by Mark Seaman
Susan placed the sheets she was folding on to a table. “I’ll come with you.”
Sister Margaret stood in her way. “On whose authority will you be leaving your duties, young lady? I don’t remember saying Sister Claire wanted to speak with you.”
Diane laughed as she followed Sister Margaret out of the room. “It’s alright; I’ll fill you in on all the gory details when I get back. And if she says I’m in trouble for anything I’ll put the blame on you two.”
“That’s why I wanted to come with you,” Susan called after her. “We know what you’re like.” She turned to me. “Sister Margaret knows more than she’s letting on.”
“Maybe, but she’s probably as scared of Sister Claire as the rest of us, along with her hotline to God’s punishment rota.”
Susan smiled. “Honestly for a so called loving creator he certainly wants his pound of flesh when in comes to confession or atonement for our dreadful sins. You’d have thought he’d have a better sense of humour than demanding we receive a beating for putting too much starch in the nuns’ underwear so it all dries stiff as a board. It made me laugh so I don’t understand why God wasn’t amused as well.” I laughed. “Sister Claire certainly wasn’t though.”
“I know, the cow gave me six strokes with the paddle for that, the palms of my hands stung for ages.” She waved her hands in the air and blew on them as if to demonstrate how sorely they had been beaten.
We finished our work in the laundry room and were about to leave when Sister Rosemary entered with a concerned look on her face. “You girls might want to go upstairs to the dormitory; Diane has had some bad news.”
“What’s happened,” I asked?
“Her baby has been taken.”
“What do you mean taken?”
“By a young couple. He’s been adopted.”
Susan pushed in front of me. “But how, why, surely Diane should have been told it was going to happen?”
“Sister Claire felt that it would be better this way. Diane had always spoken about wanting to keep her baby, she even gave him a name, Kenneth, wasn’t it, after her father? That was never a good idea, at least not to name the child after a family member; it simply creates a bond that can never be fully realised. All of you girls know your babies will eventually leave here to live with adoptive parents unless there are special circumstances or your families come forward and offer you and the baby the support it needs. Sadly, that didn’t happen with Diane or Kenneth she…” Her voice trailed away as she took on board the enormity of what she had said in repeating, once again, the name Diane had given her son. We both knew what she had said about having to let our babies go was the accepted, if unspoken, truth no matter how hard it was to admit to ourselves. Even so, when the moment actually arrived it still came as a huge shock and was a time of desperate sadness for so many of us.
Susan and I ran upstairs, another sinful act as far as the sisters were concerned but one that we were more than ready to face the paddle for or whatever other form of punishment might be metered out to us for so flagrantly abusing the house rules. After all, this was our friend and she was hurting with a pain far in excess of anything that Sister Claire might choose to inflict on us for an act of such brazen rebellion.
Diane was sitting alone on her bed weeping, punching her pillow and screaming obscenities as we entered the room. “Fucking Sister Claire the bitch, I’ll kill her, so help me, I’ll kill her.”
“Sister Rosemary just told us, they’ve taken Kenneth away, we’re so sorry.” I didn’t really know what to say but still wanted to offer at least some crumb of comfort to our dear friend no matter how small.
Diane looked up, her face bright red with emotion. “The bitch told me this couple had seen him on two previous occasions and said what a beautiful little boy he was and that they would love and care for him. I told her I would have given him all the love he needed and that nobody else could ever do that as well as me, his real mother. The cow just laughed and said as a child of Satan I had the sin of lust running through my body and so could expect nothing less than God’s reckoning for my actions. She said I should be grateful this couple had wanted to offer him a home and that God was sparing him the damnation I was surely destined for by giving him the chance of a new life away from me.”
Susan began to cry as well. “She’s the evil one, the bitch.”
I sat on the bed and took Diane in my arms as she shook with rage and emotion.
“What else did she say?”
“She told me to go straight to confession and seek forgiveness for my spite towards her and the couple who had taken Kenneth away. She said I should be saying prayers of thanks that my son would now receive the love and care I could never give him.”
Susan kicked out at the leg of the bed in frustration. “She hasn’t got a bloody clue has she? What would she know about love and care, the twisted old witch?”
“That’s pretty much what I said to her.”
“Bet that went down well?”
“She slapped me and told me to come up here to calm down while she decided what form of punishment would suit my outburst and ingratitude towards the Holy Order.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her to fuck off.”
Susan raised her hand to her mouth in feigned shock and grinned. “Good for you. About time someone put her in her place. Bet she went potty though?”
Diane looked up again turning her face to one side where we could see the swollen imprint of a hand across her cheek. “She slapped me again.”
Susan leant across and gently stroked her face. “I can see. We can’t let her get away with this, let’s go and have it out with her.”
With our passions so highly charged I realised that any further protest just now would only inflame the situation and make matters worse for us. I stood up and attempted to provide the voice of reason.
