Free Vow of Chastity by Veronica Black Page A

enjoyment.’
    ‘There’s a repeat on Saturday,’ Mrs Holt said. ‘Tim’ll watch it though while I show you how I make the dish.’
    Timothy, with a muttered apology, slid thankfully from the table and bolted into an alcove where a large television set was enthroned rather like a monarch on his throne.
    Sister Joan, setting her empty cup back in its saucer, looked up to meet Mr Holt’s steady regard.
    ‘We’ve a new calf, Sister Joan, if you’ve a mind to see.’ He spoke gruffly, giving a little jerk of his head towards the door.
    ‘Well I don’t – yes, I should like to see it very much,’ Sister Joan said, impelled to acceptance by something unspoken at the back of his mild grey eyes. They walked across the darkening yard towards the barn, he pausing to take a lantern from a hook on the wall as they reached the barn.
    ‘Animals prefer the softer light. I find they give richer milk if they’re not always in glare.’
    He lit it neatly with his big, calloused hands and they passed on into a high, vaulted place with the smell of milk, and straw and the unmistakable smell of birth.
    ‘Dropped her calf two nights since. Nice little thing. I’ve a fondness for small creatures – why I’ve held out against factory methods, I suppose. Not that I’m sentimental , and there’s nothing like a good steak but at least give the creatures the chance to see a bit of sky first, eh, Sister?’
    ‘I’m sure you’re right, Mr Holt.’ Sister Joan moved to the rail of the stall and looked at the long-legged, large-headed baby, now suckling contentedly. The mother turned a larger head, curiosity in the brown eyes, but seeing or smelling the human she knew lost interest.
    ‘She’m a good old maid,’ Mr Holt said, dropping the standard English he had been speaking for a moment, as he leaned to scratch the cow’s rump. ‘Why did you really come here this evening, Sister?’
    ‘To talk about the project,’ Sister Joan said. ‘You know, being a nun it is often difficult for me to get out to meet the parents of my pupils as often as I’d like. I hope you don’t –’
    ‘Mind you coming? Glad of it. Never had any particular faith myself but the wife sets store by her church and I’d no objection to having Tim reared in the same faith. Point is, Sister, I know that prayer you said before we ate and there’s nothing in it about keeping folks safe. I thought as how you were hinting that you wanted a private word, like.’
    ‘No, honestly, I wasn’t. I don’t know why I put that in,’ Sister Joan said, feeling suddenly foolish. ‘It was an impulse.’
    ‘A good one I’m thinking.’ Mr Holt drew back from the cow and frowned down at his smaller companion. ‘I thought as how you might have picked up the scent that’s been in my nostrils these past weeks.’
    ‘Scent?’
    ‘Evil,’ said Mr Holt flatly and smote his hand lightly against the rail to emphasize his point. ‘That’s an unfashionable word, isn’t it? Well, I’m not a clever bloke – all I know’s farming, but I know evil too. It’s around, Sister. I can smell it on the wind, but I can’t tell you where it is or the way it’s coming. I can only tell you that it is coming. I’ve no enemies that I know, but evil takes no count of that. And I tell you frankly, Sister, that if anything harmed the wife or my lad –’
    ‘Mr Holt?’ She stared at the big, clenching hands.
    ‘I’d kill,’ he said with a terrible simplicity. ‘I’d kill, Sister. Shall we go in?’
    Lifting up the lantern again he stood aside politely to let her pass out of the barn.

Five
    ‘You added something to the Grace this evening,’ Sister Margaret remarked when they were back in the car. ‘A very kind thought, Sister. It’s clear they dote on that boy.’
    She turned to wave to the trio standing at the door as they drove away. The recipe for stargazy pie reposed in her bag and her face was irradiated with quiet content. Not for one second had Sister Margaret