‘Goodbye, girls,’ the woman said.
‘Goodbye, miss,’ we echoed.
Sister Francis looked at us proudly as they left. We’d put on a good performance.
Later, in the line to go to chapel for the Rosary, I heard Chrissie’s voice behind me. ‘Do you think that those inspectors were here because someone found our paper planes?’
It hadn’t occurred to me and I thought for a moment. The visit had the appearance of being prearranged, but it was a bit odd that the inspectors had turned up on the same day that we sent our messages over the wall. If they’d come because of our pleas for help, I thought, they’d been really quick to act. Then again, if they’d wanted to find out the truth, they should have talked to us without nuns being present.
All through the Rosary I thought about the paper planes lying on the other side of the wall. I tried to visualise people picking them up and reading them and thought about what I’d do if I were in their shoes. It was hard to think about anything else and I couldn’t wait to get a chance to talk to Bernadette and Chrissie again. Sharing a secret with my friends was great, and it really helped get me through the day.
CHAPTER 14
The Cubbyhole
At the top of the stairs, next to one of the dormitories, there was a storeroom. It wasn’t really big enough to be called a room; it was more of a walk-in cupboard. The first thing you noticed when you entered it was the strong smell of cleaning materials, a pungent mixture of floor polish, Vim and Jeyes Fluid. The walls were lined with large wooden pigeonholes that contained cleaning products and utensils such as hand brushes, deck scrubbers and cloths. The room was also known as ‘Sister Thomas’s cubbyhole’. She held the keys, and she controlled what – and who – went in and out.
I’d been to the cubbyhole many times, but my visits usually had nothing to do with cleaning. This was where Sister Thomas took me, and others, to be punished. I hated the cubbyhole. It was the very worst part of my living nightmare. Today I was in trouble for looking at Sister Thomas on the way to Mass. A few weeks earlier I’d been in trouble for not looking at her. Originally she’d accused me of not being able to look people straight in the face. She’d said that when I looked down I was gazing into Hell. So this time I’d looked directly at her, but she’d taken offence at that, too. It was another lose-lose situation, I thought, as I walked ahead of her up the stairs.
Just the sight of that door from the top of the stairs was enough to fill me with the deepest sense of dread and despair. My small frame trembled, my limbs grew heavy, and each step was more difficult than the last. I knew what lay ahead and wished with all my heart that it was already over.
Sister Thomas racked through her large set of keys, searching for the one that would unlock the cubby. She met my eye before opening the door. I recognised the look on her face, it was the look that said, ‘I’ve got you, Reilly, you’re mine.’ I’d seen it almost every day since I’d moved up to the juniors. My heart sank.
Following me inside the cubby, she switched on the light and locked the door behind her. In one corner of the small room there was an old wooden crate. She pulled it into the centre of the space and sat down, staring long and hard at me. Beneath my brown convent-issue dress, I began to quake with fear.
‘Undress and face the wall, Reilly!’
Sister Thomas’s orders were to be obeyed at once, or things could get a lot worse, so I turned my back to her and started to take off my clothes. My body was shaking and my fingers fumbling as I struggled to remove the garments.
It struck me as odd that whenever we undressed in the dormitory we had to do so underneath our long nightdresses and that even a glimpse of bare flesh would have been enough to provoke the severest reprimand from the nun now staring so intensely at my body. But I was in no position to ask questions. I carefully folded each item of clothing I took off and placed it in a neat pile on the floor, until I was naked, still facing the wall. There was no sound from Sister Thomas. I knew that she was playing games – making me wait as long as possible before starting my punishment – and I let out an anguished sob.
‘No one will hear you, Reilly, so you can stop that at once!’ she shouted.
In an attempt to stop crying, I took a deep breath and held on to it for as long as I could, standing perfectly still and in silence. Tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, forming wet patches on the dark wooden floor. I couldn’t see Sister Thomas, but I could feel her eyes boring into me. This was part of a regular pattern that she followed, and it was obvious that she got some kind of thrill out of seeing me like this.
