Free The Convent: A Novel by Panos Karnezis

afternoon, when the other sisters were in the garden and the Mother Superior read in the library, she stole away to her room, wound up the gramophone and pushed a sock down its horn to reduce the volume. Then she sang along to the music, not too loudly but with great emotion, while keeping her eye on the door: if the Mother Superior knew, she would have punished her severely.
    As she rocked the baby in her arms and sang quietly, the child looked at her with curious eyes. She sang about death, love and betrayal: a world of horrors. Her face, pale from the lack of sun and the strict diet, was not the face of a singer. Still rocking the baby in her arms, she gazed out of the window at the earthen road that twisted and turned through the pine trees and went out of sight down the hill. High in the sky, a few storks glided silently. She touched the baby’s forehead with the tip of her fingers and paced the room, the wooden floor creaking under her feet.
    She had never been alone in the Mother Superior’s room before, and while singing she looked round her with curiosity. When she opened the wardrobe, the smell of mothballs made her sneeze. There were only a few dusty clothes and the boots that the Mother Superior wore when she went into the forest to collect wood. Then she saw the old suitcase in which the baby had been found and could not resist having a look inside. She pulled it out and, holding her breath, opened it, but the suitcase hid no secret, and she put it back. On the bed was a pile of bed sheets smelling of lavender: it was where the baby slept. Sister Teresa studied the portrait of the man in uniform about whom the sisters knew nothing. The baby opened his mouth and made a little sound. ‘Sh,’ the nun said. ‘Let’s see what other secrets besides you the world hides.’
    She walked on, rocking the baby in her arms and humming a tune. She bent down and read the paperwork on the Mother Superior’s desk, but it was nothing interesting: just bills and letters to women who wanted to join the convent. She opened a drawer and peeked inside: a stamp with a wooden handle, a few pencils, a penknife. Then, carelessly, she shut the drawer with a slam that scared the child. Immediately he began to cry. Sister Teresa gave him a terrified look. She said: ‘Stop, little angel. You will land us in trouble.’
    The child continued to cry. ‘Please hush. Hush now,’ she said and began to sing. The baby did not stop. ‘Oh Mother of God,’ the nun said.
    She looked at the door with hope, but Sister Carlota was not coming. ‘Oh, be a good boy and stop crying. Or we will both fall from grace.’
    She walked up and down the room, with the baby in her arms. ‘Sh. Oh, why now? You were such an angel…’
    The baby was still crying and his face was turning red. There were tears in his eyes, and she wiped them on the cuff of her habit, saying, ‘There, there.’ She rocked the baby faster, looking at the door. She considered whether she should go to get Sister Carlota. She could not take the child with her: the Mother Superior might hear the crying. She was rocking him so nervously that all of a sudden she felt him slipping off her. She caught him–but he had been scared again and was now crying louder. ‘Oh, hush, please,’ she said. ‘Why are you crying, sweet thing?’ She rocked him, repeating, ‘Oh, oh, oh.’
    She walked to the windows and pointed out. ‘Oh, oh, oh. Look at the little birds.’
    She sang to him again, raising her voice above the cries, so that when the door opened behind her she did not hear it. A voice said: ‘What is happening here?’ She gave a start and quickly turned round. The Mother Superior was staring at her. Sister Lucía was with her.
    ‘I don’t know why he’s crying,’ Sister Teresa said and handed the baby over. ‘He was so quiet a moment ago.’
    Sister María Inés pushed back the cloth that covered the baby’s head and searched it for bruises. She said: ‘Tell the