A Traitor to Memory

“It was never a question of what the Church would or would not allow. Richard didn't want a religious ceremony, so they never had one. Just the civil procedure at the register office.”


“But as a Catholic, wouldn't Mrs. Davies have wanted a Church wedding as well? Wouldn't she have been obliged to have one? I mean, for everything to be on the up and up with God and the Pope.”

“That's how it is, my dear. But Eugenie was Catholic only as far as it went.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that she received some sacraments but not others. She accepted some beliefs but not others.”

“When you join up, aren't you supposed to swear on the Bible or something that you'll abide by the rules? I mean, we know that she wasn't brought up Catholic, so does the Church take on members who abide by some rules and not by others?”

“You must remember that the Church has no secret police to make certain its members are walking the straight and narrow, Constable,” the nun replied. She took a bite from her biscuit and munched. “God has given us each a conscience so that we can monitor our own behaviour. Isn't it true, of course, that there are many topics on which individual Catholics part ways with Holy Mother the Church, but whether that puts their eternal salvation into jeopardy is something that only God could tell us.”

“Yet Mrs. Davies seemed to believe that God gets even with sinners during their lifetimes, if she thought that Virginia was God's way of dealing with Richard and Lynn.”

“Sure it is that when a misfortune befalls someone, people often interpret it that way. But consider Job. What was his sin that he was so tried by God?”

“Knowing and begetting on the wrong side of the sheets?” Barbara asked. “I can't remember.”

“You can't remember because there was no sin. Just the terrible trials of his faith in the Almighty.” Sister Cecilia took up her tea, wiping the biscuit crumbs from her fingers onto the nubby material of her skirt.

“Is that what you told Mrs. Davies, then?”

“I pointed out that had God wished to punish her, He certainly wouldn't have started out by giving her Gideon—a perfectly healthy child—as the first fruit of her marriage to Richard.”

“But as to Sonia?”

“Did she consider that child her punishment from God for her sins?” Sister Cecilia clarified. “She never said as much. But from the way she reacted when she was told about the wee one's condition … And then when she stopped attending church entirely once the baby died …” The nun sighed, brought her cup to her lips, and held it there as she considered how to reply. She finally said, “We can only surmise, Constable. We can only take the questions she asked with regard to Lynn and Virginia and infer from them how she herself might have felt and what she might have believed when she was faced with a similar trial.”

“What about the rest of them?”

“The rest?”

“The rest of the family. Did she mention how they felt? About Sonia? Once they knew …?”

“She never said.”

“Lynn says she left in part because of Richard Davies' dad. She says he had a few cogs not working, but the ones that did work were nasty enough for her to be glad the rest were misfiring. If a cog misfires. But I expect you know what I mean.”

“Eugenie didn't talk about the household.”

“She didn't mention anyone wanting to get rid of Sonia? Like Richard? Or his dad? Or anyone?”

Sister Cecilia's blue eyes widened over the biscuit she'd raised to her lips. She said, “Mary and Joseph. No. No. This was not a house of evil people. Troubled people, perhaps, as we're all troubled from time to time. But to want to be rid of a baby so desperately that one of them might have …? No. I can't think that of any of them.”

“But someone did kill her, and you told me yesterday that you didn't believe it was Katja Wolff.”

“Didn't and don't,” the nun affirmed.

“But someone had to have done the deed, unless you believe that the hand of God swept down and held that baby under the water. So who? Eugenie herself? Richard? Granddad? The lodger? Gideon?”

“He was eight years old!”

“And jealous that a second child had come to take the spotlight off him?”

“She could hardly do that.”

“But she could take everyone's attention from him. She could take up their time. She could take most of their money. She could tap the well till the well was dry. And if it went dry, where would that leave Gideon?”

“No eight-year-old child thinks that far into the future.”

“But someone else might have, someone who had a vested interest in keeping him front and centre in the household.”