I was used to the brutal punishments dished out by many of the nuns, but what happened here, with Sister Thomas, went well beyond that. I lowered my head and waited. Almost at once, an intense, excruciating pain filled my backside. The force of the blow threw me against the pigeonholes. Crying out, I tried to keep myself upright and pushed away from the wall.
‘I’ll beat the Devil out of you, Reilly! Get your eyes to Heaven!’ Sister Thomas screamed.
I raised my eyes, hoping that if I did as I was told, the punishment wouldn’t be as bad this time.
‘Turn around and face me, Reilly.’
I turned, trying hard not to lower my gaze, but my eyes were full of tears, and I didn’t know where to focus them. As I peered forward, I could just make out the blurred black and white robed figure towering over me, a heavy wooden clothes brush raised high above my head, poised to strike. The brush moved, and I instinctively shrank from the blow and dropped to my knees, putting up my hands to shield the back of my head.
‘Take your eyes off me, Reilly!’ she shrieked.
I felt another explosion of pain as the brush head smashed into my back. Again and again she laid into me. Huddled on the floor, I lacked the breath to scream, and if I had, it would have made no impression. Even now she continued to taunt me.
‘You haven’t had enough yet, Reilly,’ she laughed, smashing the brush down again.
I lay on the floor sobbing hysterically, my back, bottom and legs racked with pain, shivering as much from cold as from fright. My suffering was made all the worse by the certain knowledge that no one would come and rescue me.
Finally, it dawned on me that the beating had stopped. It had probably only lasted several minutes, but it felt like an age. I moved my head out from behind my hand, just a little, and watched Sister Thomas pacing up and down the confined space of the cubby. I tried to sit up but couldn’t find the strength, so I lay there at her mercy, hoping the punishment was over. Unfortunately, it was not.
‘Get up, Reilly. I’m not finished with you yet.’ Once more I tried to get to my feet. ‘Move!’ she shouted.
Slowly, I managed to pull myself up into a standing position. Shaking with fear, convulsing with sobs, I turned to face her.
‘I’m leaving you in here, Reilly, to think about whether you want to be a child of God or a child of the Devil. You will not move from this spot until I come back. And you will not make a sound!’
I heard the door being locked and her footsteps on the stairs, but I dared not move yet. Everything was quiet. Frozen to the spot, my body aching all over, I noticed that there were hot-red weals rising on my legs and on the cheeks of my backside.
I wrapped my arms around my body for comfort and warmth. There was nothing to do now but wait. In some ways this was the worst part of the punishment, as I never knew how long she’d leave me. Sometimes she’d return within the hour – but often many hours, or occasionally even days, would pass before she came back. The sister in charge of you could do what she liked with you. The other nuns wouldn’t dream of intervening. And when Sister Thomas eventually returned, she might not necessarily broadcast her approach with the pounding of thick convent shoes on the stairs or the clanging of heavy iron keys. Instead, she often crept back in silence, with her shoes in her hand and the keys carefully restrained. I knew I had good reason to be afraid and that no matter how cold or cramped I became I must
not move from my spot. I wasn’t about to make things harder for myself by giving her an excuse to prolong or intensify my punishment.
Sometime later I heard the bell ring for dinner, followed by the sound of girls moving towards the refectory. I wondered if Sister Thomas would come back to let me out or, more likely, to check that I was still standing on my spot. But there was no sign of her. All I could hear was the fading sounds of the last few girls settling behind their seats, ready for grace. After grace a deathly silence pervaded the convent. Nowhere was that silence felt more than in the cubby.
There was no heating in the cubby, and I shivered and sobbed as I tried to rub some warmth into my goose bump-covered flesh. Time passed slowly while I waited for the sound of the after-dinner bell. The bells were my watch, but they seemed to ring untrue, because it always felt like hours were passing in the cubby when only minutes had elapsed outside.
