rather late now. After evening prayers we go into the great silence. I shouldn’t even be speaking now,’ she said with a cheeky grin. ‘Nobody speaks until after breakfast tomorrow.’
The great silence? Maybe that’s where my great-aunt had learned her skill, I thought.
I followed Sister Jerome along several gloomy corridors lined with closed doors, until we came to a door halfway down a long hall. The nun opened it and I found myself in a small room with barred windows, a narrow bed, a table and chair, and a stone floor. I’d slept in a lot of strange places, but a convent? This was the eeriest yet.
‘It’s almost like a cell,’ I said, before realising I probably sounded rude.
‘It is a cell,’ said Sister Jerome. ‘And the nun who used to sleep here has gone to her reward.’
‘Her reward?’ I asked, confused.
‘Yes. She’s with the Lord now.’
So now I was sleeping in a dead nun’s bed. It just got better and better!
‘All the cells along this corridor used to befilled with nuns, back in the old days. But the world has changed, even more than we realise, I expect, and this is the only empty cell still made up with furniture and bedding. There are extra blankets in a box under the bed.’ She patted the end of the mattress and a thick cloud of dust lifted.
‘I’ll bid you goodnight then,’ she said, clapping the dust from her hands. ‘We get up at five o’clock so don’t be alarmed if you hear people moving around in the dark.’
After she closed the door, I went to the window and peered through the bars, watching the rain slash against the glass. Compared to the warmth of the kitchen, this cell was cold. Outside the strong iron bars the wind was howling in the storm.
I should have felt safe but I didn’t.
I kept my clothes on and crawled into the bed, thinking of my great-aunt—Sister Mary Perpetua —sleeping somewhere in this convent, lost in silence.
19 JULY
166 days to go …
cal. ok, ok, i’m sorry. winter was right. there is something written on the jewel! not sure what, yet, but it’s in french.
unreal! call u soon.
Sister Jerome fed me again in the large kitchen—porridge and toast. We had the place to ourselves, she told me. Apparently most of the nuns ate together shortly after dawn, then headed to the small chapel that was attached to the building for Morning Prayer.
The roar of a powerful motorbike made me jump as it pulled up outside.
‘Ah,’ said Sister Jerome, ‘there’s Matthew on Blue Streak, arriving for work. Perhaps you could give him a hand today? I’m sure he’d love thecompany of someone other than us nuns, for a change!’
‘Sure,’ I said, ‘but can I see my aunt first?’
Sister Jerome patted my hand that was resting near her on the kitchen bench. ‘Don’t worry, dear, I’ll see to it that you have your time with her. Just don’t expect too much from it. Understood ?’
I waited behind Sister Jerome as she knocked gently and then opened the door of a cell upstairs. I followed her in.
In a chair by the window, with a blanket over her knees, sat a very old nun, swathed in black robes and a veil, with a white band across her forehead. She had the waxy, pale skin of a woman who’d been cooped up inside for a long time.
Millicent.
As we walked towards her, she slowly turned in our direction. When her gaze moved from Sister Jerome to me, her face turned as grey as death.
She shuddered and gripped the arms of her chair with her bony old hands and attempted to stand up, stumbling and almost falling. Sister Jerome and I rushed forward to help steady her.
She pushed us both away and stepped back,looking dumbfounded. Her voice came in a hoarse whisper.
‘Barty?’ she croaked. ‘You’ve come to see me? Barty!’ she repeated. ‘My little brother!’
I heard a startled gasp from Sister Jerome. ‘Mother of God, she spoke! Perpetua spoke!’ She ran to the door, opened her mouth as if to call the other sisters, then must have
The great silence? Maybe that’s where my great-aunt had learned her skill, I thought.
I followed Sister Jerome along several gloomy corridors lined with closed doors, until we came to a door halfway down a long hall. The nun opened it and I found myself in a small room with barred windows, a narrow bed, a table and chair, and a stone floor. I’d slept in a lot of strange places, but a convent? This was the eeriest yet.
‘It’s almost like a cell,’ I said, before realising I probably sounded rude.
‘It is a cell,’ said Sister Jerome. ‘And the nun who used to sleep here has gone to her reward.’
‘Her reward?’ I asked, confused.
‘Yes. She’s with the Lord now.’
So now I was sleeping in a dead nun’s bed. It just got better and better!
‘All the cells along this corridor used to befilled with nuns, back in the old days. But the world has changed, even more than we realise, I expect, and this is the only empty cell still made up with furniture and bedding. There are extra blankets in a box under the bed.’ She patted the end of the mattress and a thick cloud of dust lifted.
‘I’ll bid you goodnight then,’ she said, clapping the dust from her hands. ‘We get up at five o’clock so don’t be alarmed if you hear people moving around in the dark.’
After she closed the door, I went to the window and peered through the bars, watching the rain slash against the glass. Compared to the warmth of the kitchen, this cell was cold. Outside the strong iron bars the wind was howling in the storm.
I should have felt safe but I didn’t.
I kept my clothes on and crawled into the bed, thinking of my great-aunt—Sister Mary Perpetua —sleeping somewhere in this convent, lost in silence.
19 JULY
166 days to go …
cal. ok, ok, i’m sorry. winter was right. there is something written on the jewel! not sure what, yet, but it’s in french.
unreal! call u soon.
Sister Jerome fed me again in the large kitchen—porridge and toast. We had the place to ourselves, she told me. Apparently most of the nuns ate together shortly after dawn, then headed to the small chapel that was attached to the building for Morning Prayer.
The roar of a powerful motorbike made me jump as it pulled up outside.
‘Ah,’ said Sister Jerome, ‘there’s Matthew on Blue Streak, arriving for work. Perhaps you could give him a hand today? I’m sure he’d love thecompany of someone other than us nuns, for a change!’
‘Sure,’ I said, ‘but can I see my aunt first?’
Sister Jerome patted my hand that was resting near her on the kitchen bench. ‘Don’t worry, dear, I’ll see to it that you have your time with her. Just don’t expect too much from it. Understood ?’
I waited behind Sister Jerome as she knocked gently and then opened the door of a cell upstairs. I followed her in.
In a chair by the window, with a blanket over her knees, sat a very old nun, swathed in black robes and a veil, with a white band across her forehead. She had the waxy, pale skin of a woman who’d been cooped up inside for a long time.
Millicent.
As we walked towards her, she slowly turned in our direction. When her gaze moved from Sister Jerome to me, her face turned as grey as death.
She shuddered and gripped the arms of her chair with her bony old hands and attempted to stand up, stumbling and almost falling. Sister Jerome and I rushed forward to help steady her.
She pushed us both away and stepped back,looking dumbfounded. Her voice came in a hoarse whisper.
‘Barty?’ she croaked. ‘You’ve come to see me? Barty!’ she repeated. ‘My little brother!’
I heard a startled gasp from Sister Jerome. ‘Mother of God, she spoke! Perpetua spoke!’ She ran to the door, opened her mouth as if to call the other sisters, then must have
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