There was no note

But they did look. Everyone had looked in Mother's room. Including Sergeant O'Connor in case there were any clues that she had gone away. There had been all kinds of questions. How many suitcases were there? Were any of them missing? What had Mother been wearing?

Only a jacket, not an overcoat, not a raincoat. And the drawers were opened as well as the wardrobe. Were any clothes missing? Kit felt very proud that everything was so tidy, so neat.

She felt that maybe Sergeant O'Connor would tell his wife that Mrs McMahon had beautiful sprigs of lavender in the drawers of nightdresses and slips.

That her shoes were all polished and neat in a line under her dresses in the old wardrobe. That the brushes on the dressing table had silver handles matching the mirror. And most of all she was pleased that she had done what her mother would have wanted.

Yes, surely it was what Mother would have wanted. There was hardly any time to think, but from time to time Kit stole into her own room and try and work it out. Was it possible that Mother, who always knew what she was doing, wanted that letter found? Should she have read it? Suppose there had been a last wish in it.

But then it had not been addressed to her and if there were something for Daddy …

Kit felt young and frightened. But she knew she must have done the right thing. She had burned the note. Now when they found Mother's body it could be buried in the right place, and they could all go and put flowers on the grave.

There were divers in the lake, men who wore suits of rubber. Kit had not been allowed to go down and watch but Clio told her. Clio was being very nice. Kit couldn't remember why she ever got annoyed with her.

"They want you to come up and stay with me." Clio said over and over.

"I know and it's nice of you all, but… Daddy, you know. I don't like to leave Daddy alone." Clio understood. "Would it help or be worse if I were to stay here?" she asked. "It would be different, and we're trying to make things feel a bit the same, I think."

Clio nodded in agreement. "Can I do anything? I'd do anything to help."

"I know you would." And Kit did know. "Well, think then."

"Tell me what people say, tell me if there are things they wouldn't say in front of us … "

"Anything, even if it's not what you want to hear?"

"Yes."

So Clio brought her all the gossip of Lough Glass, and Kit got a picture of the investigation. People had been asked if they had seen Mrs McMahon on the bus or at the train station, in the nearby town, out in the road looking for a lift, or in anyone else's car. The guards were ruling out the possibility of her having left the town alive and well.

"Wouldn't it be great if she had just lost her memory?" Clio said. "If she were found in Dublin and didn't know who she was."

"Yes." Kit said flatly. She knew this would not happen. She knew that Mother had not left Lough Glass that night.

Because Mother had written a note to say why she was taking her own life. "It could have been an accident." Clio said, trying to put the minority view. All Lough Glass was saying it had been coming for a long time. The poor woman was unbalanced, there was no way she would have taken the boat out on a night like that except to end her life.

"Of course it was an accident." Kit said, eyes blazing. When Mother's body was found it would be buried properly thanks to the good work Kit had done in thinking fast. It must always be considered an accident.

Mother must never become a name like Birdie Daly, a ghost to frighten children, a voice calling in the reeds. "If she's in heaven, she could see us now." Clio said, looking at the ceiling. "Of course she's in heaven." Kit said, putting aside the fear that sometimes bubbled up to the surface that Mother might be in hell, suffering the torture of the damned for all eternity.

The callers to the house were legion. Everyone in Lough Glass had something to offer: a word of comfort or hope, a special prayer or a story of someone who was missing for three weeks and had been found.

Sister Madeleine didn't call. But she never went visiting people. After a week, Kit went down the lane to the hermit's cottage. For the first time she went with no gift. "You knew her, Sister Madeleine … why did she do it?"

"I suppose she thought she knew how to manage a boat … " To the hermit it was simple.

"But we never take the boat out alone. She never did before … "

" She must have wanted to that night. It was a very beautiful night. The clouds kept racing across the moon like smoke from a fire. I stood at the window and watched for a long time .. "

"You didn't see Mother?"

"No child, I saw nobody."

"She wouldn't be in hell, Sister Madeleine, would she?"

The nun put down the toasting fork and looked at Kit in amazement. "You can't mean that you seriously think that for a moment?" she said. "Well, it's a sin against Hope, isn't it? It's despair, the one sin that can't be forgiven."

"Where did you hear that?"

"At school, I suppose. And at Mass, and at the retreat." Kit was trying to draw up some kind of reinforcement. "You heard nothing of the sort. But what makes you think that your poor mother took her own life?"

"She must have, Sister, she must have. She was so unhappy."

"We're all unhappy, everyone's a bit unhappy."

"No, but she really was, you don't know … " Now Sister Madeleine was firm. "I do know. I know a lot. Your mother would not have done such a thing."

"But .. "

"No buts, Kit. Please believe me, I know people. And suppose, just suppose, your mother did feel that there was no point in going on, I know as sure as we are both sitting here that she would have left a note to tell your father and you and your brother what had happened to make her feel this was, and to ask your forgiveness … "

There was a silence. "And there was no note." Sister Madeleine said. The silence between them was stifling. Kit was tempted to speak. Sister Madeleine would not tell, she would advise what to do. But it would be the end of everything if she told. Kit said nothing. Sister Madeleine said it again.

"Since there was no note, then there was no way that your mother took her own life. Believe me, Kit, and sleep peacefully in your bed tonight."

"Yes, Sister Madeleine." said Kit, with a pain in her chest that she felt would be there for ever.