Obedience by Jacqueline Yallop Read Free Book Online

of communion finally broke the order of prayer, suddenly stirring the unlit dust, did Bernard shift, stretching her back and shoulders, as though emerging from sleep.
    She took her own communion quickly, trying to hide her splayed gait as she approached the altar, and bowing her head so low that the priest, too, had to bend as he offered her the host. She slid back into her pew, knelt as she was meant to, and waited.
    She knew most of the shoes. The scuffed toes and dented heels were learnt now and she watched them file slowly alongside, shuffling on the uneven stone of the floor. She did not look up, not until most of the line had passed and the movement around her was settling. Then, knowing it was time, she lifted her head so that the weight of the veil fell away from her face, and she watched the final communicants as they passed, the quick draw of her breath annoying God.
    Her father walked slowly, leaning on her sister’s arm, his face small and shrivelled, hardly a part of him. As they came by her pew they were, for a moment, a family, the three of them all that was left now. Bernard could have reached out and touched them, but her hands were claspedclose in front of her, her rosary roped across her fingers, and they carried on without pause, moving up to the altar rail and taking their places there. Bernard watched until Severine came by, clogging the aisle with children, looking down at Bernard as she always did and smiling, their communion made. Then Bernard closed her eyes, drawing the rosary beads sharply into her skin. The rite was ending. The priest led the altar boys away and the congregation followed, beginning already to chatter. Then it was only the nuns left in their pews, swelling the gathering quiet with prayer, and God, abrasive, berating Bernard mercilessly.
    Walking along the long corridor from the chapel after morning prayer, Mother Catherine warned Bernard.
    â€˜I want you to be circumspect,’ she said, gripping her prayer book more tightly than was necessary.
    Bernard did not understand the word. She tried to keep up with the Mother Superior’s wide stride, but her feet slipped on the tiles, unbalancing her, and she stumbled into a chair. When she stopped, Mother Catherine spoke again.
    â€˜It’s a difficult time, Sister. We need to have our wits about us.’
    â€˜Yes, Mother,’ said Bernard, straightening her belt and skirt.
    They came into the narrow bend in the corridor and were pushed together. Mother Catherine paused and spoke more quietly, turning to Bernard.
    â€˜It’s a time of vigilance, Sister, and of wisdom. God has put us at the heart of the village here – at the heart of Hiscommunity, to guide and to protect, to bear witness. We need to be circumspect.’
    She raised her hands into a stiff steeple, as though she might be beginning a prayer. Bernard instinctively bowed her head. Then Mother Catherine turned out again into the wide straight of the corridor, her pace quickening.
    â€˜There are things you do not understand, Sister,’ she said.
    Bernard knew this.
    Mother Catherine turned towards her study. She stopped again, waiting for Bernard to catch up with her, her hand already impatient on the door handle.
    â€˜You should let others guide you, Sister Bernard – you should be guided by those who
do
understand.’ She was suddenly sharp. ‘Consider, Sister, what you have to lose.’
    Bernard saw something was demanded of her. She nodded.
    â€˜Good,’ said Mother Catherine. ‘Then we are agreed. I know I can rely on you, Sister.’
    Mother Catherine went quickly into her study and shut Bernard out. The other nuns filed past, not seeming to notice. Bernard remained by the study door. She was not sure what had been said, but she did understand, vaguely, that it was about the soldier, and that she risked everything she knew if she continued to love him.
    In time the bustle after prayers subsided and the convent was