Leaving the room, Dr Turner sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. Sister Bernadette was somewhat of a mystery to him. Her faith was a mystery to him and he didn't know how much strength she had in her, both physically and mentally – and, he supposed, spiritually. How do you begin to digest this news?

He made his way towards the kitchen, assuming Sister Julienne would be making Horlicks, as initially offered to him earlier. He couldn't think of anything he would less want right now, thick milky drink – it made him feel quite sick to his stomach.

In the kitchen, Sister Julienne was watching, somewhat vacantly, the milk pan – expressionless.

"Sister!" Came a cry from behind her. Blinking, her head shot up and she quickly removed the pan from the heat. Sister Evangelina made her way over.

"I don't want it curdled, thank you, Sister!" shrieked Sister Evangelina, in a tone that was usually saved for Sister Monica Joan.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, I…" she stopped. She wasn't quite sure what she was doing, or where her mind had gone.

"You were on a realm far away from here. Don't tell Sister Monica Joan, she'll tell you it's because Saturn has moved an inch to the left…!"

Sister Julienne smiled in acknowledgement at the accurate statement. Sister Evangelina might be abrupt, but she was incredibly perceptive.

"Sister…?" Dr Turner called. Sister Julienne turned around. "Could I borrow you, please?"

"Certainly," she responded, leaving Sister Evangelina to rescue the milk.

Sister Bernadette's hands did not stay clasped long. She wrung them in her lap. She wasn't even sure what to pray. Did she pray for forgiveness? For healing? Did she pour her heart out and shout at God that this seemed unfair, even if she had asked for it? She just didn't know.

Getting to her knees, she gripped her hands together. There was no altar in this room, and no stained glass or even crucifix to focus her attention on. And without the focus she felt lost. Infact, she didn't think she'd ever felt this lost.

"Legions," Dr Turner said gravely.

Sister Julienne nodded, understanding what Dr Turner was saying. Most likely TB. She sighed and closed her eyes briefly.

"Sister Bernadette has agreed for me to examine her. It is most likely she'll need to go for more detailed tests, which I will of course arrange."

"Thank you, Dr Turner," Sister Julienne responded, words temporarily escaping her. Sister Bernadette was always someone that she had held in great esteem. She recognised the strength of her faith and the strength of her mind. They weren't dissimilar in temperament and that definitely bonded them. Of course, as a nun, Sister Julienne's calling was to love everybody. But it was inevitable that some people you just clicked with, comrades in arms so to speak. Sister Bernadette was that to her, she held her in her heart, she understood her, indeed they understood each other – often without needing to exchange words.

"I will go to her," Sister Julienne said matter-of-factly, standing up. "And then we will come and find you for the examination."

"Yes," Dr Turner said. "No rush though, I'm ready when you are."

Sister Julienne smiled slightly, appreciative of the doctors consideration.

Still on her knees Sister Bernadette had now given up even trying to pray. She sat, having removed her glasses, and was hiding her face in her hands. She was aware of someone entering the room and she desperately hoped it wasn't any of the nurses or Dr Turner. She didn't want to inflict this on them. She removed her face from her hands, but could not bring herself to turn around.

Then the presence was sat next to her, facing her. Sister Bernadette continued to focus ahead of her, she hardly dare turn to look at the figure next to her. The familiarity of the swishing of a habit, the instant feeling of comfort. It was Sister Julienne.

"My dear Sister," she said quietly. There was nothing else to say – what could anyone offer in such an unknown situation?

Closing her eyes, Sister Bernadette leant into her friend and felt the familiar comfort of Sister Julienne's arms around her. She allowed some solitary tears, which had so reluctantly come earlier run down her cheek and drop first onto the material of her own habit, and then onto Sister Julienne's.

Gently, Sister Julienne wiped the stray tears from Sister Bernadette's cheeks and encouraged her to sit up. She gently took the young nuns hands in hers and Sister Bernadette was surprised at how they rested calmly in the older nuns – when just five minutes beforehand they had wrung in her own lap.

"I cannot pray," Sister Bernadette whispered. "I have no words. And yet my head spins."

Sister Julienne looked compassionately at her friend. "Words are not needed, my dear, He knows all and He sees all. For the moment, just rest yourself in that knowledge and I shall pray for you."

And so there the two nuns sat, somewhat comfortably on the floor. Sister Bernadette carefully concentrating on the whispered words of Sister Julienne said so delicately and carefully as if any louder would disturb the peace around them. She carefully held the worried nuns hands, caressing them in an act of comfort that the two of them had come to know from their relationship. And she hoped, beyond all measure, that the Lord's purpose in this situation would soon become known to them because sometimes even she could not understand His ways.