Finishing Touches

by Patricia Scanlan

  Cassie laughed. ‘Could you just imagine Miss Fagin in the throes of ecstasy? She wouldn’t know whether she was horizontal or perpendicular.’

  ‘Switch out the light and go to sleep or we’ll never get up in the morning,’ Laura instructed. ‘It’s after one and I’m going to have a nice horizontal dream with Steve McQueen. Good night, Cassie.’

  ‘’Night, Laura,’ smiled Cassie as she switched out the light.

  Sitting in the library yawning the following morning, Cassie sighed. It had taken her ages to get to sleep. To tell the truth she was still smarting over Andy Callan’s betrayal of her. She had thought things were good between them. They got on great and enjoyed the same things, and even though she wouldn’t let him do much more than kiss her, he had seemed happy enough until little tart Atkins had set her eye on him and he had gone running. Cassie had to admit that her pride was well and truly bruised. It had been hard going to the last two discos to watch the pair of them dancing, wrapped around each other. But she had held her head high and pretended she was having a good time and Laura and Aileen and the rest of the gang had been most supportive. Cassie knew that Denise would sooner or later set her eye on someone else and Andy would be dropped. Denise was notorious for doing that to guys. She was the femme fatale of Port Mahon. Well, Andy was welcome to her and she was welcome to Andy, Cassie had decided, as she tossed and turned trying to get to sleep while Laura slumbered peacefully.

  She yawned again. It was so hot in the library as the thirty of them sat pretending to study under the arctic eye of Mother Perpetua. Resting her forehead on her hand, Cassie closed her eyes for a moment. Actually, with her head bent and Laura’s tall back at the desk in front of her, Mother Perpetua couldn’t see her. Cassie settled herself more comfortably. Only an hour to go, thank God. She could have a snooze on the train to Dublin.

  ‘Would you like a pillow, Catherine Jordan?’ A loud voice seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby. Cassie grunted and kept her eyes closed. She was so deliciously relaxed, she didn’t want to wake up. She must be having a nightmare or something but she could swear Mother Perpetua was bellowing at her.

  ‘Wake up, you lazy lump of a girl!’ Cassie opened a bleary eye to discover that she was having no nightmare. Mother Perpetua was indeed standing over her bellowing, as the rest of the class giggled delightedly, relieved that they were not at the centre of this new drama with the fiery nun.

  ‘Sorry, Mother!’ Cassie shot upright. Ahead of her she could see Laura’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Typical!

  ‘Do you think you are in a holiday camp? What kind of behaviour is this for a Saint Imelda’s girl? God has sent this class as a cross for me to bear,’ Mother Perpetua hissed furiously. A smothered snort from the desk in front drew her attention.

  ‘Is something amusing you, Madam Quinn?’ she said, in a tone that would have terrified Hitler.

  ‘N . . . no, Mother.’ Laura struggled for control.

  ‘Kindly stand up when I speak to you,’ snapped the nun. Laura stood. Aileen O’Shaughnessy, seeing that things were getting hot, pressed the bridge of her nose, held her breath and, a second later, there was a satisfactory spurt of blood. The class heaved a sigh of relief. Good old Aileen and her trusty nose-bleeds. They had got them out of many a tight spot.

  By the time Aileen’s nose-bleed was over, the time had come for the erring class to be dismissed. Mother Perpetua was more than glad to see them go. This lot were the bane of her life, the worst class she had encountered in thirty years of teaching. There were times she even thought they were getting the better of her. If she had not been afraid that Aileen O’Shaughnessy’s nose would start to bleed again, she would have kept them for an hour longer as an extra punishment. Mother Perpetua did not like the sight of blood and felt a little weak. After lunch she was going to lie in her room and take a valium. The doctor had told her she was having a troublesome menopause and had prescribed the tablets for her. Perpetua rather liked them and allowed herself one as a treat now and again when the going got tough. Well, the going had been tough today, God knows. She might even take two!

  Outside in the balmy early summer breeze 3S removed cardigans and wandered down the drive. ‘Jeepers, I thought Perpetua was going to have a blue fit. You should have heard the snores of you, Cassie.’ Aileen shrieked with laughter.

  ‘I wasn’t snoring, was I?’ Cassie was aghast.

  ‘You sure were, honey. Great big rumbling ones!’ grinned Laura.

