Strange Adventure. Sara Craven

to marshall her whirling thoughts into reasoned arguments that would convince Reverend Mother of her sincerity, but no words would come and the only sound in the hushed room was the steady tick of the small clock that stood on Reverend Mother’s desk.

      At last, it was Reverend Mother who spoke. ‘Many people have a mistaken idea of what it is to be a nun. They see it as a refuge—an escape from the pressure that life in the world imposes. But they are wrong, Lacey, and you too will be wrong if you are looking for a sanctuary, as I suspect.’

      Lacey looked at her tormentedly. ‘Oh, Reverend Mother, everything is such a mess!’

      ‘But running away will solve nothing, my dear child. Even if I believed you had a genuine vocation, I would be very reluctant to accept you at present. One thing that we do require of our novices is peace of mind, and you are too confused at the moment to know what it is you truly want. I feel you should do as your stepmother asks and go home with her.’

      ‘But she doesn’t really want me,’ Lacey burst out.

      ‘How can you know that? Would she have come if that was the case? Besides, there is your father to consider.’ Reverend Mother seemed oddly to hesitate for a moment. ‘Perhaps he may need you, ma chère. Have you considered that?’

      Lacey was unhappily silent. Reverend Mother rose, tall in her dark robes, and came round the desk, laying a hand almost in blessing on the girl’s head.

      ‘Go home, my child,’ she advised quietly. ‘Find out what life may have in store for you, and if you still feel it is not enough after a year or two, and that your place is here, then you can write to me.’

      Lacey looked at her steadily. ‘But you don’t believe I will, do you, Reverend Mother?’

      ‘No, my dear. I have an instinct in these things and it tells me that your future lies outside these walls. Now I must see about your packing before your stepmother loses her patience entirely. Shall I ask Vanessa to help you?’

      ‘Please, Reverend Mother.’ Lacey’s voice was subdued. ‘I didn’t know whether I would be able to say goodbye to her.’

      ‘But why not? You are not leaving the convent under a cloud, my dear, and we shall all miss you and pray for you. Now come along.’

      Lacey had already emptied her clothes cupboard on to the bed by the time Vanessa arrived.

      ‘So it’s true,’ she observed, as she bounced into the room. ‘Cheer up, flower. You look shattered. I’d be turning cartwheels if my people sent for me!’

      ‘I’ll be all right.’ Lacey summoned up a wan smile. ‘It’s all been rather a shock, that’s all.’

      Vanessa’s shrewd eyes went over her friend as she began folding the clothes and packing them neatly and economically into the open cases.

      ‘I don’t want to interfere, Lacey, but is everything—quite all right at home?’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ Lacey smoothing sweaters into a polythene bag looked at her in surprise. ‘Why do you ask?’

      ‘Oh,’ Vanessa shrugged rather vaguely, ‘there’ve been odd rumours in the newspaper lately, that’s all.’

      Lacey rarely bothered to glance at the supply of English papers delivered daily to the convent for the pupils, but she knew Vanessa was an avid reader.

      ‘What sort of rumours?’

      ‘Just hints that all might not be well with Vernon–Carey—among others, of course.’

      Lacey gave a little perplexed frown. ‘Well, Daddy hasn’t mentioned anything in his letters, and he seemed quite cheerful when I was home at Christmas. What did the papers say?’

      Vanessa folded some tissue paper around a dress with rather exaggerated care.

      ‘I can’t really remember. Nothing specific, of course. Just an impression, really.’

      ‘Just vile innuendoes, you mean,’ Lacey said heatedly. ‘Some of these financial journalists are the limit! They’re quite capable of starting trouble for a company just to get a story.’

      ‘This wasn’t the gutter press,’ Vanessa said slowly, ‘or I might have agreed with you. But I daresay it is just a rumour. Things are tough for everyone these days.’

      They worked for a few moments in silence and Lacey thought over what had just been said with a growing feeling of unease. She recalled the strangeness in Reverend Mother’s voice when she had said that her father might need her. Was there trouble brewing for Vernon–Carey of which she was the only one in ignorance? She made up her mind to ask Michelle about it at the earliest convenient opportunity.

      After a pause, Vanessa began to chat of everyday things—of the senior pupils’ concert that Lacey would now miss, of whether she would continue her musical studies at Kings Winston and how she would otherwise fill her day.

      ‘Perhaps they’ll have a change of heart when you get home and let you train for something,’ she suggested cheerfully. ‘Or you could help Fran Trevor with the stables, perhaps. You’ve always got on well with her, haven’t you?’

      ‘Oh yes,’ Lacey agreed abstractedly. It occurred to her that if she was living at home for good, she would probably be thrust more into the limited social life around Kings Winston and would be seeing more of Alan as well, but the thought didn’t generate any enthusiasm.

      ‘And you will write, won’t you, Lacey?’ Vanessa persisted. There was a glint of tears in her blue eyes as she stared at her friend. ‘I—I shall miss you, you know.’

      Lacey shook off her brooding mood and smiled warmly at her.

      ‘Of course I will, Van. And better than that, I’ll ask Michelle if you can come and stay at Kings Winston for Easter.’

      She could see no real reason for Michelle to refuse and the thought gave her a touch of optimism as she carried her cases downstairs to the entrance hall where Michelle waited, her foot tapping impatiently on the parquet floor.

      The driver of the hired limousine stowed the baggage away in the boot while Lacey made her round of goodbyes to the Sisters and girls. Reverend Mother was last, accompanying them out on to the steps, ignoring the chill of the wind that made Michelle pull up the collar on her fur coat.

      ‘Goodbye, ma petite.’ Reverend Mother traced a firm sign of the cross on Lacey’s forehead. ‘Think of us sometimes, and never be afraid of the richness of life.’

      Lacey’s eyes were hot and blurred with tears as she walked down the shallow flight of steps and got into the back of the big car where Michelle was already waiting. She looked back once as the car turned slowly down the winding drive between the bare branches of the trees, registering like someone in a dream the tall, solid building and the tiny group of black-clad figures waving from the doorway, then the car rounded a bend and they were gone.

      She sank back into the soft upholstery feeling utterly bereft. Beside her Michelle was fishing in her handbag for the inevitable cigarette and clicking her lighter irritably.

      ‘What an age you made me wait!’ she exclaimed. ‘We will have to abandon any notion of an afternoon plane and fly back tomorrow instead. It will not be such a bad thing anyway. Perhaps we will do some shopping in Paris,’ she added with a disparaging sideways look at Lacey’s neat grey flannel coat and plain dark shoes.

      ‘But I’ve got plenty of clothes,’ Lacey protested.

      ‘For a schoolgirl, yes,’ Michelle gestured dismissively. ‘But now you are a woman, ma chère, and you must learn to dress yourself accordingly. Your hair must be styled too.’

      ‘Oh, no.’ Lacey clutched protectively at a strand of her rain-straight silvery fair hair and Michelle looked grudging.

      ‘Well, perhaps not,’ she conceded. ‘It has a certain—charm, I suppose, comme ça. And you