‘Not really.’ Caroline hesitated, then fumbled in the pocket of her brown coat which she had hung over the back of her chair. ‘I said that Crystal hasn’t written or phoned since Easter but she sent me this.’
Withdrawing her hand from the coat pocket she opened her palm to show the letter C fashioned in gold and depending from a small loop.
‘A present?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘No. We each of us had one. Dad bought them for us. Hers was gold and mine’s silver.’ Caroline drew it out on the end of its chain from beneath the neck of her sweater.
‘Your sister sent you hers?’
‘In a little package. We had an agreement – one of those arrangements you make in fun, never expecting that anything will come of it. It was a joke really. If you’re ever in deadly danger send me your initial – you know the sort of thing. But even though we were laughing we meant it deep down.’
‘When did you receive this?’
‘That’s the awful thing,’ Caroline said, catching her breath on a little sob. ‘She posted it just after Easter but she didn’t send it to the flat. Perhaps she was worried about Dad seeing it and panicking or something, or perhaps she was not thinking straight herelf. She sent it to the agency where I get temporary work from time to time but they moved premises and the new people didn’t bother to send mail on for ages so I only got it last week.’
‘And you went to the police?’
‘First I had to get Dad into hospital,’ Caroline said. ‘I told him that I might take a few days off and not to worry if I didn’t pop in and see him while he was there, and then I came here. I did go up to the house. It was after dark and Michael Peter was just coming back from somewhere in his car. I guessed it was him from the description Crystal gave us.’
‘He’d probably just run Mrs Rufus home.’
‘The housekeeper? Yes, Crystal mentioned her in one of her letters. Anyway I stood in the shadows and watched him get out of the car. The headlights were still on. He went up the path and opened the front door and switched on a light and then he came back to switch off the headlights and lock the door. He was grinning.’
‘Grinning?’
‘Yes. Not smiling but stretching his mouth. I could see his teeth. I never saw anybody look like that before. It was – anyway I stood where I was and he turned and went up to the house again. I stayed in a local bed and breakfast and the next morning I went to the police.’
‘What did they say?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘I spoke to a detective sergeant. Mill. Tall, dark, rather good-looking.’
‘I know him.’
‘He was very polite but he didn’t take me very seriously,’ Caroline said. ‘He said that people could sometimes go for ages without contacting their relatives and that unless there was some reason to fear for Crystal’s safety I’d nothing to go on.’
‘Did you show him the initial that your sister had sent?’
‘I was going to,’ Caroline said, ‘but he sounded so sensible, so down to earth, that I felt a bit silly about saying anything. Anyway he advised me to call at the house and ask where Crystal was and to go back to him if anything struck me as suspicious.’
‘Did you go to the house?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘I hung around for a bit. I kept out of sight but I’m sure Crystal wasn’t at home. There was a middle-aged woman there, brushing the steps and raking the gravel for a bit, and I saw her passing the windows inside the house later on, but there was no sign of Crystal. It was a nice day and she’d have come out to sit in the garden or take a walk or something surely. She loves flowers.’
‘I can’t understand why you didn’t just ring the front doorbell and ask.’
‘Because I don’t want to put him on his guard,’ Caroline said tensely. ‘If I’d started asking questions of the housekeeper she might’ve mentioned it to him when he came home and then he’d know someone was looking for Crystal. He’d be on his guard, don’t you see?’
‘So you came looking for me?’
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Caroline said. ‘I went to the local cinema and sat there, trying to work out some course of action. There was a film on – a Whoopi Goldberg film about nuns. Have you seen it?’
‘We don’t go to the cinema.’
‘It was a comedy. Anyway I suddenly remembered that article I’d read and I came out and asked someone if the Order of the Daughters of Compassion had a convent anywhere near. They told me it was on the moors, so I walked there.’
‘It’s five miles.’
‘I know. I don’t drive myself and there didn’t seem to be a bus. Anyway I went in the hopes of seeing you but it was dusk when I got there. I said a prayer in your chapel and came away.’
‘And came back twice? You must be a good walker.’