  ‘Oh crikey!’ Cassie muttered.

  ‘Never mind. Perpetua forgot all about it when I turned on the big gusher,’ Aileen soothed her.

  ‘Hey, listen! Thanks a million for making your nose bleed,’ Cassie said.

  ‘You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday at the retreat.’ Aileen winked.

  ‘See you Monday,’ agreed the other girls as they parted at the gates of the school. Cassie and Laura went for a quick sandwich in the town and then caught the train for Dublin. They bought Jill a bunch of flowers from a street-trader on the way from Amiens Street and when she saw them she was very touched. They took her for tea in Bewley’s and did their best to cheer her up.

  ‘You look fantastic, Cassie. Where did you get the skirt?’ Margy Kane stared in admiration as the girls congregated outside the Priory the following Monday morning.

  ‘I got it in Penneys. Do you like it? You don’t think it’s too short?’ Cassie did a little twirl, delighted with herself. She knew she looked good in her new outfit.

  ‘Oh it’s fab, Cassie! It suits you. I wish I had the legs to wear a really short mini,’ Margy said enviously.

  ‘It’s great we don’t have to wear our uniforms, isn’t it? It’s like being on holidays. Wouldn’t it be brilliant if we had Father Paul for the retreat. He was super last year. You could say anything to him.’ Cassie was peering into the distance, looking for Laura. The main street was busy with people heading to work. Shop windows were being washed, deliveries were being made and the enticing aroma of coffee and bacon from a nearby café scented the fresh sea breeze and made Cassie hungry.

  ‘Pity we haven’t time to nip in for a bacon butty,’ Margy said regretfully.

  ‘Hmm. Don’t tempt me. Still,’ Cassie brightened, ‘we’ll get biscuits and tea at eleven.’ She caught sight of Laura striding down the main street in a pair of tight denim jeans and a clinging white T-shirt. She looked sensational.

  ‘Hiya,’ she grinned at Cassie.

  ‘Hi, Laura, you look really good,’ Cassie greeted her friend.

  ‘Do you think Father Paul will like this? I’m hoping to make him think twice about remaining a priest for ever,’ Laura laughed, eyes twinkling wickedly.

  ‘Girl, when he sees that outfit he won’t have a chance,’ giggled Cassie, who was looking forward immensely to the next two days. It was a great break away from school and routine and although it was supposed to be a spiritual affair, 3S had every intention of getting as much fun and entertainment out of the two days as possible.

  ‘Here’s Aileen.’ Laura waved madly at Aileen, who was on the other side of the street. ‘When we get in, we’ll all get seats together, so we’ll need seats for the four of us, Rose, Ger, Martina, Bernie and Pat. That’s nine. OK?’ ordered Laura, the organizer.

  ‘Hi, gang!’ smirked Aileen, who had just been whistled at as she crossed the street. She was dressed to kill in a white mini-dress and a pair of white leather boots, her eyes heavily kohled. She could have been mistaken for Mary Quant.

  ‘Get a load of that!’ gasped Margy.

  ‘Do you think Father Paul will appreciate it?’ Aileen raised an enquiring eyebrow as she basked in their admiration.

  ‘There’ll be a mass exodus from the priesthood once we hit the Priory,’ predicted Laura.

  ‘O priests of Port Mahon, your hour has come,’ announced the giggling Mary Quant clone. Her expression changed to one of horror as she spied a familiar little figure marching briskly in their direction. ‘Jesus, here’s Perpetual
Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  With a hasty scramble they rushed through the gates of the Priory and ran up the steps to the door. Sighing with relief, they entered its cool marble foyer, where they were greeted by a smiling priest.

  ‘Welcome, girls. Room Eight on the corridor to your left. You probably remember it from last year.’

  ‘Yes, Father, we do. Thank you.’ Aileen recovered her composure and led the way, hips swaying provocatively. They trooped into the room and greeted the dozen or so classmates who were already there. Swiftly, Cassie arranged the nine chairs they were saving for the whole of their gang and Aileen plonked herself on one and drew a packet of cigarettes out of her bag.

  ‘I’m gasping for a fag!’ she drawled.

  ‘Do you think we’re allowed to smoke?’ Margy’s eyes were popping out of her head at this display of daring.

