The Rosary Garden by Nicola White (best books to read now TXT) 📕

to get us off the ground as it were, if you’d outline the scope of your investigation so far – and perhaps indicate which areas you think we might assist with, and we can take the discussion from there.’

T. P. looked at Swan and crossed his arms.

A knock sounded on the door, and the dark nun entered with a tea tray. No one spoke as she settled the tray on the desk, filled four cups and handed them round.

‘Thank you, Sister Dreyfus,’ said Reverend Mother as the nun exited backwards, the empty tray held to her chest like a shield.

Once the door closed, Swan looked to the head nun. ‘Sister Dreyfus?’ He had decided to ignore the monsignor.

‘It’s an unusual name in these parts,’ agreed Mother Mary Paul. She dropped her voice and leaned towards him. ‘Family came here in the war. Converted.’

‘Yes,’ said the monsignor, ‘perhaps we could—’

‘Tell me, Mother,’ said Swan, overriding him, ‘why is it that some nuns have Christian names after the “Sister” and others have family names?’

Mary Paul stroked her veil as he had seen other women smooth their hair.

‘Well, it varies from order to order. In the Sisters of the Annunciation, both apply. Nuns like Sister Dreyfus keep their family names while nuns such as myself and Sister Bernadette, who you’ve … erm … met, were moved to adopt the names of saints or holy people who had particular meaning for them. I took the name of our founder – Blessed Mary Paul Grammaticus.’

‘I never realised that.’

‘Most interesting,’ said Monsignor Kelly without a shred of sincerity. ‘I’m eager to know, Detectives, whether you’ve identified the poor child.’

Swan let T. P. waffle on a bit about the case, how everything that could be done was being done, and so on. He told them the enquiries were concentrating on the community surrounding the convent grounds.

‘I wish now that we had put gates across the back lane,’ said the nun, ‘but we’ve never been in the habit of locking out the world.’

‘That may have to change,’ said Monsignor Kelly.

‘Gates wouldn’t necessarily have prevented this from happening,’ said Swan, ‘just caused it to happen elsewhere. Unless the baby was already in the convent. In that case, our task might be narrower in scope.’

The monsignor and the Reverend Mother stiffened.

‘It’s a theory I have to consider.’

‘That isn’t possible.’ Mary Paul was adamant.

‘How can you be sure? This is a very large establishment, Mother.’ Swan suddenly realised how odd, and somehow disloyal, it felt to be calling an acquaintance Mother.

‘Out of term, it’s a very quiet place. We nuns live together in a community with only a few lay helpers for the grounds. We eat and pray together every day. Not much gets by me.’

‘So there’s been nothing different?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind when I speak individually to the nuns.’

The monsignor and Mother Mary Paul exchanged a glance.

‘Is that necessary at this stage?’ asked the monsignor. ‘The disruption and anxiety have taken their toll on these women already.’

Mother Mary Paul looked annoyed for an instant, but worked her face into an expression of passivity. Not a woman who cared to be patronised, even by a monsignor.

‘I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t interview your community. There is no accusation to be inferred – it’s simply procedure.’

Monsignor Kelly sighed, but didn’t press the matter further.

‘I’ll need a list of all the nuns, even if they weren’t here on Monday, and also names and telephone numbers of the hired staff that you mentioned.’

Mary Paul jotted down some notes.

‘We’ll need that today, Mother,’ said T. P., ‘and it would benefit us if you could include each woman’s age?’

The nun looked up. ‘Their age?’

Swan’s patience vanished. ‘Look, we’re not suggesting a strip-search,’ he said. ‘We just need to know the age.’

Swan watched her write ‘AGE’ and underline it.

‘The phones haven’t stopped ringing here, and at the diocesan office, since news of this came out,’ said Monsignor Kelly. ‘Journalists and busybodies. The last thing we want to do is fan the flames of any salacious publicity. The archbishop is concerned the police don’t encourage this kind of insinuation by the line of their enquiries.’

And no doubt the archbishop had many friends in Garda HQ and in the Dáil with whom he was willing to share those concerns.

‘There is no insinuation, Monsignor. And for what it’s worth, flames get fanned when an investigation can’t progress quickly and journalists fall back on their imaginings.’

‘It’s confidentiality that concerns me – things leaking out.’

‘Not from my investigations, they don’t.’

Sometimes Swan wondered at his own idiot reflexes.

Monsignor Kelly smiled. ‘You haven’t seen this morning’s papers then.’

Swan looked at T. P., who gave him back a minuscule head-shake. They’d been shut in the case conference earlier, hadn’t had the time. But someone would have shown him if there was anything important. Eager to move on, Swan arranged to have the list collected and said they’d set up interviews with all the nuns within the week.

‘I realise that it’s hard for you – for all the sisters – coming into contact with something like this.’

The look she gave him was fierce.

‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking we sit in our holy tower arranging flowers and sweeping floors. Some of my nuns work with the least fortunate in the city. They see poverty and degradation and death.’

‘Point taken.’

Swan rose to his feet, T. P. followed.

‘I just don’t want them subjected to suggestions of … promiscuity or whatever. It wouldn’t be … fair.’ She reached up her sleeve for the wad of tissue. He had wondered when it would reappear.

Monsignor Kelly shifted one hand over so that it lay in front of the Reverend Mother. A restraint.

‘The Church will assist in whatever way it can. In fact the Reverend Mother has thoughtfully drawn up a list of girls she thought might be worth talking to, for your purposes.’

The monsignor passed the piece of paper that had been lying on the table to Swan. He sat back down to study it. It was