‘I got a lift in from a man driving a van. He had gold hoops in his ears and smelt rather strongly of fish.’
‘That was probably Padraic Lee,’ Sister Joan said. ‘He does rather a lot of fishing.’
‘You were in the convent garden but the other nun was with you,’ Caroline said. ‘I went away again, and then last evening I made up my mind to take the plunge and pluck up the courage to speak to you but when the moment came – you must think me an awful fool!’
‘You slept in the old car last night?’
‘I was so tired,’ Caroline said. ‘I’d walked here and when it didn’t work out, when I turned tail again, it was dark and my legs ached and I’d noticed the building when I passed it before so I decided to stay overnight if I could, but the door was locked so I slept in the old car. I hope it wasn’t trespassing!’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Sister Joan said.
‘Anyway I’ve seen you now,’ Caroline said. ‘I’m sorry to have taken up your time. I’ve been listening to myself rattling on and it all sounds quite impossible, doesn’t it? The police won’t do anything and it was—’
‘They can’t,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Nobody’s been reported missing. Yes, I know that you tried but you didn’t have much to go on. You really should have gone to the house and made preliminary enquiries there.’
‘I thought of that but after I saw Michael Peter’s face – that fixed grin – in the headlights of his car I just couldn’t,’ Caroline said. ‘Sister, I really hoped that you might undertake to do some enquiring on my behalf. I can pay.’
‘I’m not a private detective,’ Sister Joan said in alarm. ‘It just happens that I’ve been able to help the police in their investigations now and then, but I’m a nun. I don’t go round picking up clues and interviewing suspects.’
‘It was rude of me to bother you,’ Caroline said, reaching for her coat and pulling it on. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What will you do now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Caroline gave a sad little shrug. ‘Dad comes out of hospital in a week and he’ll certainly start worrying if we don’t hear from Crystal soon. I can’t stay on in the town. Michael Peter has an antique shop there and I could easily run into him. Crystal took some family photographs with her when she left home and she’s got a very clear one of me which he might recognize if he met me. The truth is that I don’t know what to do!’
‘You could stay here,’ Sister Joan said impulsively.
‘Here?’ Caroline looked round.
‘Brother Cuthbert won’t be back for at least a month,’ Sister Joan said. ‘We were hoping to rent it out cheaply for a few weeks to a birdwatcher or someone. Nobody would disturb you. In fact most people wouldn’t even realize you were here.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Caroline bit her lip and gazed beseechingly.
‘And if you’re worried about supplies I can pick them up for you in town when I do the convent shopping. Where are your things?’
‘I only brought a small bag with me,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s at the bed and breakfast place.’
‘Which is—?’
‘In Station Road. I booked in there because it wasn’t near the centre of town.�
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‘Then why don’t we drive down there in the van? You can pick up your bag, pay the bill and I’ll drive you back again. Look, nobody’s going to notice you particularly. This may be a small town but there are always tourists coming and going, and anyway the housekeeper told me that Michael Peter spends all day in his shop when he’s not off on a buying trip.’
‘You’ve been asking questions about him already?’ The other looked at her in bewilderment.
‘Nothing to do with your visit,’ Sister Joan said, hoping that was true. ‘What do you think about my offer? Mother Dorothy, our prioress, has left it to me to rent out if I can. Say, twenty-five pounds a week? The amenities are a bit primitive.’
‘That’s very cheap! Thank you.’
‘Let’s get in the van then. Don’t mind Alice. She’s very friendly and she loves going for a drive.’
Caroline scurried to the van and sat throughout the three-mile journey into town with her hand carefully shielding her face, emerging at the bed and breakfast establishment to hurry up the steps, emerging five minutes later with a suitcase which she put in the back of the van before taking her place in the passenger seat.
‘I have a few groceries to get,’ Sister Joan said. ‘I’ll park the van in the station car-park and leave you with Alice. Just give me fifteen minutes.’
‘Can you get some for me too?’ Caroline pressed some notes into her hand. ‘Just the basics. I don’t eat very much at the best of times and right now I just feel so anxious!’
