Ten minutes later, to the second, Germaine knocked peremptorily on the door. Keelin picked up her suitcase and with her head held high marched past her Reverend Mother. Because it was the Christmas holidays, the usual hustle and bustle was absent. No children in classrooms. No patients in the small clinic on the compound. The convent was silent; none of her colleagues walking hither and yon as they normally would on a busy weekday. She heard laughter from the common room where some of the Sisters were relaxing. She would miss the friends she’d made, and she’d miss her beloved pupils. A lump rose in her throat but she swallowed it down. She wouldn’t let Germaine see her distress. She had some pride.

The young Ivoirian driver was waiting on the wide front step and he took her case and put it in the boot of the car. ‘Drive directly to the convent with Soeur Michael, please, Ismael,’ Germaine instructed. ‘I’ve left instructions that you be fed and rested before you make your return journey. I will see you anon.’ She glanced at Keelin, ‘You have let your God, your Order, me, our community, your pupils and yourself down.’

‘And you don’t have one ounce of Christian charity, and that is your shame!’ Keelin retorted and felt some satisfaction when she saw the nun flush crimson with anger.

Ismael’s jaw dropped, his brown eyes darting from one to the other. He couldn’t believe a nun had just cheeked Mère Germaine. Keelin walked around to the passenger side of the car, got in and stared straight ahead. When they drove through the wrought-iron gates, she never looked back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

‘You cannot stay here in Paris for the remainder of your pregnancy. You understand that we have a duty to our postulants and novices. You would be a bad example to them, Soeur Michael,’ Mother General Perpetua said in her soft voice that was, nevertheless, steely firm.

‘Where can I go?’ Keelin asked wearily. She was exhausted after the long, bumpy flight from Abidjan.

‘I’m arranging for you to be sent to a mother-and-baby home in Cork. They will also arrange for the adoption of your baby. As you have not taken final vows, you will be leaving our Order. Your family will have to assume responsibility for you.’ The Mother General looked at her appraisingly. ‘I’m sure you would like to rest after your journey. You will be taken to guest quarters; please remain there. Your meals will be brought to you and you will be collected for your flight home tomorrow, when the arrangements are made.’

‘I’m not to contaminate the community with direct contact, is that it?’ Keelin said bitterly.

‘Something like that, yes, if you wish me to be blunt.’ The nun did not dodge the question.

‘I’d like to make a phone call to my parents and my Aunt Brigid, please,’ Keelin said firmly.