  ‘Why ever not? We’re not in uniform. We’re third years, Margy! We must act it,’ lectured the sophisticate in white as she lit up and inhaled deeply. ‘This is the life, girls! This is the life! By the way, Cassie, Judy and Barbara had a tiff.’ She grinned at Cassie. Aileen was Judy’s elder sister and was well aware of the state of affairs between Cassie and Barbara.

  ‘Really! What happened?’ Cassie was intrigued. Aileen took another pull of her cigarette.

  ‘Well, seemingly, they were at the junior disco and Barbara left Judy alone for most of the night because Paddy Lowe was chatting her up.’

  ‘That little geek! God, I thought even Barbara had more taste than that!’ Cassie said in disgust.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ Aileen resumed her story. ‘I heard them arguing the following morning and Judy, who never says boo to a goose, you know, told Barbara in no uncertain terms that she didn’t like being used and dropped and that she wasn’t going to put up with it any longer. I felt quite proud of her, actually.’

  ‘Good for Judy!’ Cassie agreed. She liked Judy O’Shaughnessy, who unfortunately was completely under Barbara’s thumb. Well, maybe not any longer. Now that she was making a stand maybe the worm had turned. And good enough for Barbara, too! She’d have to learn that she couldn’t go around treating her friends like dirt, or before long she wouldn’t have a friend left.

  Aileen laughed. ‘Barbara was really taken aback that Judy had stood up to her for once and said what was on her mind. Then she left in high dudgeon.’

  ‘I’ll bet she did,’ remarked Cassie, knowing her sister of old. ‘I wonder how long the tiff will last?’

  ‘Oh not too long, I should imagine. Isn’t there a junior disco at Saint Joseph’s soon? All should be well by then.’ She arched a delicate eyebrow and nodded towards Cassie’s skirt. ‘Oh, and I’d keep an eagle eye on that skirt, if I were you. It sounds suspiciously like the one Barbara is planning to wear. I just happened to overhear them talking.’

  ‘Oh is it now? Well, we’ll see about that,’ said Cassie grimly. Barbara would go to any lengths, padlock or no padlock. Just as well Aileen had mentioned it. Forewarned was forearmed.

  A commotion at the door heralded the arrival of the rest of the gang and there was much ooohing and aaahing as they all admired each other’s outfits. ‘Are we allowed to smoke? Oh good,’ said Rose, immediately lighting up.

  ‘Are we getting tea and biscuits before we start?’ Martina asked hopefully.

  ‘Personally, I’d prefer a G & T,’ replied the incorrigible Aileen.

  ‘Or Father Paul,’ murmured Laura.

  ‘Ohhhh yessss!’ There was a ripple of agreement.

  As the girls sat down and made themselves comfortable, the air of anticipation was almost palpable. They were all dying to see Father Paul again. He had made an enormous impression on them last year, with his film-star good looks and understanding personality. They had all been looking forward to this retreat for ages.

  A small, thin, bespectacled priest came through the door and stopped short in shock. The fug of smoke intermingled with twenty different perfumes almost made his glasses steam up. Father Maurice Darnell had sinus problems! A frown creased his brow as he gazed around him in dismay. He had been right to be worried about taking this retreat. The message had come from Saint Imelda’s that they particularly wanted 3S to have a retreat with the emphasis on the spiritual side of things. Looking at that creature in the white get-up, who was smoking like a chimney, Father Maurice could tell that there was absolutely nothing spiritual about her. Or the other one with her skirt up to her buttocks, or the one in the skintight jeans.

  Two days with this lot! What had he done to deserve it? Across the room he could see one girl putting on a great slash of red lipstick; another held out her hand while a companion varnished her nails. It was worse than being in a beauty salon! Clearing his throat, he said with an air of extremely false bonhomie, ‘Good morning, girls.’

  He was ignored. The din of chatter swallowed up his greeting. Father Maurice continued gamely. Nervously raising his voice an octave, he tried again. ‘Good morning, young ladies.’

  The girls nearest the door heard him and turned to look. A hissing of ‘sshhh!’ raced around the room, until finally there was silence. The girls rose to their feet to greet the priest. ‘Good morning, young ladies. My name is Father Maurice. I’ll be giving you your retreat for the next two days.’ A gasp greeted this announcement. Father Maurice made his way to the table and chair at the top of the room. ‘If you would desist from smoking until break-time please,’ he requested briskly, flinging open a few windows en route.

