How her heart lifted when she saw him striding across the grounds to say Mass the following Sunday. The Monsignor was feeling poorly and Armand was taking his place. But once in the small chapel, with the Reverend Mother, her fellow Sisters, and the lay congregation, she felt a strange disquiet. Armand was about to say Mass and she would have to take communion from him. It seemed so hypocritical to pretend she was devout and demure when she was neither. Keelin knew she couldn’t do it.

‘I feel a little dizzy. I have to leave,’ she murmured to the nun beside her, who stood up to let her pass. As discreetly as possible she walked quietly down the side aisle as everyone stood to welcome Armand to the altar.

For form’s sake she should go to the infirmary, she supposed, and wait for Sister Frances. Reverend Mother would want to know why Keelin wasn’t at Mass.

‘I think I have a migraine coming on, may I go to my room and lie down for an hour?’ she said dolefully. The nun took Keelin’s pulse.

‘Racing a bit. Show me your tongue,’ Francis ordered. She was a wiry little Scottish woman who had worked in Africa all her life.

‘It’s only a dizzy headache, Sister. A cool cloth and a dark room will help.’

‘If it doesn’t clear, come back to me. And drink plenty of water,’ her colleague instructed, and Keelin hurried along the arched corridor and crossed the courtyard to where her room was. She could hear the singing in the chapel and tears came to her eyes.

*

By Friday of the next week, Keelin still hadn’t seen Armand. The Monsignor had recovered enough to say their daily Mass and Keelin went about her duties heavy-hearted, wondering had she dreamed the encounter in the cove. She was angry with Armand that he wouldn’t make an effort to see her. Perhaps he was rethinking what had happened. Maybe he was overpowered by guilt.

She was sitting on the steps, reading aloud to her pupils as usual, when she saw him walk across the lawn with the Reverend Mother. He glanced in her direction and he seemed to be shaking his arms as if they were caught in his surplice and then she realized he was giving her a subtle sign. Swimming, that was it; Armand wanted to meet her at the cove. She nodded her head but barely glanced at him. Reverend Mother Germaine was as sharp as a tack.

The day seemed to go on forever but she put on her best façade while inwardly sizzling with impatience. She made herself lie on her bed after lights out, so thankful that in this convent she didn’t have to share or sleep in a dormitory.