The Good Sisters

Agnes had managed almost her whole life without a man to take care of her, but tonight it was what she needed, what they all needed. A strong male presence might be enough to deter Lilith from whatever her plans were; she just hoped that Patrick would see through the woman’s sob story. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced Lilith wasn’t who she seemed. The woman scared her, but Agnes wouldn’t let her see that. She wasn’t stupid.

Dressed in a warm jumper and slacks, she went downstairs to find Edith and see if she wanted to come and pray with her. After checking the kitchen, front room, library and dining room she finally found her huddled by the fire in the parlour, her head bent close to Lilith’s. They were talking in hushed tones and didn’t notice her walk into the room. She coughed and Edith jumped away from Lilith as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

‘Sister Edith, I think you and I should go to the prayer room and pray for Sister Mary’s soul.’

Edith stood up, her cheeks burning. ‘Of course, Mother Superior.’

Edith scurried out of the room, but not before turning to look at Lilith and smile. Agnes felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end. What had they been whispering about and why the secrecy? If Agnes wasn’t wrong, Edith’s cheeks were flushed as if she’d been caught doing something forbidden. Agnes led the way to the prayer room and opened the door for Edith, who darted inside.

‘Is everything okay, Edith? You looked a little perturbed back there when I walked in. Is there anything you would like to tell me?’

‘Yes, Agnes; no, I mean. Everything’s fine. We were just discussing Lilith’s ex-husband. We didn’t want to upset you any further than you already are. He’s a terrible man – so violent and so sadistic towards poor Lilith. I can’t believe she’s not dead because of him.’

‘You do know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? I might look old and past it, but I did have a relatively normal life until it kicked me to the gutter and I turned to God. I’m not just a frail, old maid.’

‘Of course I do, Agnes, and I don’t think that at all. Thank you. I will if I need to.’

But Agnes couldn’t push it out of her mind. Edith was the most impressionable of them all, and she wanted to know what that woman had been whispering to her about – more than ever.

***

Edith could feel her cheeks burning because Lilith had been talking about sex – something that she could never in a million years discuss with Agnes. Something that she’d never discussed with anyone. Lilith led such an exciting life. She had been telling Edith how it felt to kiss another woman and Edith had been enthralled. It had made her skin tingle just thinking about it. The whole reason she had joined the convent was because of her fascination with women.

Of course, she’d never acted on her feelings. Her parents would never have forgiven her if she had. She would love to know how it felt to kiss and do immoral things with another woman. She had pretty much managed to stop thinking about it the last twelve months, but Lilith had stirred something in her tonight and she had a warm, tingly feeling between her legs. She wondered what it would be like if Lilith – with her small, slender hands and long, red painted nails – was to touch her between there.

‘Edith.’

Edith jumped and looked to see Agnes’s outstretched hand. She couldn’t concentrate. This was terrible. She tried to think about poor Mary and her body, which had been ripped into pieces, but she couldn’t get past the thought of Lilith’s small, perfectly formed mouth. How would it would feel just once to press her lips against it and push her tongue inside?

‘Sorry, I just can’t concentrate. I feel so bad about poor Mary and I can’t settle.’

‘Very well, you can go and do what you like. Maybe you should go to bed, have an early night. I’ll pray for us both and Mary.’

‘Thank you, Mother Superior, I think I’ll do just that.’

Edith turned to leave and as her fingers reached the doorknob, Agnes turned to look at her.

‘Oh, and Edith… I wouldn’t get too close to Lilith. I don’t trust her and I don’t know why she’s still here. Surely she has family or friends she can go and stay with? Has she mentioned anyone to you?’

Edith shook her head. She couldn’t tell Agnes what she’d been thinking. That she wanted to do nothing more than get close to Lilith. Her cheeks flamed bright red at the thought and she rushed from the room. Her head down, she ran up the stairs and along the hall to the very last door at the end of the long corridor where her bedroom and sanctuary was. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Breathless, she opened the door and slammed it shut, then turned the key in the lock.

