The Glass Lake by Maeve Binchy

cell.
    â€œHere he is,” cried Sister Madeleine, and pulled out a cardboard box with straw in it. Sitting in the middle was a tiny fox cub with his head on one side.
    â€œIsn’t he gorgeous!” Clio and Kit spoke in one voice. They reached out awkwardly as if to stroke him.
    â€œWill he bite?” Clio asked.
    â€œHe might nip a little, but he’s so small his little teeth wouldn’t hurt you.” Any other grown-up in the world would have said not to touch him.
    â€œWill he live here forever?” Kit wanted to know.
    â€œHe broke his leg, you see. I was mending it…it’s not the kind of thing you can take to the vet. Mr. Kenny wouldn’t thank you for bringing up a fox to him.” Sister Madeleine knew that even the warm feelings of Lough Glass she enjoyed would not extend toward her harboring a fox. Foxes killed people’s chickens and geese, and little turkeys. If a baby fox was to be cured, then you wouldn’t get any branch of the medical profession or establishment to help you. They looked admiringly at the little piece of wood tied to the tiny leg. “He’ll soon be able to walk and run, and then we’ll send him off to whatever life awaits him.” Sister Madeleine looked at the little pointed face that stared trustingly up at her and stroked his small, soft head.
    â€œHow can you let him go?” Kit breathed. “I’d keep him forever.”
    â€œHis place is out there. You can’t keep anything that wants to go; it’s in his nature to be free.”
    â€œBut you could make him into a pet…”
    â€œNo, that wouldn’t work. Anything or anyone who is meant to be free will go.”
    Kit shivered. It was as if Sister Madeleine were looking into the future.
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    Helen went slowly down the stairs and into the pharmacy. She gave a wan little smile.
    â€œIt’s like the shoemaker’s children being never shod…I can’t find an aspirin up in the bathroom,” she said.
    He ran to get a glass of water and put out two little tablets for her. His hand lay over hers for a moment. She smiled the same feeble attempt to respond to him.
    â€œYou look washed out, love…did you not sleep?” Martin McMahon spoke very fondly.
    â€œI didn’t actually. I kept walking around. I hope I didn’t wake the house.”
    â€œYou should have come in to me. I’d have fixed you something to make you sleep.”
    â€œAh, I don’t like calling you in the middle of the night. It’s bad enough not wanting you in my bedroom, I don’t want to be raising your hopes.”
    â€œThe hopes are always there, Helen. Maybe someday?” His face looked eager. She was silent. “Or some night?” He smiled.
    â€œI have to talk to you, Martin.”
    He looked concerned; immediately he felt her forehead.
    â€œWhat is it, love? A fever?”
    â€œNo, no, it’s not that.”
    His eyes were wide with distress. “Well, tell me about it, and don’t be putting the heart across me…”
    â€œNot here—it’s all too long and confused and…I have to get out of here…” She was flushed now, her earlier pallor gone.
    â€œWill we get Peter?”
    â€œNo we will not get Peter,” she snapped. “I want to talk to you by yourself. Will you come out for a walk with me?”
    â€œNow? But aren’t we going upstairs to have the meal that’s on the table for us?” He was utterly bewildered by her.
    â€œI told Rita that you and I would not be having our meal today, I made you a few sandwiches.” She had a neat packet wrapped in grease-proof paper. “I have to talk to you.” Her voice was not menacing, but yet Martin seemed to fear her words.
    â€œListen, love, I’m a working man, I can’t go off wandering where the fancy takes me,” he said.
    â€œIt’s early closing