leant on the railing beside her. Sister Briony looked out across the gulf; she was trying to think of what she could do next. Her lips moved once or twice, but she could find nothing to say.

Sister Ruth pressed her hands together. ‘Steady. Steady now,’ she was telling herself. ‘You’ve done it once, you mustn’t do it again. Be careful. Be steady. Don’t think about Them.’ ‘They’ve been cutting the bamboos,’ she said aloud.

‘So they have,’ said Sister Briony looking at the sharp white and green spikes below them.

‘They look like swords,’ said Sister Ruth, her eyes on them.

‘Yes, don’t they.’

Sister Ruth stretched and yawned. ‘Why does doing nothing make you feel so tired?’

‘Do you feel tired?’ asked Sister Briony, carefully. ‘You shouldn’t do that in this beautiful air.’

‘I feel as if I’d been beaten all over,’ said Sister Ruth.

‘You do look a little tired.’ Sister Briony chose her words carefully. ‘Would you like me to get permission for you to lie down?’

Sister Ruth did not make her usual protests. ‘It’s my head that’s so bad,’ she said. ‘It isn’t as if there were any work for us to do, is it?’

Sister Briony helped her on to her bed and drew the curtains of her cubicle. ‘I’ll get Ayah to sit here with her mending,’ she thought, ‘and tell her to fetch me if she gets restless. I’ll give her a strong powder that will put her right under for a little while, and quieten her down.’

‘Here’s something for your head,’ she said, giving her a white paper. ‘Tip it into your mouth and drink some water after it.’

Sister Ruth tipped it neatly down between her coverlet and her chin and drank the water. ‘Thank you, Sister,’ she said.

When Sister Briony looked in half an hour later she was sound asleep.

It was in the evening that Ayah knocked on the office door where Sister Clodagh and Sister Briony had been for two hours talking, and wondering what was the best thing they could do.

‘I came to tell you,’ said Ayah, licking her lips uneasily, ‘that it’s a quarter past six and no one has rung l’Angelus.’

‘Where’s Sister Ruth? Where’s the young Lemini? Why have you left her?’

‘Well, I came to tell you that too, Lemini. She’s gone out.’

‘Gone out! Ayah, why didn’t you stop her?’

‘You should never stop mad people from doing what they want,’ said Ayah decidedly. ‘You should never interfere with them at all.’

‘She might hurt herself,’ cried Sister Briony.

‘If she’s really mad, that won’t matter,’ said Ayah. And if she’s not really mad she’ll look after herself.’

‘And you mean to say you just sat there and let her go?’

‘Well – I can’t tell you a lie, Lemini. I wasn’t there when she went.’

‘You left her after all I told you?’

‘She was sound asleep. I touched her toe and she didn’t move, I gave it a good jerk and still she didn’t move, so I went down for some tea.’

‘What time was this?’

‘It was more than time for my food. I know that, and the Lemini hadn’t given me any time to have any. My head was going round and round with hunger.’

‘About three o’clock?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘What time did you go back?’

‘Oh, I wasn’t away very long. Let me see. I had a little food and I gave a cup of rice to the hens, and then my brother’s son came. He had made some good arrangements for the summer; he’s bearer in the hotel at Ghoom –’

‘And so you stayed talking for most of the afternoon! A long time?’

‘Oh, I wasn’t very long,’ said Ayah. ‘I went back and sat down on my stool and everything was quiet and still. Then I thought I’d take a little look, and if you’ll believe me, the Lemini wasn’t in the bed. I was never so astonished in my life.’

‘She may have been gone over three hours!’ said Sister Clodagh.