‘Coffee, sugar, powdered milk, bread, butter, some fruit, eggs, a packet of kippers, some tins of beans? Right then! Stay here, Alice.’
Driving the van into the car-park out of which a covered underpass reached to the station she alighted, gave Caroline a reassuring smile, and strode off towards the nearest supermarket.
She went briskly round, paid for her purchases, loaded them into the two large string bags she carried, and started back towards the van.
‘Good day, Sister!’
She swung round, the bags bumping against her legs, and stared wordlessly up into the lean face of Michael Peter.
‘I’m on my way to catch a train,’ he said. ‘It’s more pleasant to use public transport in London, don’t you think? May I help you with your shopping?’
‘No, thank you.’ She recovered her wits with an effort. ‘Are you going on business?’
‘There’s an auction at a mews cottage in Chelsea. I thought it might be worth a look. Oh, you’ll be pleased to hear that I had a telephone call from my wife last night.’
‘Oh,’ Sister Joan said blankly.
‘Yes indeed.’ He showed improbably white teeth in a stretched smile. ‘They are on the move, staying at pensions and auberges as far as I can gather. The line wasn’t very good. She has asked for a couple of extra weeks which I agreed to, of course.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Well, I’d better get on. I don’t want to miss my train.’
He raised his hat in a courtly, old-fashioned manner and walked off, carrying with apparent ease his large suitcase.
‘I was getting worried,’ Caroline said, watching her face above the lever of the van window as Sister Joan arrived.
‘I think I got all the groceries,’ Sister Joan said.
There was no point in alarming the young woman by mentioning her meeting with Michael Peter.
Driving back again she asked casually, ‘Will your father expect you to telephone him?’
‘He thinks I’m with my friends, so he won’t expect to hear anything until I get back. That’s why I want to find something out fairly quickly if I can. They’ll finish the present series of tests in about a week and I really don’t like to leave him to cope alone. Since Mum died he’s been rather more dependent on me than he cares to admit.’
‘Which hospital is he in?’ She swung the van on to the moorland track.
‘It’s a private hospital – the Florence Nightingale Heart Foundation in Richmond,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s rather expensive but they get wonderful care. Shall I pay you the twenty-five pounds in advance?’
‘That’ll sweeten Mother Dorothy. Look, I can’t stay to help you settle in, but I’ll be over first thing in the morning. The electricity isn’t connected but there are oil lamps. Can you manage them?’
‘I’m sure I can. You’re being very kind.’
‘Well, here’s the key then. Can you manage your bag and the groceries? Try to rest and not fret too much. God bless!’
Her cheerful expression faded slightly as, having helped Caroline to alight, she waved her hand and drove on. According to Michael Peter his wife was touring France with her sister, her father and a dead mother, and had telephoned him the previous evening.
According to Caroline Hayes her sister hadn’t been in touch since Easter and had sent at about that time the secret call for help agreed between the sisters.
‘May I make a telephone call, Mother Prioress?’
Having deposited the groceries in the kitchen and scolded Alice for wetting in the back of the van she accosted Mother Dorothy as the latter emerged from her parlour.
‘A very quick one,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘The lecture begins in five minutes.’
‘Thank you, Mother. Oh, I have a short-term tenant for the schoolhouse. A young woman called Caroline Hayes. She’s anxious for a few days’ peace and quiet and she’s paid twenty-five pounds.’
‘That was very quick, Sister! Is she a respectable young woman?’
‘A shorthand typist from London.’
‘Seeking the peace that we in the religious life take for granted. Thank you, Sister.’
Mother Dorothy crossed towards the chapel wing, leaving Sister Joan free to dart into the kitchen corridor where the telephone was positioned on the wall.
‘The Florence Nightingale Heart Foundation.’ Having obtained the number from the operator she rang it and was answered by an official-sounding voice which assured her she was connected to the hospital.
‘I’m enquiring about a Mr Hayes. He’s undergoing tests or treatment at present?’