“Look, we all know what an insensitive bitch she is but when it comes down to it we’re all pretty much in the same boat. As long as we’re stuck in here someone else is always going to get our baby eventually. We can scream and shout as much as we like but there’s nothing we can actually do about it, they have the law on their side.” I looked at Diane. “You’ll never get over losing Kenneth, and it will be the same for me and Susan when our time comes. It’s shit but it’s the way the system works.”
Diane broke down again. “But I could have tried to look after him; they could have at least given me a chance.”
For the next fifteen minutes we just sat on the bed hugging each other and crying. My heart went out to Diane and I knew I would feel exactly the same way when it came time for letting my baby go, even though it had been conceived with a man I now despised.
As I sat there considering my friend’s raw sense of loss I recalled the similar feelings of almost unbearable pain I had encountered in witnessing the passing of my brother and parents in the nightmare surroundings of Birkenau. Whilst the conditions under which their lives had been taken were clearly more horrific than the parting of Diane and her baby son, the personal grief and heartache she was experiencing was, to her, no less devastating. For the first time in as long as I could remember I found myself praying with an intensity I had all but forgotten. What if God really did exist? What if he did love us and was aware our pain and fear? What if he wanted to help us in our grieving, rather that simply pour down his wrath and punishment in flames of torment and persecution from on high as Sister Claire would have us believe? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I needed to believe in something bigger and better than the cruel and heartless dictates of this woman who held sway over so much of our young lives. In that moment of desperation I committed my friends and myself into God’s care in the hope that if he did exist, and was listening, he would, at least for now, take my appeal for help seriously and act upon it.
Over the few days Diane became calm
er in herself although no less vindictive in her attitude and manner towards Sister Claire. Eventually it came time for her to leave and step back into society away from the confines of the Holy Order, but after spending so much time in the home and living under such a strict regime it was easy to forget what the outside world had to offer, or even what it was like. We had all become virtually institutionalised in our outlook and acceptance of the austere and unforgiving conditions imposed on us in this claustrophobic and penal style edifice.
Sister Rosemary made sure we had a little time together to say our goodbyes on the day Diane left. “You take care of yourself, Diane. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you but I hope never to see you again, if you understand my meaning?”
Diane put her arms around the young nun and hugged her. This was as much in recognition of her appreciation of the kindness and understanding demonstrated towards her by Sister Rosemary as it was to say goodbye.
“Thank you, Sister, I won’t forget you I promise.” She stepped back and looked around the cold and austere surroundings of the entrance hallway, her voice echoing slightly as she spoke. “Although there are those here I will make every effort to erase from my memory altogether.”
“Now that’s not very nice, Diane. All the sisters, even Sister Claire, want only the best for you and the little ones we help bring into this world. And we offer up daily prayers of thanksgiving for each of you and ask that the good Lord will always keep you safe and guide you in his way.”
Diane smiled and chose to leave on a high rather than react negatively again.
“Oh I know that, Sister, I was meaning these two.” She gently poked Susan and I in the ribs in what we took to be a display of affection.
“And we’ll be pleased to see the back of you as well,” Susan retorted, laughing as she spoke.
A wave of emotion overcame me as I took a hold of Diane’s hand. “Write to me eh, I’ll miss you.”
I felt her squeeze my hand tightly in return as we both fought back our tears. “Yeah okay, me too.”
She gave the three of us a parting kiss and then without looking back walked through the large front doors and out into the sunshine. I was briefly reminded of the words of scripture that were so often drummed into us by the nuns, and for once felt them to be truly apt as I watched my friend leave the grim surroundings of the home and move, out of the darkness and into the light. We stood for a moment watching her walk away, the gravel on the driveway crackling under her feet as she did so.
Susan and I shouted one last goodbye and smiled at each other as Diane, without looking back, waved her hand in the air in response. My head wanted to believe this was a final act of defiance by my friend demonstrated towards the home but my heart told me it was to hide the tears that she, like us, was allowing to flow. Sister Rosemary put her arms around our shoulders. “Well at least it’s only the two of you I have to worry about now.”
“Thanks, Sister, we love you too.” She rubbed our shoulders and walked away leaving us to watch our friend disappear around the corner at the end of the driveway and out of our lives. The two of us stood for a while hugging each other as the tears continued to run down our cheeks. Eventually I broke the silence. “Come on then or we’ll have Sister Claire down here shouting at us to get back to work.”
As we moved towards the home and the large front door that was still open waiting to swallow us up again Susan looked at me and smiled. “I’m not sure whether I envy Diane or not. I mean she’s out of this place, and that’s got to be a good thing I know, but at what cost? She’s never gonna see her baby again is she?” I took her hand in silent recognition of that truth and one that would presumably apply to the both of us in the weeks ahead.
Life at the home seemed quiet without Diane. Susan and I didn’t have the same appetite for mischief as we had done when it had been the three of us. Equally we were nearing the time for our own babies to be born and so we agreed that genuine fatigue also had a part to play in our general lack of energy and inspiration as to ways of annoying the nuns, especially Sister Claire.
One morning during breakfast Susan suddenly grabbed at her stomach and cried out in pain. One of the sisters came across to our table. “What on earth is the matter, girl?”
