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‘Yes,’ agreed Elodie.
‘What are you going to call her?’ she asked.
‘Marguerite,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘After Grand-mère, I feel like she helped to bring the baby into the world safely somehow.’
Sister Augustine smiled. ‘That’s perfect. It is a lovely name, and she would be very honoured. Sister Grace has gone to fetch the birth certificate; we’ll need to fill out the forms later. But there’s no rush.’
Elodie frowned, staring at the painting on the wall opposite. ‘You can put down that her mother’s name is Marianne Blanchet.’
‘Marianne?’ said Sister Augustine.
She nodded. ‘Didn’t you tell me that when you took your vows you took a new name? I think I’d like that too, as we start a new life. Grand-mère’s second name was Marianne, a version of Mary, the mother. Well, today I felt that giving birth here, under her gaze, that perhaps she was watching over us. Perhaps it was a sign for a new beginning.’
The sister patted her hand, she understood.
