Leonie was finding it hard to concentrate. She was supposed to be writing her weekly letter home, something all the students were required to do.

"I’m sure they open them and read them," Mai said. "So don’t bother telling them about the starvation and the beatings and the daily torture sessions."

"Mai!" Figgy protested. "It’s really not that bad."

"If you don’t call Hess’s law and Born-Haber cycles a form of severe torture, then I don’t know what is," Mai said. She had been wrestling with her chemistry homework for the past hour. Leonie and Figgy had enjoyed a much easier time of it writing about Caravaggio’s use of light for a History of Art assignment. They shared notes, and the hardest thing was making their two essays different enough.

Leonie had earlier blitzed through her Maths with thanks to Harry, who seemed to have the mind of a genius when it came to trigonometry.

Now Leonie was writing her letter but all she could think of were a pair of piercing blue eyes and that sudden smile.

"Dear Mom and Dad,

"I’ve settled in here and have some great roommates. Classes are going okay. I got a role in the school play. Hoping you’re all well and missing you, Leonie."

That was all she could manage. What else was there to say?

Mai was peering over her shoulder. "'The greatest roommates ever' I think you mean. And what’s with 'a role in the school play'? You got the starring role. You should be shouting about it. Won’t they be proud?"

Leonie figured it was time to confide in them. "They’re not happy about my plans to do theatre. They want me to get a law degree or an MBA or whatever."

"Is that why they’ve sent you here?" Figgy asked.

"Kind of." It wasn’t, but Leonie didn’t want to get into all that now. "My mom thinks it's too risky a career. Too uncertain."

Harry put her pen down. "She’s right. It is. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile trying. Someone has to succeed at it."

Harry didn’t speak often so when she did, it kind of meant more.

"I guess. It makes me doubt myself though. And US college isn’t like what you have here, it’s so much more expensive. If they won’t help pay for it I’ll have to get into huge debt, and then paying that off on a waitress’s salary… you can guess how easy that would be."

Figgy, who had been tidying her drawer, turned to Leonie. "Why don’t you study in the UK then? You could go to RADA or somewhere."

Leonie had never considered this. "You’d have to be British though, wouldn’t you?"

Figgy shrugged. "I don’t see why. Everywhere takes international students."

Mai had an evil smile. "Your only problem might be sharing a room with Suki Laverne. RADA is her dream." She and Figgy left as they had to pick up something from the Biology classroom.

Leonie folded her letter. She felt dejected but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She was still getting the intense dreams at night and wasn’t sleeping well.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked her, her brown eyes looking concerned. Leonie still found it weird that Harry was a Lady, she always seemed so down to earth.

"I guess. Just things on my mind," Leonie told her.

"When I need to clear my head I go to Confession," Harry said.

Leonie was surprised. "Are you super religious, then?"

Harry laughed. "Not at all. It’s just peaceful in there, and someone is listening who can’t breathe a word. The Sacramental Seal has its advantages. They can’t break it even if you confess to murder. Sometimes I’ve confessed things I haven’t done, just for fun."

Her eyes were twinkling wickedly. Leonie was shocked, she might expect this from Mai, but not Lady Harriet: school lacrosse captain and a prefect as well. "Isn’t that going to get you struck by lightning?"

"Not so far. I figure it’s entertainment for them. I don’t confess to actual murder. I once confessed that I stole Mother Benedict’s bra and tied it to a tree. Later that day I saw poor Father Stephen poking around the grounds looking up at all the trees, obviously hoping to find it before it became a scandal."

Despite all the bad things she had done in her life, Leonie couldn’t imagine lying in a confessional. But still, going to confession was an idea. She hadn’t been since she was really young. It might give her some peace of mind.

These things are sent to test us.

Gabriel tried to be rational about it. It wasn’t as though becoming ordained automatically got rid of all physical urges. He still had emotions, he still felt. He imagined Father Stephen did too.

