‘Like someone swimming,’ Thérèse said.‘There, Madeleine.’‘Fish jumping, yes?’They both strained their eyes.‘As large as a person,’ Vincent exaggerated.‘There are sharks in the bay.’‘Barracudas under the jetty.’‘Urgh.’ Madeleine squirmed.‘Dolphins in the gulf.’‘And whales.’‘Have you seen them?’‘From the hills once, behind the convent.’They looked out across the dark bay.‘Do you know the story about the nun who drowned herself?’ Vincent began in a storytelling tone.Thérèse was sitting on the bench with her legs curled beneath her. She looked at Vincent. Why was he asking her this? What story was he about to tell her? ‘No.’‘Don’t you talk, you nuns, tell these stories about yourselves?’‘No one’s told me. Why did she drown herself?’‘She was in love with one of the patients.’‘Mon Dieu! Poor girl.’ ‘He used to swim across the bay to be with her.’‘Like Sonny Lal?’‘Like Sonny Lal.’ They echoed each other.‘One night he did not arrive.
