Obedience: A Novel
Jacqueline Yallop
Language: English
Pages: 288
ISBN: 0143120670
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Set in contemporary and World War II France, this is the story of Sister Bernard: her forbidden love, her uncertain faith, and her guilt- ridden past.
A once -bustling convent in the South of France is closing, leaving behind three elderly nuns. Forced, for the first time, to confront the community that she betrayed decades ago, Sister Bernard relives her life during the war.
At thirty, Sister Bernard can hear the voice of God-strident, furious, and personal. When a young Nazi soldier, a member of the German occupying forces, asks her to meet him in the church in secret one evening, she agrees. And so begins the horrifying and passionate love affair that will deafen the heavens and define her life, tempting her into duplicity. Obedience is a powerful exploration of one woman's struggle to reconcile her aching need to be loved with her fear of God's wrath.
all these villages,’ said Corinne. ‘There was a lot of support for them; they made good progress. But afterwards, after the ambush… and the information the Germans got. Especially from that poor boy – the things they did to him.’ She looked away for a moment, her face creased. ‘It gave the Germans the upper hand for a while.’ ‘But it’s terrible.’ ‘It made a mess of things, certainly. There was chaos after that – all sorts – recrimination and murder and executions… No one knew what was going on
back fully into the classroom. ‘Yes, Sister,’ she said meekly. ‘These things are for God,’ said Thérèse. But when her pupil had gone, pulling the door softly behind her, Thérèse sat for a long time, drawing dense spirals on her wooden desk with the chalk. There was the sound of young children playing close by, and a tractor at a distance, whirring. The rain continued to be loud, resolute. The thrill of the story had already faded. But the sadness of it, the melancholy of satiation, was a
that the large metal crucifix which habitually hung between Thérèse’s breasts had disappeared. A small cross and chain, perhaps gold, snuggled instead in the dint at the base of her neck. ‘Is it working well, your… arrangement?’ Bernard asked. Thérèse turned from the coffin. Her voice was newly supple. ‘Oh, it is, Sister, it really is. Corinne is such a marvellous cook, for a start. We have such meals! And I’ve signed up for a yoga class – for the spring and…’ She fingered the new chain round
might have felt; he had never seemed to her a disappointed man. She read back through the letter and wondered if this was the sort of thing the nun wanted. She had finished the second cigarette. If there’s anything you want to know, you could write, I suppose, but as I said before, there’s not much to say. I don’t have much to tell. I don’t mind you writing. She tried not to think of the need to smoke. But I don’t want to go on writing for ever. If you put all your questions into one letter
given them my name, and yours. Our details here. In case of problems. I didn’t think it right that she had nobody,’ said Corinne. Thérèse scrubbed hard at the pan. ‘What did they say, exactly?’ ‘Not a great deal. Just that she’s not well. She’s not been eating, apparently, and… well, they said she was depressed,’ said Corinne, still speaking up. ‘Not really sick, then?’ ‘I don’t know. You can never tell on the phone.’ ‘But they said we should visit?’ asked Thérèse. ‘Yes, they said we