The Good Sisters. Helen Phifer
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Название: The Good Sisters
Автор: Helen Phifer
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Религия: прочее
isbn: 9780008209568
isbn:
‘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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