Trixie intervened.
‘That’s where I don’t get it. Each man took a shilling change, so that means each one had paid nine shillings instead of ten.’
We all chorused, ‘And three nines are twenty-seven plus two in the waiter’s pocket makes twenty-nine. So what happened to the other shilling?’
We all looked at each other blankly. Fred carried on raking and shovelling and whistling his tuneless whistle.
‘Well, what happened to it, Fred?’ shouted Trixie.
‘Search me,’ said Fred, ‘I ain’t got it, copper.’
‘Don’t be silly’ – Trixie was getting irritated again – ‘You’ve got to tell us.’
‘You work i’ ou’,’ said Fred provocatively as he gathered up his ash bucket. ‘I’m goin’ to empty vis, and you three smart girls’ll ’ave an answer ’afore I gets back.’
Novice Ruth and Sister Bernadette entered at that moment.
‘An answer to what, Fred?’
‘Vem girls’ll tell yer. They’re workin’ it ou’.’
While the Sisters attended to their supper, we told them the conundrum. Novice Ruth was a thoughtful girl, and she paused, knife in hand. ‘But that’s crazy,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t work. Where’s Cynthia, by the way?’
‘She’s not in yet.’
‘Well she should be by now, if she had only her evening visits to do.’
‘She must have been delayed.’
‘I suppose so. This is delicious bread. Mrs B does have a magic touch when it comes to bread. The secret’s in the kneading, I think. Knowing just when to stop.’
Trixie had got out pencil and paper.
‘We’ve got to work this out. A shilling can’t vanish.’
She started writing down figures, but it got her nowhere, and she began to get cross again. Then she had a bright idea. ‘Let’s use matches instead of shillings.’ She took the box from the gas stove and emptied it out. ‘We three will be the three men, and Novice Ruth can be the dishonest waiter, and you, Sister Bernadette, can be the cashier.’
She pushed a pile of matches towards Chummy and me.
‘Now you, Novice Ruth, you’re the waiter – put a tea towel over your arm. Come up to us with the bill, that bit of paper will do, and ask us for thirty shillings.’
Novice Ruth joined in with the spirit of things. We each counted out ten matches and gave them to her, and she collected them up.
Sister Bernadette had made herself a sandwich and was watching us quizzically.
‘Now you’re the cashier, Sister. Go and sit over there.’
Sister Bernadette gave Trixie an old-fashioned look and moved her chair to the end of the table.
‘No. That’s not far enough – go and sit by the sink.’
Sister picked up her sandwich and moved her chair to the sink.
‘Now,’ said the stage director, ‘waiter, you must take the bill and the money to the cashier.’
The waiter did as she was told.
‘Cashier, you must add up the bill and find it is wrong, and say to the waiter ... go on, say it ...’
Sister Bernadette said, ‘This is wrong. The bill comes to twenty-five shillings, not thirty. Here is five shillings change. Give it to the men,’ and she handed five matches to Novice Ruth.
‘Good,’ said the director condescendingly, ‘very good.’
Trixie turned to Novice Ruth.
‘Now what do you do, waiter?’
‘I see the chance to earn a bit on the side,’ said the pious novice slyly as she tucked two matches into her pocket.
‘Yes, that’s correct. Proceed.’
Novice Ruth returned to the table and gave us three matches. We each took one.
‘Good show,’ cried Chummy. ‘I’ve only paid nine shillings for my meal.’
‘And so have I,’ I said. ‘What have you paid, Trix?’
‘Well, I’ve paid nine shillings. I must have done, because, because ... oh dear, that’s where it all goes pear-shaped,’ cried Trixie in real anguish, because usually she had an answer for everything. ‘Three nines are twenty-seven and ... look, we must have gone wrong somewhere. Let’s start again.’
Once more we shook out a random pile of matches. ‘You be the dishonest waiter again, Novice Ruth.’
At that moment Sister Julienne entered.
‘What on earth are you doing with all those matches? And what did I hear about Novice Ruth being a dishonest waiter?
As Novice Mistress of Nonnatus House I cannot approve of that,’ she said, laughing.
We sorted out the second lot of matches and told her Fred’s riddle.
‘Oh, that old chestnut! Fred comes out with that one for all the girls. He’s just doing it to stir you up. No one’s worked it out yet, so I doubt if you will be able to. I came here to see Cynthia. Has she gone upstairs?’
‘She’s not in yet.’
‘Not in! Well where is she? It’s nearly nine o’clock. She should have finished her evening visits by six thirty or seven at the latest. Where is she?’
We didn’t know, and suddenly we felt guilty. We had been stuffing our faces and worrying over a silly old riddle, when really we should have been worrying over the fact that Cynthia was not with us, time was passing, and no one knew where she was.
Fred had come back into the kitchen and heard this last bit of conversation. He went over to the stove as we all looked anxiously at one another. His voice was reassuring.
‘Don’t choo worry, Sister. She’ll be safe as ’ouses. Somefinks made ’er late, but she won’t ’ave come to no ’arm, you’ll see. You know ve old Cockney sayin’, “A nurse is safe among us.” Nuffink will ’appen to ’er. She’ll turn up.’
Novice Ruth spoke. ‘I think it’s very likely that she was delayed at the Jessops, Sister. The baby is a fortnight old, and Mrs Jessop went for Churching today. The women always have a party afterwards, and I expect Cynthia was invited to join them.’
Sister Julienne looked somewhat relieved but nonetheless said, ‘I feel sure you are right, but the bell for compline will sound any minute now, and it would ease my mind if you, Nurse Lee, would cycle round to Mrs Jessop’s whilst we are saying our evening office.’
It was only a ten minute ride to the Jessops, and on the way I thought about this curious business of Churching. I had never heard of it before my stay at Nonnatus House. My grandmother, mother and aunts had never gone in for it, as far as I was aware, but many of the Poplar ladies would not go out after a child was born until they had been properly ‘Churched’ by the vicar. Perhaps it was a service of thanksgiving for a new baby, or more likely thanks for having survived the ordeal of childbirth, dating back to a time when giving birth was frequently attended by death. It occurred to me, though, that the origins of Churching could be even more ancient, stemming from the times when women were considered to be unclean after childbirth and needed to be ritually cleansed. As with many other pagan rituals the Church had merely adopted the practice and incorporated it into the liturgy.
There certainly was a party going on at the Jessop household – screams of female laughter could be heard all the way down the street (men were excluded from these occasions), and it took me some time to make myself heard. When the door finally opened I was all but dragged in and a glass was forced into my hand. I had to extricate myself and make my enquiry. Cynthia was not there. She had visited at 6.30 but, in spite of being pressed to stay, she had left at 6.45.
The Sisters were leaving the chapel after Compline as I arrived back at Nonnatus House. Normally this is the time of the Greater Silence, which is the monastic observance of quiet until after the Eucharist the following morning. But there would be no Silence that evening. Sister Julienne immediately rang the police, but no accident had been reported, and a nurse had not requested help for any other reason. She then instructed each of us, including three nuns, to go out on our bikes searching the streets. She marked out which areas, relating to the addresses of Cynthia’s evening visits we were to search, on a plan and instructed us to enquire at each house what time Cynthia had arrived and left. Sister Evangelina, who was well over sixty, and had had a long working day, got her bike out and doggedly pedalled against the wind, searching for the missing girl. Fred, who couldn’t ride a bike, went out on foot to search the streets nearest to Nonnatus House. Only Sister Julienne remained behind, along with Sister Monica Joan, because the House could not be left empty. We were a midwifery practice, and someone had to be on call at all times.