A Journal of Sin Read Online Free Page B

shouldn’t have done it and rightly repents, but carries a lot of guilt for the theft of 98 pence. A sin is a sin, I suppose.’
    ‘A priest and a poet,’ he said. ‘A sin is a sin indeed. I bet you’d let someone off 98p, right?’
    ‘Depends on the kid. You think these are confessional notes? Things people have told him in confidence? There’s little detail, but this one’s clearly a theft, that one maybe some sort of sexual offence. Seems an odd thing to keep a record of.’
    ‘It’s supposed to be confidential. Listen, dole out the penance and forget about it. Either way, it looks like he has, and has been doing so for years.’ John crouched down and started reading through the books.
    ‘Those are evidence. You can’t touch them.’ He kept reading. ‘John. Put it back, they’re coming with me.’
    ‘Evidence of what?’
    ‘It’s likely they were looking for these. Put it down.’
    ‘I might be in one.’ She reached for it, but he pulled it away. ‘Look, look here. She wants to leave him for someone else. She’d already found another man; some people have no shame!’ His words quickened towards the end as Sarah took the book from him. ‘Give it back.’ He reached for it, but thought better of snatching it from her. She held it up in front of her.
    ‘This is mine. It’s coming with me, like the others.’
    ‘That was about Jenny and if there’s more in there, I have a right to see them.’
    ‘The words in these books are private. They should never have been written down. No one has any right to them at all.’
    ‘Yet you’re taking them? And you’ll read them?’
    ‘They may be evidential.’
    ‘But the people they’re about can’t see them?’
    ‘You picked up a book at random; that passage could be about anyone.’
    ‘Fine.’ His tearful eyes looked at the books as she put them into a pile on the table.
    ‘Listen, you take a minute to rest up. I’m going to find a Bible and look up those passages that were in his bedside drawer. He kept them close, so they may have more significance. The context may give a clue to as to what.’ She saw him looking at the books. ‘I’ll be taking those with me.’ She put the books into the rucksack from Father Michael’s room and carried them downstairs.
    She placed the bag at the bottom of the stairs and crept into the church. It was empty, but she still felt a need to be quiet. It was larger than it looked from the outside. The stained glass cast vibrant, multi-coloured light onto two rows of wooden pews. The grey stone walls were lined with brass candle holders. She didn’t genuflect as she passed the altar, but the thought to do so crossed her mind. The ritual actions for all the ceremonies had been drummed into her as a child and even now she could recount all the prayers, despite not having uttered one in years. Mark wasn’t religious either and they’d decided to raise the girls without faith. Without faith. At least that’s what her mother called it. Religion had a way of cornering certain words and keeping them only for their followers; faith was certainly one of those. People could have faith in many things: themselves, their work, their chosen life path; maybe religious institutions had monopolised it because believing in a religion took a greater leap of faith than any of these other things. The suggestion the twins were ‘without faith’ was absurd and insulting, but she kept these ideas to herself so as not to rock the family boat. They were taught religious education in school, and although most of it really didn’t interest Sophie, Ellie had asked a few questions. Sarah had told her everyone had different ideas about where we come from and how to live, and that all she had to do was think about and question everything she heard. This was all before boys came on the scene. She dreaded those questions and dreaded even more that, again, Sophie probably would just do as she pleased with little request for maternal