The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

We spun around guiltily to see Sister Angelique standing behind us. She was staring in horror and disbelief at us and it came to me that maybe they were in the money-making scheme together and we were somehow in danger.


“Return to your dormitory immediately,” she said. “I shall report this to Sister Jerome.”

“Sister Jerome fell down the steps of the crypt,” Gerda said. “We were trying to get help.”

“Sister Jerome? Mon dieu.” She ran over to the steps, disappeared into darkness then reappeared again. “We must summon a doctor immediately. She is badly hurt,” she said. She took keys from her own belt and opened the door. Then she scurried across to the far wall of the tower and began to tug on a rope that hung there. Far above us in the tower the bell began to toll. The result was immediate. I heard doors opening and closing on the floor above, the sound of feet tapping along the corridor and then down the stairs. Nuns came toward us, looking with amazement to see us standing huddled together in their hallway.

“Sister Jerome has fallen,” Sister Angelique gestured toward the chapel. “In the crypt.”

“Is she badly hurt?” Sister Perpetua pushed through the crowd.

“She may be dead by now,” Gerda said. “She wasn’t moving.”

Sister Pepetua took immediate control. “You, Angelique, go and fetch Mother. Help her to come down. Gerda, go and get dressed, then wait for Father Bernard. When he comes take his pony and trap and go for the doctor. You know where he lives, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sister.” Gerda ran off, back through the chapel.

The rest of us made our way down the steps behind the nuns. “Help me to turn her over. Gently now. We don’t want to do more damage,” Sister Perpetua said, kneeling beside Sister Jerome’s lifeless body.

I watched in horrified fascination as they turned Sister Jerome over onto her back. Her face was a bloody mess, hardly recognizable as a face at all. The nuns and several of the girls crossed themselves. I heard a whimper from the back of the crowd.

Sister Perpetua put her own face close to Jerome’s battered one. “Sister, can you hear me? The priest will be here in a few minutes. Don’t go before you’ve had the last rites.”

Sister Jerome’s eyes opened, the left one half-swollen shut and bloody. Her eyes searched the group and fastened on me. “That girl,” she said in a croaking voice as she raised a hand to point at me. “She tried to kill me. She pushed me down the stairs. She’s mad. She needs putting away, locking up.”

They turned to look at me. “Not true!” I shouted and my voice echoed from the vaulted ceiling. “It was Sister Jerome who tried to kill me, the way she killed Katy. She came at me and tried to push me down the steps. But I managed to keep my balance and she went flying down the stairs instead of me.”

“Katy fell. I was nowhere near,” Sister Jerome said, gasping out the words in a rasping whisper. “You see, she’s mad. Quite mad. I don’t know what I was thinking when I let her in here.”

“Yes you do,” I said. “You wanted to make money from a red-haired baby, just like you’ve been making money from all those other babies you’ve sold.” I turned to the girl next to me. “Take the keys and go to Sister’s room. In the wardrobe on the top shelf you’ll find an attaché case. Bring it here. Quickly.”

I looked back at the others. “I’ll show you proof of what Sister Jerome has been getting up to behind your backs.”

One of the young nuns had returned with water and was sponging Sister’s face. Her breath was now ragged.

“Mad and dangerous. Lock her away before she hurts someone else,” she gasped.

I could sense hands waiting to grab me. The girl came running back with the attaché case. “Open it,” I said. I took out the oilskin pouch. “Look at this. It’s full of money.”

“Of course it is, foolish child,” Sister said with surprising force. “I’m the convent banker. We’ve been saving up for a new roof. We almost have enough, thanks to my business acumen.”

“Do your sisters know how you’ve been amassing this money?” I asked. “That you’ve essentially been selling babies?” I looked up at faces staring at me with puzzled fascination. “Maureen O’Byrne threatened to let out your secret, didn’t she? Unless you let her keep her child.”

“Maureen O’Byrne?” Sister Perpetua asked. “What has she to do with this?”

“Do you want to tell her, Sister?” I asked, staring down at Sister Jerome.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about. Mad.” The voice was little more than a whisper now.

“Take the lid off Sister Francine’s coffin,” I said, “and I’ll show you what Sister Jerome is capable of.”

“Open Sister’s coffin?” one of the nuns said. “The girl really is mad.”

“Do as she says,” Sister Perpetua said quietly.

“But she’s not been dead long. Think of the stench.”