“I’ve got a pain in my stomach, it’s really bad like cramp but it’s deep inside.” Susan’s face had gone grey and she looked clammy with beads of perspiration breaking out across her forehead.
“It’s probably just your time.” There was no concern or sympathy displayed in her words. “Stand yourself up and stop making such a fuss. We’ll get you long to the delivery room.”
As Susan got to her feet I noticed her dress was wet.
“I think your waters have broken, it won’t be long now,” I said, trying to encourage her but sensing that all was not well.
As she and the nun moved from the table I saw that the lower part of Susan’s dress was turning red.
“Sister she’s bleeding.”
The nun looked for herself at the red stain that was spreading rapidly and spoke again, her speech and demeanour more consolatory. “Now come along, Susan, hold on to me, we need to get you to the delivery room as quickly as we can, dear.” As they left I saw blood was now dripping onto the floor from Susan’s dress such was the flow from her body. All of the other girls and I looked at each other; we had seen many others taken to the delivery room, some even as a measure of urgency, but none of us had previously witnessed such a dramatic and bloodied exit.
Sister Margaret entered the room and clapped her hands. “Now come along all of you finish your breakfast and then you can make a start on your duties. It is just Susan’s time as it will be yours soon enough so let’s not have any fuss about a spot or two of blood, it’s quite natural in childbirth to bleed a little.” She called to one of the other girls. “Mary Jane, you look as though you’ve finished so off with you to the wash room and fetch a mop and bucket to clear this up,” she said pointing to the blood already staining the wooden floor.
Another of the girls leaned across the table to me. “That don’t look like a spot or two of blood to me, do you think she’ll be alright?”
“I hope so; she was fine a few minutes ago.”
The girl tried to reassure me. “The nuns might be horrid at times but at least they know what they’re doing in that delivery room, they’ve all done their training; well the ones that do the business anyway.”
Whilst I remained concerned for Susan I did have to agree that she was in the best hands for her baby and its journey into the world. I decided to knock on God’s door again as I cleared away my breakfast things with another prayer for my friend and her baby’s safe arrival.
I found it hard to concentrate over the next hour or so in the laundry room as I took my turn in addressing the mountain of ironing that lay all around. It was hot and I couldn’t stop thinking about Susan but my own baby clearly decided it wasn’t getting enough attention and so kept kicking me as I tackled the seemingly endless mound of sheets and pillow cases that appeared to increase in size each time I turned to take another from the pile behind me.
It was just over two hours later that Sister Margaret approached me. I could tell by the look on her face that my growing fears for Susan, having heard nothing for such a long time, were well founded.
“Ruth, I have some sad news for you.” My heart raced as I feared the worst. “It’s Susan isn’t it, is she alright?”
“I’m sorry, but Susan has lost her baby. If you come with me I’ll take you to her, she has been asking for you.”
I walked into a small room next to the delivery area biting my lip so as not to let my tears flow as I looked at my friend, her hair lank and stuck to the side of her face which carried an expression of complete loss and bewilderment. She had a tube connected to her arm presumably to replace the blood and fluids she had lost.
As I approached the bed
Susan looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. “She’s gone, Ruth, my little girl is gone.” I took her hand and squeezed it; both words and emotions failing me as I too began to weep.
“I’m so sorry.” It was all I could manage as we collapsed into each other’s arms. We stayed like that for some time, holding onto each other for comfort, our shoulders and clothing damp with our tears. Eventually our sobbing ceased and I pulled back a little, wiping my face with my sleeve as I did so. “What happened?”
“I started haemorrhaging for some reason which meant they had to get the baby out quickly but the umbilical chord got wrapped around her neck and so she began to panic. The more she fought to be free of me the tighter the chord became and she strangled herself.” She paused, catching her breath between sobs of emotion. “They called in a doctor to help with the haemorrhaging. He says I should be alright once they’ve replaced the blood I lost.” She broke down again. “How can I ever be alright again knowing I killed my own baby?”
I took her face in my hands. “You mustn’t say that, it wasn’t your fault, none of it.”
One of the sisters took my arm. “That’s enough for now, Susan needs to rest; you can talk with her again soon.”
I bent down and kissed my friend on the cheek and whispered, “I love you.” It was the first time I had said that and truly meant it for as long as I could remember. We had been through such a lot together over the past few months and I think we both felt our relationship had become much more than one of simple friendship in all that we had experienced in the time we had known each other.
Susan smiled up at me. “I love you too.”
I visited her every day over the next week as she slowly recovered her physical strength; mentally though I sensed her mood becoming darker as she continued to struggle with losing her baby under such tragic circumstances. How different her reaction was too so many of the other girls at the home, some of whom almost envied Susan’s dramatic loss.
One girl said to me, “Of course I wouldn’t want the bleed she had but if the little bugger wants to strangle itself on the way out then good riddance. It’s what I would like to have done to the bastard who put it inside me and then buggered off back to his wife that he conveniently forgot to tell me about all the time he was shagging me.”