Read Online Obedience by Jacqueline Yallop - Free Book Online Page A

was warm, unready to begin the ordinary, everyday, unremarkable breakfast that would be their last together. Finally, though, it could not wait any longer without spoiling. She took the long loaf from the oven on its flat tray and broke it into pieces with burning fingers. She slid them onto a wide plate which she carried to the table, putting it carefully in the middle, where they could all reach their share. Steam rose into the cold air, and the smell of sweet dough and the years that had gone before. They waited for a moment, as Bernard made her way back to the bench, and then Thérèse said grace; she had not quite finished before Marie, grinning, made a grab for the largest piece of bread. Thérèse took another piece and dipped it in her coffee. She held it up to drain, the colour seeping through it like old blood. It dripped onto the table. Bernard made a note to scrub down properly when they had all finished. There was so much to remember, even now.
    Thérèse began tentatively, still letting the bread drip.
    â€˜So… our lives are changing, starting afresh.’
    She paused.
    â€˜There’re a lot of memories here to be leaving behind – our whole lives are here.’
    â€˜You’ve been here fifty years, Sister,’ said Bernard.
    â€˜Fifty-two. It’s a big change for me.’
    â€˜Yes.’ Bernard dipped her head low over her plate, breaking the bread into tiny pieces, and slipping them into her mouth from her open palm.
    â€˜And you, Sister?’
    Bernard looked up from the ritual, her hand flat out to Thérèse as if in some sort of supplication, the crumbson it sticky. She did not know what Thérèse wanted her to say.
    â€˜God tests us, Sister,’ she tried.
    Marie took the last piece of bread.
    â€˜You must have lived through many such tests, Sister Bernard.’ Thérèse looked straight at her, pressing so much curiosity into the question that her mouth hung open slightly.
    â€˜No, Sister,’ said Bernard. ‘None like this one.’
    And now it came to it, this seemed enough. Thérèse nodded, letting her eyes fall gently from Bernard’s small, flat face; allowing the revelations to remain hidden there in its openness.
    â€˜We should thank God for all His gifts, Sister,’ was all she could say.
    Bernard rubbed her hands together and reached for the empty plate in the middle of the table. Marie belched. There was a clatter at the front door.
    â€˜That’ll be the men.’ Bernard let the plate drop back onto the table. ‘For Sister Marie. They’ve come early.’
    Thérèse had only heard the noise faintly. She was surprised. It was actually beginning. They looked at each other for a moment and Thérèse raised her eyebrows. It was the only sign either of them was ever to give that they might have wished this parting to be different. Then together they heaved Marie up from the bench, pulling the napkin bib from her as two young men appeared at the door to the refectory, pushing an empty wheelchair.
    Bernard and Thérèse went to the porch and stood in its shelter, watching. Marie was carefully seated in the minibus and the wheelchair folded away. The rain, fallinglightly, obscured the windows and made the driveway dark. They did not wave as the minibus pulled away but remained outside until it had turned out of sight and the sound of it was gone.
    Bernard shook the damp from her veil. ‘I’ll fetch the box,’ she said.
    â€˜Yes, Sister. Thank you. If you leave it by the door, I’ll empty everything into it.’
    â€˜You should mark it, too. So that when they come to collect the rubbish, they’ll know to be careful.’
    â€˜I’ll do that,’ said Thérèse.
    But for a moment neither of them moved, surprised by the sound of their voices in the cavernous building and unwilling to step away alone.
    â€˜I’ll bring it up,’ said Bernard at last,