I paced up and down on the spot, trying to get some feeling back into my legs. Soon, pacing turned into jigging, and then I realised with horror that I needed to go to the toilet. As much as I loathed the sight of Sister Thomas, I now prayed for her to return before nature took its course. I couldn’t hang on for very much longer, and I knew that she would be furious if she came back to find I’d wet myself.
By the time the bell sounded for the end of dinner, I was bursting to go. Perhaps if she came directly up from the refectory, I might hold out long enough to beg to use the toilet – and surely she would let me go. Not that she would be concerned about my plight, but she wouldn’t like to see her sacred floor soiled by a wretched Reilly. But then I thought that perhaps this was exactly what she was hoping for. It would prove what a vile child I was and give her every reason to punish me further. Just then I heard footsteps approaching. Please, please, please, I begged in silence, but the footsteps moved on and faded slowly, and with them went all hope.
I wasn’t aware at first that my struggle was over. First the tops of my legs felt pleasantly warm, then the pain in my stomach eased, and I felt an almost euphoric sense of relief wash over me. Warm fluid poured down my legs, and a puddle spread rapidly outwards from my feet. There didn’t seem any point in holding back now, so I just let go until I’d finished. Eventually, when the flow had stopped, I found myself standing in a puddle of urine. An overpowering stench filled the small room.
Sister Thomas is going to kill me, I thought, staring at the puddle of wee. ‘Oh my God, what am I going to do?’ I whispered into the darkness.
Stepping out of the puddle, I shook each foot dry. The urine had felt warm on my bare legs and feet, but now, as they dried, I grew colder than ever. I searched the pigeonholes for something to clear up the mess without the nun noticing. But this was Sister Thomas’s private space. If I touched anything, she was bound to notice, and then I would get punished for stealing as well. As I racked my brains for an idea, I heard footsteps outside in the corridor, followed by the jangling of keys. The heavy wooden door swung open.
Sister Thomas walked in with her arms folded in front of her. She was clearly about to say something, but instead she turned quickly, slammed and locked the door behind her and swung round to face me again. I was back on my spot now, with my eyes downcast. Whack! My head flew back with the force of a powerful slap, and I fell to the floor, into the puddle.
‘You filthy dirty brute, Reilly!’ she yelled as she hit me again, careful to avoid the wee. Eventually, when she’d tired of slapping and punching me, she ordered me to my feet.
‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ I pleaded with her. ‘I couldn’t help it.’
‘Shut up, Reilly!’ She grabbed a handful of my hair and forced my head down into the puddle. Using me like a mop, she rubbed my head back and forth across the floor until my long, loose hair was dripping wet and my face and nose were scratched raw. Finally, with a powerful tug, she forced me to my feet.
‘Get dressed and get this cleared up right now, Reilly, and don’t think I’ve finished with you yet.’ She released her grip on my hair.
I wouldn’t meet her eye as I put my clothes back on, but I was aware that she was watching my every move. Once I was dressed, she told me to go to the bathroom and get a mop and a bucket filled with water and Jeyes Fluid. I did as I was told and was quickly back to clean the floor. Once the job was completed, she locked up the cubby and ordered me back to the bathroom.
Walking on ahead of her, my hair still dripping with wee, I wondered what would happen next. I quietly prayed that I had the strength to bear it. As I put the bucket and mop away, my thoughts were distracted by the sound of running water. Turning towards the noise, I saw Sister Thomas pouring Jeyes Fluid into a bath. As usual, the smell of it turned my stomach. I knew the bath was for me and watched her pick up a wooden scrubbing brush. I didn’t like the way she was staring at me and froze with fear as she began to bellow at me again.
‘Get yourself over here, Reilly. You filthy animal!’ I slowly shuffled towards her. ‘Undress and get into the bath,’ she said.
I began to undress.
‘Quicker than that, Reilly!’
Terrified, I tore at my clothes.
