“That would be tremendously helpful—if I could read it,” said Jean.

She was already wondering how feasible it would have been for Gretchen to have been impregnated by a visiting boiler repairman.

“You’re being very mysterious,” said Alice. “I hope you aren’t going to tell me something has happened to Gretchen.”

“Oh no, Gretchen is alive and well.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it.”

“And the mother of a little girl, who was apparently conceived during her stay at St. Cecilia’s.”

Alice Halfyard’s hands flew up to her throat, coming to rest on her gold crucifix. “No! That’s impossible. Who on earth would have told you such a story?”

“Well, Gretchen herself, and she was as dumbstruck as you. She is adamant that the child was a virgin birth.”

In Alice’s pale face Jean thought she could identify the transit of emotions—shock, disbelief, dismay. It was a moment or two before she was able to find her voice again.

“I don’t know what to say. It can’t be.” She shook her head. “That child was as innocent as a lamb. She wouldn’t have known one end of a man from another. Not that there were any men around the place. The nuns would never have allowed it. I would never have allowed it.”

“What about doctors? Surely some of them must have been men?”

“Doctor Reardon was a lady doctor, and a very good one. And Gretchen was on a ward with three other girls—one with the rheumatoid, what was her name? Martha. And Brenda—they didn’t like her so much—and poor Kitty in the iron lung. The girls were never alone for one minute. They couldn’t sneeze without one of the nuns knowing about it.”

“What about visitors? Fathers, brothers, odd-job men?”

“We didn’t have an odd-job man. We had nuns, and very practical they were, too. The families used to visit on Saturday afternoons. Most of the patients lived some distance away, so the parents only came once a week. There was no opportunity for the girls to be alone with a visitor—they were all in the ward together. And the sister was in there too, making sure things were kept calm and quiet for the patients.”

“Did Gretchen have any male visitors?”

“No—just her mother. They were very close.”

“So in your professional opinion, it would have been impossible for this child of Gretchen’s to be conceived in the ordinary way?”

“Quite impossible,” said Alice firmly.

Of course you would say that, thought Jean, who had still to decide how she rated Alice as a witness. She seemed an intelligent woman, but those dolls weighed heavily in the balance. She was never going to admit that it was perfectly feasible for a sick and vulnerable young girl to have gotten pregnant while under her care, but a really unscrupulous person would be looking for an alternative version that deflected blame elsewhere. Jean decided to test her.

“The obvious explanation is that Gretchen is lying and was already pregnant when she was admitted and has somehow falsified the dates.”