She gasped as she turned around to see Lilith lying on her bed, completely naked. Edith wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Instead she crossed the room, shedding her own clothes until she was as naked as Lilith, who patted the empty side of the bed next to her. Edith climbed in. Her last thought before she touched Lilith’s pale, white skin was God forgive me for being weak. I’m so sorry.

***

Agnes prayed long and hard. She heard the front door slam as Patrick came in, but still carried on praying. Edith was acting strange. She had no idea where that woman was – probably in her room, or so Agnes hoped. It seemed that everyone had taken to meek and mild Lilith and fallen under her spell, except for her. Agnes felt repulsion fill her entire body every time she looked at her.

When she finally finished she stood up and kissed the cross around her neck, then she went to the kitchen where she found Patrick removing the emergency bottle of brandy from the back of the cupboard. She sat down, crossing her hands on her lap. He put the bottle and two glasses down onto the table. She watched as he poured both himself and her a drink. She liked Patrick. He didn’t expect anyone to wait on him hand and foot like the last vicar who’d rarely made the effort to visit the nuns. When he’d finished he sat down and smiled at her.

‘Agnes, can I be frank with you?’

She nodded.

‘You look tired; today has been a very long day. How are you?’

She thought about saying the usual: ‘Oh I’m fine, Father. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow,’ only she couldn’t. Her shoulders felt so heavy with the physical weight of sorrow for Mary that she didn’t know where to start. Her eyes were stinging with unshed tears that were threatening to spill: tears of sorrow, pain and loss. Not to mention horror at what had happened.

‘The truth, Patrick, is I don’t know. I feel as if something has changed in this house and I know I sound like a crazy old woman, but I’m not. I’m still the same as I was before I went to bed last night. I haven’t lost my mind even though I feel as if I have. Something is wrong. I can feel it in the air and I know how ridiculous I sound because I have no idea what it is or what to do.’

‘What do you mean something has changed in the house?’

She leant in close to him. ‘The atmosphere, can you not feel it?’

He shook his head. Agnes felt a wave of anger wash over her. This was no good. He didn’t see or feel anything wrong. She could. It felt to her as if the house had come alive, as if it were some giant, slumbering beast that had slowly woken up after a very long time. If she strained her ears she was convinced she could hear its heartbeat, very faint, but it was there: a steady thud, thud, thud, which seemed to reverberate throughout the entire house.

‘Today has been a very long one. We’ve all had a huge shock. What happened to Mary? Well, I have no idea, God rest her soul. I’m sure he’s taken her into his arms and she’s at peace now. I think perhaps you should take yourself to bed and get some rest, Agnes. I’m here. I’ll sleep in the lounge. Don’t worry, I’ll listen out and if you need anything then shout and I’ll be there.’

‘Yes, Father, thank you.’

She pushed her brandy away. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach made it churn at the thought of drinking any more of the sweet liquid. As she stood, she saw Mary’s reflection staring back at her from the kitchen window. Her head hung limply to one side and her arm was missing. Blood was dripping from her mouth and the front of her nightdress was covered in the bright red liquid.

The room began to swim and Agnes heard the sound of a chair being scraped back against the parquet floor. A strong pair of arms caught hold of her before she fell to the ground. Patrick scooped her up and carried her upstairs to her bedroom as if she were no heavier than a feather. He laid her on the bed and stepped back.

‘Agnes, should I phone for the doctor?’

‘No, thank you; I think you’re right, Patrick. I’m very tired and I haven’t eaten much today. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.’

She watched him leave, closing the door behind him. As soon as her legs felt strong enough to carry her weight she would lock it, then drag her heavy chest of drawers across to put in front of it. What good that would do was beyond her, but it would make her feel better. A voice whispered in her ear: It didn’t help poor Mary, did it? She’s still here, stuck in this house with nowhere to go. Agnes could no longer keep her eyes open and she closed them, sinking down into a deep sleep. So deep that she didn’t make it off the bed to lock her door.

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