Sister Ellie’s expression was compassionate as Kate’s confession settled. But there, beneath the glow of the hanging light, was a flicker of something else in Sister Ellie’s gaze, something that bore an embarrassingly close resemblance to pity. Behind them, the fridge hummed. “I hope you have somebody, Kate,” she said, her voice catching. “Maybe somebody on the mainland who feels the way you do. Somebody who loves you.”

The words set a lump in Kate’s throat. Sister Ellie wasn’t trying to embarrass her, of course not. Still, hyperawareness spiked, washed dread down Kate’s back. Was that how she seemed to everybody else? Unfulfilled? Lonely?

Sister Ellie leaned forward. “Kate? Promise me that you won’t tell Tilly? The Reverend Mother said I mustn’t betray the vicar’s confidence.”

Anger sparked in Kate. How dare Sister Ruth aid his manipulation. Couldn’t she see that what he was doing was wrong? Not only was he manipulating Tilly, but he had placed Sister Ellie in a terrible position. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me,” Kate rasped.

“The Reverend Mother said the very same thing.”

Kate looked up. Their eyes locked. “If Tilly has expressed any reservations about getting married,” Sister Ellie murmured, “any at all…then maybe somebody needs to make it clear to her, before she makes a mistake, that her concerns are valid.” She hesitated. “I think, Kate, that somebody best be you.”

Chapter Nine

The next weekend, Tilly took it upon herself to ensure that charity—quite literally—began at home.

Holed up in her office marking all day, Kate’s Saturday had been long and lonely. Driving all the way out to Dandenong to see her family had seemed a pointless prospect—she’d only be up to her eyeballs in essays there, and five-year-old Karlie would certainly be a distraction. A loud, boisterous distraction. St. Joan’s served silence on a silver platter—too large a helping, in retrospect. Tilly had left early that morning to spend the day on the mainland with Declan at a carnival fundraiser, and as far as company, Kate had only briefly spoken to Sister Ruth around lunchtime. So when Tilly knocked on the door of Kate’s office at seven that night with a bowl of steaming stir-fry, Kate was more than glad to see her.

“Ms. York, I come bearing gifts.”

Kate’s gaze snapped up and she squinted against the onslaught of light as Tilly pulled the chain switch. Night had fallen so quickly that she hadn’t realised the brightness of the computer screen had been placing such a strain on her eyes. “Til, I didn’t know you were back.”

“About an hour and a half ago…”

Kate glanced at the window. The lights of Mornington were like fireflies in the distance. “I didn’t even hear the ferry come in.”

Tilly gestured to place the bowl down beside textbooks and Kate quickly shifted her mess of papers to make room. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said as Tilly lifted the tea towel from the top of the bowl.

Tilly shrugged. “I was hungry too.”