Act of Faith Read Online Free PDF Page B

shouted farewell, a kiss, and then … this.
     
    On the fifth day, Fra Clement came.
    The nuns roused me from my stupid staring and escorted me into a reception room where a tall man in a black cassock sat waiting.
    He rose, put out a hand and greeted me in accented English — the first I’d heard since my father’s farewell.
    ‘My child,’ he said kindly as we sat stiffly on two wooden chairs facing each other, ‘I am so sorry for your loss — as are we all.’
    I sniffed.
    ‘Your dear father had many correspondents in the city. We were all eager to meet him.’
    I said nothing. Instead, I gazed about me, at the clean-scrubbed stone floor, the empty fireplace, the whitewashed walls. The nuns had given me a dark woollen shift to wear, and a linen blouse that scratched against my skin.
    This is all I have now.
    ‘Are you quite recovered from your fever?’ he asked.
    I jumped; I’d almost forgotten he was there.
    ‘Yes, thank you.’
    His voice dropped into a practised pastoral tone. ‘We shall have to consider your future here.’
    I stared at him. ‘Excuse me, sir, but who are you?’
    ‘Didn’t the Sister announce me?’ he asked.
    ‘She told me your name, and I know it well from your letters,’ I said. ‘But …’
    ‘I am an unofficial consul here in Amsterdam — I represent His Holiness.’
    ‘You know the Pope?’
    He smiled. ‘Not personally.’
    ‘Forgive me, sir, but why should you have any regard for my future?’
    ‘You are not alone in the world, Mistress Hawkins, although it may feel that way. As you know, I have corresponded with your father for many years — we never met, but I considered him a friend.’
    ‘I remember,’ I said, my voice rather more hoarse than I intended it to be. ‘He was looking forward to meeting you, and his other colleagues in Amsterdam.’
    ‘Of whom there are many,’ said Fra Clement. ‘Please believe that we are your friends, too, and together we will find shelter for you.’
    ‘Can’t I stay here?’ I asked. ‘I just need somewhere to sleep.’
    Fra Clement sighed. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. The Sisters run a hospice, but they cannot care for healthy young women who are not part of their order. So, unless you wish to become a nun …’
    ‘I suppose I might have to,’ I said, although it had never occurred to me before that moment. ‘Unfortunately, I’m not Catholic.’
    He laughed. ‘Nor are the Sisters. Nobody with any sense is now, or they risk the wrath of the City Fathers. The Dutch States are similar to England, although at least they do not execute priests here. But Catholicism is illegal — a topic on which your father held strong views.’
    ‘Don’t read too much into that,’ I said. ‘My father defends everyone, of every faith, on principle. Except himself.’
    ‘He defended liberty in all its forms.’
    So my father was now in the past tense. Not for me. Not yet.
    Fra Clement went on. ‘I believe I am the only Catholic officially left in Amsterdam, and I’m not even sure about that sometimes. They let me stay because I am a harmless old fool, besotted with books and too preoccupied to bother anyone.’
    I looked at him closely for the first time — he didn’t appear to be either old or a fool. He was a dark, dander-flecked man, with surprisingly small hands like the claws of sparrows. Everything about him was thin: his nose and face, his greying hair. Thin lips, too.
    I sniffed again. Loudly. ‘You are very kind, sir, but I don’t wish to burden you. Is there an almshouse, perhaps?’
    In my sorrow, I hadn’t wondered what might happen to me next. The horror of the shipwreck, and my father’s sacrifice, were all that my mind could contain. There had been no room for the future in my thoughts.
    ‘I trust it won’t come to that,’ said Fra Clement.
    ‘I have nothing — no possessions, no money,’ I said. ‘It was all on the ship.’
    ‘You have your mind.’
    ‘Oh, that.’ I smiled, for the first