‘We were in the woods,’ Karen said, suddenly remembering. ‘Before she went to the chapel.’ She remembered the moment precisely, plus what Mary had told her that day.

How could she ever have forgotten?

‘What is it, Karen?’

To Karen’s ears, Marge’s voice sounded strange and faraway.

‘Karen. Are you okay?’ Marge’s hand was on her shoulder. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’

‘I remember,’ Karen said. ‘I remember what she said.’

‘What did she say?’ one of the women prompted.

There was a pause before Karen answered.

‘Mary said she shouldn’t be wearing a white dress at all.’ Karen looked round the circle of faces, some eager, some excited, some fearful, some already shocked. ‘She asked me if God would forgive her.’

There was an explosion of sound as the women worked out what that might mean.

Karen suddenly understood what Mary had been trying to tell her, although back then she hadn’t. She’d thought that Mary had committed a sin like not saying the right number of Hail Marys. She didn’t even know what being a virgin meant.

She rose, not wishing to have any more questions asked of her. Talking about Mary like this, even after all these years, seemed like a betrayal of her promise to her friend.

She had to leave, and now.

Karen went through to the kitchen to fetch her jacket. Spotting the diary next to Marge’s things, she put it back in her own bag.

She was out of the church and getting into her car when Marge appeared.

‘Karen, wait! I’m sorry. Don’t go. We won’t ask any more questions. I promise.’

Karen said, ‘There’s something I have to do.’

‘You’ll come back?’

Karen nodded, although she wasn’t sure she would. Maybe it was up to her now. The door in her mind had opened, just a crack, but if she tried hard enough, she might manage to push it open further. Then she might recall all that had happened on that day forty-five years ago.

The drive home passed in a blur. Nothing more came back to her regarding Mary; instead, fleeting memories of other things around that time did. Her father telling her they were flitting. That they could no longer stay in this house. That her mother would always worry that the man who took Mary might come back for her.

The moment when her sister, Eleanor, told her she was getting married and that Karen would be her bridesmaid. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’ll get to wear a white frilly dress after all,’ Eleanor had said.

Just like Mary’s.

Karen remembered screaming at her sister that she didn’t want to wear a white dress like Mary. That she couldn’t, because God would never forgive her either.

31

He makes an impressive figure up there. Rhona could think of very few police officers who might captivate an audience such as former Detective Inspector McCreadie was doing at this moment.

Mary McIntyre was coming to life again as McCreadie told her story. He painted a picture of a little girl living in a different era from the one they were experiencing now.