with your mama, I have some sweets in the back if you’d like…’
I’d gone back to the window, listening to Charlotte talk to the little girl. Two nuns dressed in heavy black and white habits stood outside the train station, about to walk inside. There was a small convent in Vichy, but an even bigger one in Lyon, which was several kilometres away, I thought.
Nobody would find me in Lyon—at a convent.
I bolted out of Charlotte’s shop. I heard her calling for me, ‘Adèle… Adèle… your bouquet…’ But I had gotten into Papa’s car anyway and drove off.
‘Mavis, I don’t…’ I looked at her helplessly, trying to think up something to tell her that wasn’t the truth when Claire plopped down next to me, her knees jittering as if she had drunk too much coffee. ‘Are you all right, Claire?’
‘This is yours,’ she said, holding a journal out for me to take. ‘They must have gotten switched when we mopped the floor earlier.’ Mavis had gone back to her Bible, which I was glad about; I didn’t want to answer any more of her questions.
I flipped through the pages of the journal I had in my lap, expecting to see the notes I’d been making about how Catholics behaved, but Claire was right; our journals had been switched, and we exchanged.
‘You’re quite the drawer,’ she said, pointing to a diagram I had drawn on how to hold a rosary.
I folded my arms around my journal, pushing it into my chest. ‘Thanks,’ I said, closing my eyes so she wouldn’t say anything else about my drawings and notes. I rested my head against the stone column, trying to send her a message to leave me alone, but she piped up again.
‘Could you believe that old woman in the square?’ she said. ‘And what about Marguerite?’
‘Marguerite?’ I sat up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Her electric eyes. Hideous… just hideous!’
‘Shh,’ I said, patting Claire on the knee. ‘That isn’t nice.’ As much as I agreed with her, I shuddered to think about the reprimand I’d receive if I was caught talking badly about a postulant.
Mavis studied her Bible, either pretending not to have heard Claire say mean things about Marguerite or completely ignoring it.
‘I think she wants to put you on a stake and set you on fire.’
My mouth gaped open. Claire was seventeen—I didn’t expect her to act as old as me, certainly, but she did talk with a sort of unfiltered naïveté that made me wonder about her upbringing. Mavis heard Claire this time, pulling her eyes away from her Bible.
‘She hates you!’ Claire said.
Mavis shook her head. ‘No, Claire. That’s not true.’
‘Did you see the look she gave Adèle?’ Claire said to Mavis, but then turned to me. ‘We all saw it. You have to tell us… all of us are wondering.’ She smiled deviously. ‘What did you do?’
Mavis looked lost and worried, the way her eyebrows bent in the middle like broken arrows and her pupils dilated like an owl’s. I couldn’t have her thinking I wasn’t a good fit for the convent. I had to protect myself and squash any kind of rumours the girls might have already been discussing. I sat up tall.
‘We got stuck on a hot train together, and it had an emergency stop. Résistance, you know. They made our journey here a nightmare. I think she might blame me a little for her discomfort because I had a cigarette and she’s sensitive to the smoke.’
Mavis listened with a drawn mouth, and then sighed in relief as if she had wondered what I had done to Marguerite and was glad to hear it wasn’t too serious.
Claire’s eyes narrowed and I had the distinct feeling she believed I was holding back. Last thing I needed was for Marguerite to cause me trouble, get me sent back to Vichy—she’d already noticed I had hid from the police. I couldn’t let that happen. Not now, especially not after what I saw in the crypt. I should have answered her in the square and then apologized again just to get her off my back. Now I was afraid I’d made things worse.
‘A postulant’s arrival to the convent—any convent—is a momentous occasion,’ I said. ‘I’m sure with some time Marguerite will soften. I owe her a proper apology.’ Perhaps from my knees. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
Mavis looked relived. ‘Maybe when we do our crafts this afternoon?’
Crafts. Craft time was always so busy. I certainly didn’t want to apologize with so many