‘Further treatment for an enlarged heart yes, but he didn’t turn up for his appointment,’ the voice informed her. ‘Apparently family business took him down to Cornwall.’
‘Oh dear, I hadn’t heard—’
‘We were rather anxious about his cancellation,’ the voice confided. ‘His health does give cause for concern. If you ring again in a few days—’
‘Thank you.’
Sister Joan replaced the receiver, thinking of the middle-aged tramp with the shiny shoes who had died of a heart attack in the old chapel. It began to look as if father as well as sister had become anxious about Crystal Peter’s welfare and come into Cornwall to make enquiries. The problem was whether or not to tell Constable Petrie or to wait until Alan Mill returned.
FIVE
‘Are you going into town this morning, Sister?’
Sister Gabrielle came into the kitchen where Sister Joan was helping Sister Marie to scrub some ancient pans.
‘Yes, Sister. We have a short-term tenant for the old schoolhouse while Brother Cuthbert is away and I’m going down to check that she’s settled in comfortably.’
‘I need some aspirin. Sister Perpetua forgot to ask you for it when you last went down into town shopping. Would it be a bother?’
‘No bother,’ Sister Joan said cheerfully.
She was in a buoyant mood this morning, having made her decision, slept well, and spent a couple of hours helping out with the more basic work in the kitchen.
‘You go now, Sister. I can finish off the rest,’ Sister Marie said helpfully.
Sister Joan rinsed her hands, received several other small commissions from some of the other sisters, and went out to the van, leaving Alice to whine after her in Sister Marie’s grasp.
The little schoolhouse seemed deserted. For a moment she wondered if Caroline had lost her nerve again and stolen away in the night but, as she climb
ed down from the van, the door opened and the young woman appeared on the threshold, her lank hair neatly plaited at each side of her thin face, the unremarkable sweater and skirt carefully brushed.
‘Good morning, Sister. I slept very soundly,’ she greeted her.
‘So did I. I brought some extra blankets for you. It can get chilly at night and Brother Cuthbert doesn’t feel the cold. I’m going on into town so if there’s anything you need I can drop it off on my way back. Mother Dorothy was very pleased that we’d found a temporary tenant by the way.’
‘You’re being very kind.’ Caroline took the two thick blankets and went indoors.
Sister Joan’s cheerful mood darkened a little. Not so kind, she reflected, when so far she had given no hint to the other that the father she believed to be in hospital had been buried in an unmarked grave. When she’d talked to Constable Petrie she would probably have the unpleasant duty of breaking the news to her.
‘I just brewed a cup of tea. Have you time for one?’
‘Not for me,’ Sister Joan said, ‘but I’ll watch you drink it if you like. Have you made up your mind exactly what you plan to do?’
‘Not really.’ Caroline frowned, biting her lip. ‘I can take walks near the house, I suppose, while Michael Peter’s at work. I honestly don’t know, Sister. I just have this feeling that I ought to be on the spot for a bit.’
‘In case your sister comes back?’
‘Oh, I wish she could just knock at the door right this minute and send all my fears flying!’ Caroline said with sudden intensity. ‘She has a habit of popping in when she isn’t expected. Dad used to say she was like a will o’ the wisp, but since she got married he doesn’t talk about her so often. I think he was hurt not to be invited to the wedding or asked to meet her husband.’
‘You sound like a very close family,’ Sister Joan said.
‘Yes.’ Caroline spoke softly, her face wistful. ‘We sort of stuck together you know. London isn’t a very neighbourly place and Mum was rather a shy person. She found it hard to make friends there.’
‘You’re not from London originally?’
‘No, we were born in Marsden Close. It’s a little village in Nottinghamshire, just a road and a post office and a general store, three churches and six pubs!’ Caroline said. ‘We lived there until we were almost ready to transfer to the senior school. Then Dad decided that it might be more profitable to move to the City. He was a bank clerk then but after Mum died we found out his heart condition was much worse than we’d imagined and he took early retirement with a disability pension. I have to find out what’s been going on within the next week or so. He’ll be frantic if he comes out of hospital and finds that I’m gone still.’
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