The Vows of Silence Read Online Free PDF Page B

rehearsals always took place. Tonight, the first of the new season, they were making a start on Bach’s Christmas Oratorio , a favourite of Cat’s.
    “What have you been up to, Helen? How are Tom and Lizzie?”
    “Oh, fine. Actually …” Helen hesitated in the half-open doorway. “There’s something … do you think …” She was confused, not knowing exactly what she wanted to say.
    “Am I a doctor here?”
    “God, no—if I wanted to see you like that I’d come to the surgery. No—look, forget it, let’s find our places.”
    “Helen …”
    But she had gone on into the rehearsal room, crossing to the far side, hurried, embarrassed.
    The Song School filled up, and Cat was greeted with shouts of welcome from right and left. They queued to get their music.
    St Michael’s Singers rehearsals always ended with a drink in the nearby Cross Keys pub, but as Cat made her way along the cobbled lane she noticed that Helen Creedy was slipping off down the snicket that led to the close.
    “Helen, aren’t you coming for a drink?”
    Helen turned. “I ought to get back.”
    “Lizzie and Tom not old enough to put themselves to bed? Come on, live a little.”
    Helen laughed.
    “Live a little.” She squeezed into a space next to Cat on the bench. “Funny you should say that.”
    “You were going to tell me something.”
    “Yes.” Helen took a slow drink of lime and soda. “Idon’t know where to start. I don’t know what I want to say.”
    Cat looked at her closely. “Helen?”
    Helen’s face remained composed but her neck flushed scarlet. A roar of laughter came up from the group of tenors at the bar.
    “You guessed,” she said, “sort of. Only I’m confused, I don’t know what’s happening … I think it’s OK, but I need reassurance maybe.”
    Cat sipped her ginger beer. She had known Helen Creedy for some years as a patient she rarely saw and as a pharmacist she occasionally had to consult by phone. She knew her best in the context of the choir. But she had also seen fourteen-year-old Elizabeth in the first stages of near-fatal meningitis. She remembered it now, walking into the house expecting to see a feverish cold—and summoning the ambulance within three minutes, praying for it to be quick. Lizzie had made a full recovery and Cat had seen little of Helen since, other than on these choir evenings. She was a nice woman, but unconfident and reserved. Not someone Cat felt she was ever likely to know well.
    Now Helen said in a low voice, “I’ve met someone.”
    “Helen, that’s great! How long’s this been going on?”
    “Well, that’s the thing … no time. Just the other night. It isn’t what I expected, Cat. It was Lizzie really—she pushed me into it. She kept telling me I should …”
    “Get out more?”
    Helen smiled.
    “She was right.”
    “If I told you what I did, please don’t laugh.”
    “Wouldn’t dream of it. Does it matter how people meet? I met Chris over a corpse in an anatomy lab.”
    “Can’t compete there. I went to a sort of agency. On the Internet … it’s called peoplemeetingpeople.com.”
    “And you did.”
    “I never expected anything … well, maybe a few new friends.”
    “Was this the first one you followed up?”
    “Yes. It just all clicked. But I feel as if it should have taken much longer, that I should have met half a dozen others first.”
    “That’s like saying you want half a dozen people to look round your house and not make an offer before a buyer comes along.”
    “I never thought of it like that.”
    “Well, you should. I’m pleased, Helen. Friend or more than friend—it’s good.”
    “You don’t think it’s a bit … I mean—doing it this way. I haven’t told anyone else.”
    “Why should you? No one else’s business.”
    “It isn’t, is it?”
    “Are you going to tell me about him?”
    “We’ve only met once. And he phoned just before I came out tonight to ask me out again. We’re going to the theatre tomorrow. It just