  ‘First we will say a prayer, putting ourselves in the hands of the Lord above for the duration of this retreat.’ He prayed most earnestly as the girls looked at each other in profound dismay. Then he said, ‘You may sit.’

  The members of 3S subsided into their chairs, quite deflated. ‘Today our lecture and discussion is going to centre on the Ten Commandments. You may take notes if you wish.’

  Silence greeted this pronouncement. Father Maurice wiped his brow. Well, at least the creatures were silent.

  It was a welcome relief for the class when the tea-trolley was wheeled in, two hours later. Galvanized out of their lethargy, 3S fell upon the goodies as the Israelites had fallen upon the manna in the desert.

  ‘You horse, Jane O’Hara,’ Aileen was heard to say. ‘Stop guzzling all the chocolate biscuits. Look at her, she’s got three chocolate ones!’

  ‘I have not!’ howled an outraged Jane. ‘I’m just bringing two over to Miriam and Paula.’

  ‘Here, give us some of those, Margy Kane. Don’t be so greedy,’ said someone else.

  ‘Shag off and get your own.’ Margy battled through the crowd with a plate of biscuits for the gang clutched to her large bosom.

  ‘Girls! Girls!’ Father Maurice gulped in horror at the savagery of the hordes around the tea-trolley.

  ‘I don’t want one of those crappy plain ones. Are there no fancy ones left? Excuse me, Father.’ A stout girl elbowed him out of her way and dived on the last plate of biscuits. Father Maurice fled.

  ‘He’s so boring,’ groaned Cassie as she drank her tea and ate one of the biscuits Margy had bravely procured.

  ‘Perpetua’s revenge!’ growled Laura, who was desperately disappointed not to have the chance to flirt with Father Paul.

  ‘Did you see the way he skipped over the Sixth Commandment, the little coward!’ said Aileen with disdain. A glint came into her eyes.

  ‘I know.’ She smiled devilishly. Leaning over, she beckoned them to draw closer and to shrieks of delight told them of her plan, which she proceeded to put into action as soon as the retreat was resumed after lunch.

  ‘Are French kissing and heavy petting sins if they are done with love?’ she asked the priest.

  Father Maurice nearly fell off the chair with dismay. It was the question-and-answer session after the morning’s lecture on the Ten Commandments. The creature in white with the black stuff around her eyes was standing up.

  ‘Lovemaking in the confines of a marriage blessed by the sa
craments is never a sin, as long as the partners respect the sanctity of their bodies. Outside of marriage it is, of course, sinful behaviour.’ There! He’d handled that fine, he assured himself.

  ‘If it is done with love?’ persisted Aileen. ‘After all, God gave us the gift of love. Surely we should be able to make love without guilt, as it is, after all, a gift from God?’

  ‘I think you are confusing lust with love, my child. Lust is one of the seven deadly sins,’ Father Maurice said coldly.

  Laura stood up. ‘Don’t you think the church’s stance on contraception is hypocritical considering the fact that they allow natural methods? Surely the aim is the same. To prevent conception. What’s the difference between natural and artificial methods if the ultimate aim is the same?’ she pounced triumphantly.

  ‘I suggest you read Pope Paul VI’s encyclical on birth control. You will find that it explains the church’s position and you will get the answer to your question. It is far too involved a question to get into here. We must move on,’ Father Maurice said unhappily. Another day and a half of this lot! It was an unbearable thought.

  ‘Well, I still think it’s hypocritical,’ retorted Laura coldly. ‘It’s just splitting hairs, if you ask me.’

  Nobody’s asking you, you little madam, the priest wanted to snarl, but he restrained himself heroically.

  ‘Splitting sperm would be more like it,’ drawled Aileen. 3S guffawed!

  ‘Young ladies! Please!’ Father Maurice said weakly, shocked by their vulgarity. With a sinking heart he saw that another one was standing up.

  ‘Do you think,’ said Cassie, ‘that women should be ordained?’

  ‘I most certainly do not,’ said Father Maurice piously, more to himself than his audience. ‘I think if God had wanted women to be priests he would have ordained them when he ordained the twelve apostles.’

  ‘But don’t you agree that the church treats women as second-class citizens?’