Free Hide Her Name by Nadine Dorries Page B

four, as he grabbed the talcum powder, opened it and shook it all over himself, filling the room with a grey cloud that smelt of peaches.
    ‘Mammy,’ screeched Kitty down the stairs, ‘Mammy,’ as she chased Malachi round the room to grab back her beautiful white tub of talc.
    Malachi, throwing the cannister down the stairwell, took the stairs two at a time all the way down and burst into the kitchen as Maura tried to intercept him on his way to the back door.
    ‘Malachi, would ye come here now, you little divil, while I slap yer legs, ye horrible child, ye. Leave Kitty alone, do ye hear me, now leave her alone.’ Maura was screeching down the back entry as Malachi was long gone and already sprinting across the green.
    ‘God, that lad will be the death of me,’ she said to Peggy, who was in her own backyard, putting her sheets through the mangle.
    None of the children knew why Kitty was being treated so and Maura couldn’t explain.
    On her return from town Maura had said to Tommy, ‘I’m plain worn out, Tommy. We don’t have to keep filling every minute with things to do because of what happened. We will both be exhausted and broke at this rate.’
    Tommy sighed. ‘But I do, queen. I do.’
    Tommy couldn’t rest in the house. He hadn’t placed a bet on his precious horses or read the Echo . He couldn’t concentrate long enough to read past the first few lines.
    He had to keep busy.
    Daisy Quinn stood at her window that night, watched the lights extinguish in number nineteen and then slipped into her own bed. It had been a long and tiring day and she was exhausted.
    The bishop had arrived as promised and had brought with him all manner of activity to the Priory.
    Daisy couldn’t help thinking that she had never in her life heard the sister talk so much in one day nor with as much agitation as she now did. She had always liked Sister Evangelista, who had been an efficient but kind Reverend Mother.
    Daisy knew what had made the sister mad. It was the photographs in the drawer. Daisy had seen them too, lots of times.
    She was sitting outside the sister’s office, when she heard her on the phone to the bishop, asking him what she should do.
    ‘I have already called the police, of course I have. These pictures are the devil’s own work and surely they must have something to do with his murder. How can they not? Bishop, ye need to get here, fast.’ Daisy heard the sister lower her voice even further as she hissed, ‘They include one of our own children, taken in his office, so help me, God, it is a depraved picture. Ye will not believe it or understand what I am talking about until you see for yourself.’
    Again, there was a long silence before the sister replied.
    ‘Yes, Bishop. I will say nothing to the police until you get here and see the pictures for yeself, but what will I say to the police? I will always protect the Church, Father, yes, Father, I will, Father. I have to speak with you, though, urgently.’ Her voice dropped even further to a rasp. ‘I will send them to the Dohertys’. Daisy says the father spent a lot of time there and I swear, as God is true, the daughter Kitty is pregnant, but I’ll not tell the police that, now, shall I?’
    Daisy heard the sister replace the receiver and let out a big sigh, just as the police car pulled into the drive. Daisy peeped through the door and saw the sister wiping her eyes on her hankie, just as both doors of the police car clicked shut.
    An hour later, when the police had left, Daisy boldly and nervously asked her own question.
    ‘Can I stay here, please, Sister, at the convent?’
    ‘Stay here, Daisy? Are ye mad, girl? The bishop will need somewhere to stay. He has to be looked after. Do you think it would be proper for him to stay at the convent, now?’
    Crestfallen, Daisy looked down at her hands folded in her lap and replied with a voice loaded with sadness, ‘No, Sister.’
    ‘No indeed, Daisy,’ said Sister Evangelista. ‘Now, off ye go