It had begun to rain again and the strong wind was lashing the rain against the window panes, but through it Catherine heard the sound again, louder and more regular: a rhythmic clanging. She paused on the half landing, wiping away the condensation from the window to look out. The narrow window looked out over the side of the building, and through the driving rain Catherine saw that the wrought-iron gate leading out of the kitchen gardens was open and swinging back and forth in the wind. The latch was an old one and had probably worked loose in the buffeting winds. It would keep banging against the garden wall all night like this, and there were a couple of patients on this side of the convent who were suffering fairly bad pain. Dr Innes had given morphine to one of them. It would be better if both of them could sleep as much as possible. It would not take a minute to slip outside and close the gate.
There was no sign of Sister Miriam, but the side door, which was usually methodically bolted with all the others, was unbolted. Surely Sister Miriam had not gone outside in this storm? But whatever she had done, the gate had better be closed. When Catherine stepped outside the coldness of the night wind made her gasp and the rain came at her like driving knives. She ran across to the gate, and was just pushing it firmly back into place when a darting movement made her turn sharply. Someone there? Catherine stood very still, scanning the darkness, wishing the wind was not quite so wild. She was just deciding the movement had been her imagination, when she glimpsed a figure like a dark shadow going between the thick bushes.
Sister Miriam.
For a moment Catherine could not think what to do. If she went back into the convent to get help, Sister Miriam would have vanished into the darkness and anything might happen to her. Catherine had no idea where Miriam was going, but she could at least go a little way after her to find out. She wrapped her cardigan round herself and went after the cloaked figure.
Her hair was flattened to her head in minutes and her thin house shoes were soaked through before she had gone a dozen paces. Sister Miriam was some way ahead, and wherever she was going it looked as if she was trying not to be seen. She was keeping off the drive, moving through the thick bushes that fringed it towards the main gates. Catherine hesitated, then saw Miriam turn left. Could she be going to the village? But it was a four-mile walk and it was ten o’clock at night. The only other place leading off this road was Fenn House. Theo! thought Catherine, remembering how someone had broken in and attacked him, and how he had told her to be careful because people were not always what they seemed. Had he meant Miriam? She glanced back at the comforting outline of St Luke’s, trying to decide whether she should go back and get help. But that would take too long. If Sister Miriam really had attacked Theo two days ago for some mad, unfathomable reason, it might be too late.
Trying to ignore the lashing rain, Catherine went after her, keeping well to the shadows of the high hedges so she would not be seen. In this weather she certainly would not be heard. And if Sister Miriam really was going to Fenn House, Catherine could surely bang on the door and shout a warning to Theo.
As Mara went along the lane towards the turning to Fenn House, she had the strong feeling that something waited for her there. Was it the lost child Charmery had talked about that afternoon? The rusalka, trapped for ever in the cloudy river? Or was it Charmery herself?
Unmask the sin, Mara, they had said in Jilava. Let it into the light, see it for the evil it is, confront it and be absolved. Be absolved. Tonight Charmery was saying the same thing. Did Charmery want Mara to join her? Was the child with her – the rusalka? Yes, they were calling to her – they were saying that what she was about to do was right, it was the only way to atone.
Mara began to hurry so as not to keep them waiting.
As Catherine went into the drive, Sister Miriam was already going round the side of the house and down the path. She’s not going into the house at all, she’s going to the river! thought Catherine in sudden panic, and without pausing, she ran the rest of the way to the house. She half fell against the front door, banging hard on the knocker, not waiting for anyone to open it, but shouting above the rain.
‘Theo – it’s me – Catherine! I need help. Sister Miriam’s going towards the river!’
She saw lights come on in the hall, but she was already running along the path after Miriam – along the path she had used all those years ago when Charmery called for help from the boathouse, the night David was born, the night he died. Was Charmery calling now, was that what she was hearing inside the wind and the rain? Don’t be ridiculous, she thought.
Twice she slipped on the wet stones, and she could have sobbed with frustration, but each time she managed to scramble to her feet again and go forward. Behind her she could hear doors opening and voices: Theo’s and a woman’s voice, and another man’s that sounded like Dr Innes. She half turned and shouted to them to follow her, hoping they would hear and see her in the darkness and understand. Theo’s voice called out something, but the wind snatched it away. Catherine could not tell what he had said.
Here was the boathouse, dank and dismal, water dripping everywhere. Catherine stopped in the doorway, trying to see through the thick gloom. On the very edge of the landing stage, was a figure, not moving, just staring down at the black river. She’s going to jump, thought Catherine in horror, and called Sister Miriam’s name.
Miriam turned sharply, and although it was too dark to see her face properly, Catherine was aware of a distortion – of eyes blazing with madness.
Trying to keep her voice gentle and soothing, she said, ‘Sister, what on earth are you doing out here in the rain? Let’s go back to the convent.’
She moved forward, hoping to take Miriam’s arm and pull her back, but Miriam put up a hand in defence.
‘I’m not coming back with you,’ she said, and Catherine heard with horror the spiralling madness in her voice. ‘This is the only thing I can do. I have to pay for what I did, you see.’
‘Sister, you haven’t done anything—’
‘I’m a murderess,’ said Miriam. ‘They said I was all those years ago, when they made me confess.’
‘I don’t understand. But come back with me now…’ She edged nearer, hoping she could take Sister Miriam’s arm and pull her back.
‘I killed her,’ cried Miriam. ‘I killed Charmery Kendal! And now I have to atone.’
Her voice rose in a cry of such pain that Catherine flinched. She went forward, grabbing Miriam’s arm. There was a moment when she thought she had firm hold of her, then she felt her own balance tip and realized Miriam had been about to jump and was taking Catherine with her. She fought for stability but it was already too late. The rain-swept night tilted all round her and the dark and treacherous river came up to meet her.
The icy water hit her like a massive blow and she went under almost immediately, fighting and gasping, trying to strike back to the surface, but her clothes were instantly sodden and even the flimsy shoes were dragging her down. The world became a green choking cloudiness. Catherine gasped helplessly, and felt the water go into her lungs. There was a moment when she thought; I can’t die, not like this, and with the thought she was at the surface again, coughing and retching. Incredibly and blessedly, Theo was there, with Dr Innes behind him, both of them reaching out to her. Catherine felt Theo’s hands, strong and safe, pulling her to the landing stage. Somehow she scrambled up onto the wooden planks, and as she fell against him his arms went round her. There was the feeling of masculinity pressed hard against her and the scent of his hair and skin. Something seemed to explode inside her mind. There was a moment of the purest mental clarity she had ever experienced – as if she was drinking light or being caressed by colour.