From her position at the end of the aisle, Carla could see the stone table that had once been an altar. In the darkness beyond she could barely make out the shape of a solitary figure standing motionless, arms outstretched in front. She could see no detail of who this was but somehow she knew it was a woman and the coldness in her heart made her afraid once again. Inside her head she could hear a voice, commanding her to walk and so she obeyed. She had the choice to refuse but the thought never entered her mind as she placed one foot in front of the other, taking slow, careful steps over the uneven stone floor, her heels clicking and the white cloak dragging behind her, revealing her nakedness. The eleven sisters followed behind, whispering words that Carla could not understand until she reached the stone steps. She ascended them, one, two, three, then stood obediently in front of the mystery woman. No words were exchanged but as she raised her head and drew back the black hood from. After she was gone. But I know these cases. Chances are good I’ll go before she does. She might outlive us all as strong willed as she is underneath it all. And it’s burning a hole in my remembrances. I think and worry about it nearly every day. I’ve been so afraid I would mislay it or forget ever to give it to you or something. Truth of the matter is that she’s mostly gone now anyway, the poor woman. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll give it over now. You can do what you want with it.’ ‘A record? How strange,’ Ally said, turning the jacket from one side to the other, trying to focus on it. ‘It’s a 33 1/3 recording of violin concertos. How odd. I don’t remember my mother being particularly taken with the violin. She seemed to prefer the cello, like Angela used to play. They don’t seem to be notable works. The only one here that I think I’ve even heard of is this Edward Elgar piece. The ‘Violin Concerto in B Minor, Opus 61.’ Performed by the National Symphony, though, under August Donáti..
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