One of the children tripped over another and a plate smashed in pieces. There were squawks of dismay and flurries to get the broken pieces off the floor and while Mère’s and everyone else’s attention was elsewhere, she whispered urgently. ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Mon Dieu!’ he uttered, his face turning ashen.

For one awful moment she thought he was going to abandon her and leave her to endure the future alone and then she heard him say, ‘I am with you. We will face this together,’ before someone came to claim his attention.

*

Later, at midnight Mass, she tried not to look at Armand as he concelebrated with the Monsignor. His lean jaw was tight and tense, and she knew he was in turmoil. If only he had been hearing confessions earlier there would have been some time to talk privately, but it had been the Monsignor who had been in the confessional and she’d said nothing about no longer being celibate.

Keelin tried to sing the old familiar hymns but the memories of home that they evoked tugged at her heart and she wondered how her parents would react to the news that she was carrying a child and would be leaving the religious life. Her father would hear the news with stoic acceptance, her mother would be furious. Imelda would take a long time to forgive this transgression, Keelin knew.

*

The morning after Christmas Day she excused herself from breakfast and narrowly made it to the toilet in time to be sick. Afterwards she leaned her head against the cool marble tiles and waited for her stomach to settle. She splashed water on her face, dried it and opened the bathroom door to find Reverend Mother Germaine outside. ‘Please follow me to my office,’ she instructed coldly and swept ahead of Keelin, who followed with an enormous sense of dread.

‘Sit please.’ The Reverend Mother pointed imperiously to a wicker chair in front of her desk. Keelin did as she was bid. The other nun remained standing, staring at her with cold, hooded grey eyes.

‘Are you pregnant, Soeur? Is this the reason for your morning sickness, pallor and lack of appetite?’

Keelin’s heart thumped. She could deny it, but what was the point?

‘Yes,’ she said calmly. ‘I wish to leave the Order and renounce the veil.’

‘Who is the father?’ the Reverend Mother asked grimly.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I demand to know!’ Germaine’s eyes were flashing with anger at being spoken to with such a lack of respect.

Keelin stood up. ‘Reverend Mother, with respect, that is my business, not yours.’