Let Loose the Dogs by Maureen Jennings Read Free Book Online Page B

Susanna died, but he didn’t have much English and they were awkward with each other.
    It was left to Sister Agnes to instruct Murdoch on the procedure of the funeral. A High Mass was to be held at seven o’clock. Susanna’s body would be buried in the little cemetery behind the convent, but this, too, was enclosed, and he would not be allowed to visit the grave. “Monsieur Lavalle will take you to the station. Our Reverend Mother wishes me to extend to you her sincerest condolences. She also would like to inform you that Sister Philomena died shriven.”
    Murdoch bit back a retort. He wouldn’t have expected anything else given she was a professed nun. God had called her and now had claimed her. He felt a momentary pinch of fear at his own thoughts, which were approaching the blasphemous.
    Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the extern had ushered him into a tiny room adjoining the parlour where there was a couch. He hadn’t expected to sleep, but fatigue won out and he had actually fallen into a restless sleep, disturbed by dreams of pursuit and a monster that changed its shape every time he thought he had escaped. At six-thirty the convent bells began to peal. Sister Agnes returned, bringing him a slice of bread and a cup of strong, bitter coffee. She made no attempt at conversation, but her expression was kind. Shyly she indicated that there was a commode behind a screen in the corner of the room. On the washstand was a jug of tepid water and a razor and soap. When she left him alone, he felt an intense and childish pang of loneliness.
    The priest had uncovered the chalice and was consecrating the wine now.
    HIC EST ENIM CALIX SANGUINIS MEI NOVI ET AETERNI TESTAMENT …
    Again Murdoch’s thoughts drifted away. The chapel was austere enough, but the chalice was of an ornate gold and there was a life-sized crucifix hung above the altar. He wondered what Mrs. Enid Jones would think about such adornments. As far as he knew the Baptist Church wouldn’t even allow a wooden cross in the church, and the ministers wore black suits. He sighed. It was at times like this that he had to face how far apart they were in their respective faiths. Suddenly, he heard his sister’s name, her religious name that is. Fr. Proulx was reciting a prayer for the dead.
    Memento etiam, Domine, famulorum tuarum. SOEUR PHILOMENA , qui nos praecesserunt cum signo fidei, et dormiunt ni somno paces . He looked in his missal, although he knew what the words meant. In spite of his anger, they gave him comfort.
    Remember also, Lord, your handmaiden, who has gone before us with the sign of faith and rests in the sleep of peace .
    In a brief conversation with Sister Agnes, Murdoch realised that they believed him to be the sole remaining member of the family. In fact, he hadn’t heard anything of his father for many years, but he assumed he was still alive. He didn’t know if Susanna had deliberately chosen not to tell the nuns or if it was a misunderstanding. Neither he nor his sister had seen their father since Bertie’s death. A few days after he’d gone, Murdoch and Susanna, afraid of what could happen between him and his father, had fled. He was just thirteen; she was nine. They had made their way to their only aunt, their mother’s older sister, who lived forty miles away up the coast of Nova Scotia. Aunt Weldon was a spinster, a teacher who took them in because she had to – because our Lord commands us to have charity or we are as nothing. She had repeated this many times.
    The priest was breaking the Host over the chalice, and the flat piece of unleavened bread made a snapping sound. Fr. Proulx was grey haired, well past middle age, and stooped. He had to peer shortsightedly at the book his server held in front of him.
    The priest turned to face the communicants and held out the Host. One by one, the three women stood up and went to the communion rail. Murdoch followed them and they knelt together at the altar rail. He opened his