Intrusion: A Novel by Mary McCluskey Page A

without anyone being at fault. Kat knew that better than anyone. But Sven’s accident had caused speculation. He did not usually drink, but he had been very drunk that day. His alcohol level, when tested at the hospital, was phenomenally high. The doctors were surprised that he had managed to get himself home, though nobody knew how.
    “What can I say?” Sarah began. “I had no idea he would—”
    Kat shook her head.
    “Stop it,” said Kat. “Please. I don’t want to talk about this, Sarah. Not now.”
    Sarah, nodding, looked relieved.
    “You ever go back to St. Theresa’s?” she asked.
    “No. Never.”
    “I set up a scholarship fund, you know,” Sarah said. “For girls who want to go to university to study business, or economics. A different option. Balance out all those ridiculous funds for teachers and nuns.”
    “That must have been a first for them,” Kat said. “A scholarship for business majors.”
    “Yes, it was. I tried to set up a fund for working-class girls to attend the school, but Sister Judy claims that things are rather different now. There’s still the academic scholarship test, of course. The one you passed.”
    Kat remembered the three-hour test, the interview in front of a committee of middle-class governors. She could still visualize the chairwoman: a terrifying woman with shaded equine teeth.
    “And do you get many applicants for your college fund?”
    “Oh yes. I get to choose the winning ones each year. It’s fun. Like playing God. They give me a short list and I pick the winners. I choose the ones with a bit of a spark in their school histories. None of those Legion of Mary virgins. Though Sister Judy may have sussed me. Wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t throw in a bit of smoking behind the gym just to get me to choose her favorite.”
    “It’s good that you’re doing this, Sarah. Really.”
    “Fun to see the old names come up. The daughters of our old friends and enemies. Oh, remember Bunty Kelly? Face like a glazed ham?”
    Kat did. Head girl for one term, and a bully.
    “Yes. You had a fight with her over something.”
    “Monstrous girl accused me of stealing her St. Bernadette medal. Remember that?”
    “I remember the day in the showers when she accused you of taking it,” Kat said.
    “Well, I fixed her,” Sarah said with grim pleasure. “Recently.”
    “Fixed her? Just because of a false accusation?”
    Sarah looked up. Her eyes were dancing.
    “False? Who said anything about false?”
    “So you did steal the medal?”
    “Of course I did. She left it there in her locker, right on top of a prayer book, and the locker door wide-open. So prissy. Fake faith. So, yes. I took it. Just to annoy her. But the fact is, she never saw me take it. No one did. There was no one in the gym at the time. So she made that accusation in public, with all my friends listening, when she had no evidence at all !”
    “So—what did you do to her?”
    “Her daughter applied for a scholarship. Perfect candidate. Bunty had been grooming her for years, apparently. I turned her down.”
    “You turned her down?” Kat asked. “Because of Bunty? But why should the daughter suffer?”
    “It’s the parents who suffer,” Sarah said. “When they don’t get the funds. Let Big Bully Bunty pay for the girl. Anyway, it entertains me a bit. I’m involved in a Catholic adoption charity, too. That’s rather fun.”
    Sarah, noting Kat’s startled expression, laughed.
    “Now, that did surprise you, didn’t it? As an alternative to a termination. Well, you know why. You were there. Remember?”
    Kat, after a small tremble of shock, gulped at her wine. She recalled the tall Georgian building on a Brighton terrace, the ground-floor clinic, and Aunt Helen’s annoyance. Sarah did not want to go through with the termination but had given in finally, demanding that Kat come, too, for support. Nobody else knew about it. Sarah and Kat were both fifteen years old. Kat had waited in a wide