Vow of Penance by Veronica Black Read Free Book Online Page A

always so puzzling. If a hungry person steals food one can understand the motive without, of course, condoning the action.’
    She raised her hand in a brief blessing. Filing out with the others Sister Joan’s mind flew to the newspaper cutting up in the storeroom. She had hesitated to draw a parallel between events twenty years apart but when she had a few minutes to spare she would go up and read the item again. For the moment, however, there was the soup to be served and drunk.
    In the kitchen Sister Jerome was stirring the heavy tureen, her face set in the grim lines that seemed to be habitual to it. She glanced up briefly but asked no question. Sister Joan, on impulse, said, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you, Sister, but someone has vandalized one of the big oaks near the old tennis courts and Mother Dorothy wished to discuss the matter with Sister Perpetua and myself. You didn’t hear anything unusual late last night or this morning I suppose?’
    ‘Nothing, Sister.’ Sister Jerome answered curtly, gave the soup a final stir, and waited.
    ‘Then we’d better take lunch upstairs,’ Sister Joan said, a trifle put out by the other’s complete lack of curiosity. ‘Shall I help you with the tureen?’
    ‘I can manage.’ Sister Jerome grasped the handles of the large earthenware tureen, lifted it as easily as if it had been filled with feathers, and went out of the kitchen.
    ‘Sister Samson,’ Sister Joan said, and surprised Sister Teresa, who was just coming in from the yard, into a giggle.
    ‘I’m sorry, Sister. It’s just that you’re so amusing,’ Sister Teresa said hastily composing her face.
    ‘I hope not,’ Sister Joan said wryly. ‘What a thing to be remembered for! “She was always amusing” is hardly the kind of obituary one wishes to see read out round the other convents after one’s demise.’
    ‘By then one probably wouldn’t care,’ Sister Teresa said. ‘I went out to check up on Lilith.’
    ‘Oh?’ Counting soup bowls Sister Joan raised a questioning eyebrow.
    ‘Sister Gabrielle says that one of the trees has been damaged, slashed, so I went out to make sure that Lilith hadn’t been injured. Some people go round slashing horses, you know.’
    ‘But that’s dreadful! How do you know?’
    ‘Sister Gabrielle mentioned it,’ Sister Teresa said demurely and carried the bowls out into the passage.
    Despite the lack of newspapers or television Sister Gabrielle gleaned information of events in the outer world as a bee gathers pollen. She was, thought Sister Joan, following with the napkins, a grapevine unto herself.
    Standing at her place in the dining-room Sister Joan murmured her ‘Amen’ to the Grace and drank the soup in her bowl. Drank – spluttered slightly – and saw that the other Sisters were having equal difficulty in getting it down. Mother Dorothy was sipping hers in brief experimental bursts, Sister Perpetua openly grimacing. Only Sister Hilaria who never noticed what she ate and Sister Jerome were consuming it without any change of expression.
    ‘Sister, Lenten fare is bleak enough already,’ Mother Dorothy said at last, ‘without your mistaking the sugar shaker for the salt cellar.’
    ‘But I—’ Sister Joan bit her lip.
    ‘I put sugar in, Mother Prioress,’ Sister Jerome said. ‘In our London house I was accustomed to flavour foodwith salt instead of sugar, sugar instead of salt, as a penance during Lent. I assumed it would be the same here.’
    ‘It is not,’ Mother Dorothy said frigidly, adding fairly, ‘Sister Joan, I was over-quick to accuse you of carelessness. My apologies. Perhaps you would take the time to explain to Sister Jerome that we don’t add to Lenten austerities here by spoiling nourishing food whatever they may do in London.’
    They were filing out, returning to their duties. Sister Jerome, looking as calm as if she had just been praised instead of mildly reprimanded, was gathering up the empty bowls. Sister Jerome had also