But it was about valuing Heaven more than Earth. About loving God more than pleasure.

He remembered some of the wise words spoken to him during his training. "Even unintended violation of chastity requires opportunity, privacy, and secrecy. It is a wise priest who denies himself these."

There was little privacy or secrecy in a girls’ school, so he had those covered.

Until now it had seemed so easy. He had been so angry about Joanne, so ardently committed to his new vocation. He hadn’t looked or wanted to look at a girl in five years.

Even now, he barely noticed any of them. Just that one girl.

Was it because she was different? Because she was foreign, and seemed somehow isolated?

The image of her came before him when he tried to sleep, when he tried to pray, when he tried to read his bible.

If it were just a sexual thing, a physical impulse, it would have been easier to deal with. But Gabriel found that he actually liked her. He was interested and amused by the things she said in class. Trying to ignore her made it worse. Once or twice he had done so, and he had sensed she was hurt by it.

Denying her attention also singled her out. He couldn’t just cold shoulder her or people would wonder what had happened. That might be even more dangerous.

There was debate in the church as to whether a priest might relieve himself privately. The conservative line was that such a thing was never appropriate. But some of his more pragmatic mentors had suggested to him and the other ordinands that if the smaller lapse helped prevent the greater lapse, God might not eternally condemn them for it.

Lying in his bed that night, Gabriel considered trying it. But the moment he touched himself the image of the girl flooded into his mind. He wouldn’t be able to face her tomorrow if he used her image for that, and he was unable to conjure up any other image.

So he rolled over and tried to recite lines of poetry in his head, bible verses, anything.

It seemed hours before he found solace in sleep.

Gabriel and Father Stephen lived in the small presbytery attached to the chapel, which was separate from the main school building. They usually had lunch in the school dining hall, due to teaching duties, but ate breakfast and supper separately from the sisters and the students.

Father Stephen typically rose before Gabriel and had breakfast underway, with Gabriel reciprocating for the evening meal.

That morning Gabriel needed his coffee very strong and very black. He drank two cups of it before even turning his attention to eggs and toast.

"A restless night?" Father Stephen asked.

"Somewhat," Gabriel admitted.

Father Stephen cast a closer glance at him. "You are troubled, Gabriel?"

Gabriel couldn’t lie to the old man. Stephen was far too astute for that.

"Struggles which I am sure we all have," he said.

Father Stephen spread marmalade over his toast. "Of the faith or of the flesh?" he inquired.

"Both, I suppose."

The older priest smiled. "Consider it a blessing. A reminder of one’s humanity and how we are no different from our flock, though we may separate ourselves from other men. The journey is not supposed to be easy."

Gabriel was certainly discovering that. "Did you ever doubt? That you had made the right choice?"

"Many a time. I am only human. I saw, my heart lusted and loved like any young man. I met a young woman once who made me seriously question the path I had chosen. But eventually I saw that my need for union with the church was greater than my need for an earthly union."

Gabriel was intrigued. "What happened to her?"

"In time she married, had a family, and lived happily ever after. I doubt she was even aware of my feelings for her, or at least the depth of them. Perhaps she wouldn’t have returned them if she had known. It was all for the best."

Father Stephen certainly looked as though he was at peace with his life, munching his toast and contemplating the day’s duties.

He consulted his diary, a small black leather book. "Now I have a meeting with Mother Benedict later this morning. It’s a time when I usually provide confession, so if you wouldn’t mind filling in, it would be much appreciated," he told Gabriel.

"By all means. Do you usually have many attending?" Gabriel asked.

"One or two. I feel it’s important, though, given the enclosed atmosphere of the school, to offer the chance for private confession. The girls are far from their family members whom they might otherwise confide in." Father Stephen stood up and picked up his plate and Gabriel’s. "You may of course find yourself totally alone for the hour."

Gabriel hoped so. The peace of the chapel and the silence of the dark confessional might help clear his head.