The cold water was still running as I stepped into the freezing bath. The Jeyes Fluid, which stung at the best of times, was like a dagger to my wounds. Just as I was lowering my battered body into the cold, murky water, she clamped her hands onto my shoulders and tried to force me under the water. I barely knew what had hit me and was completely disorientated. Panicking, I grabbed hold of the side of the bath and tried to keep my head up, but my strength gave out, and slowly she forced me down. Underwater, unable to breathe, I was convinced that she wasn’t going to let go of me in time. I was going to die. I started freaking out, and she lost her grip. I pushed myself up, gasping for air. Looking behind me, I saw her drying her hands. Thank God, I thought, it’s over.
She turned towards me again, her face flushed red from her exertions. The front of her habit was soaked, despite her best attempts to dry it, and she was clearly in as bad a temper as ever. She put the towel on the floor and picked up the scrubbing brush.
‘You will stand up, Reilly, and I will teach you that cleanliness is next to godliness and that there’s no room in Heaven for filthy animals like you Reillys. You’ll all be going straight to Hell.’
I stood up, shivering with cold and in terror.
‘Turn around, Reilly, and bend over.’
I began crying again, pleading. ‘Please, Sister! No!’
But she only got angrier. ‘Now, Reilly!’ she shouted, clearly losing her patience.
I turned my back to her and bent over, holding on to the side of the bath.
‘Spread your legs wide apart.’
I obeyed. I could hear her rubbing the scrubbing brush on a large block of carbolic soap and could guess what was coming next. I was right, and soon I felt rough bristles scratching the private parts between my legs and bottom. The pain and humiliation seemed unbearable, but somehow I had to bear them. What choice was there? Again and again I begged her, ‘Please, Sister! Please stop …’ but she carried on until she was completely satisfied that the job was done.
When it was over, I sat in the water, sobbing. The pain in my private parts was excruciating, and my whole body hurt from the damage inflicted over the course of the day.
‘Finish yourself off now, Reilly, and when you’re dressed, stand outside the storeroom door till I get back.’
‘Yes, Sister,’ I whimpered, trying to hold back the sobs until her footsteps had faded into the distance. I got out of the water, wrapped myself in a towel and sank to the floor, weeping and trembling uncontrollably.
CHAPTER 15
Girls on the Run
When Loretta heard on the grapevine that I’d been in the cubbyhole again, she sneaked away from her work and came to see how I was. She found me lying on my bed in the dormitory, racked with pain and dazed from the trauma of what I’d been through.
‘I just want to die,’ I sobbed when I saw her. ‘What�
��s the point in going on? Nothing’s ever going to change.’
Shocked by my scratches, weals and bruises, she was trying to comfort me with a hug when her best friend Bridget rushed in.
‘Ye’d better get back to work,’ Bridget warned. ‘Sister Austin’s coming to check on ye soon.’ Seeing me, she added, ‘What’s wrong, Frances?’
‘That old witch Sister Thomas took her up to the cubbyhole again,’ Loretta said.
‘Oh no,’ said Bridget. ‘Did she hurt ye bad?’
Unable to speak, I nodded.
‘Jesus, Mary and St Joseph, this can’t go on.’
‘But we can’t do anything about it!’ I burst out as she turned to leave.
‘We could try and break out of this dump,’ Loretta said.
That stopped Bridget in her tracks. ‘How?’ she said.
‘I know some girls who got away,’ Loretta said. ‘Some got caught, but there were a few who made it to Dublin. Once you get to the South, there’s nothing the nuns can do – or the police for that matter – because you’re over the border, in another country.’
Loretta sounded serious and had obviously given it some thought. We fell silent for a few moments as the idea that we could actually escape began to take root. The thought of being free was enough to block out the likely consequences of being caught, and before long we were completely absorbed in planning our escape. Just talking and thinking about it breathed new life back into us, and I all but forgot about my aches and bruises.
‘I could get some nuns’ clothing from the laundry,’ said Bridget, who’d been working mornings in the nuns’ laundry for some months.
‘Yes! We’ll get dressed up and go out by the back gate, where the tradesmen come in,’ Loretta said. ‘Friday would be best, when the bin men come, but someone’s gonna have to distract whoever’s on the gate.’
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