Just as I was thinking about what I could say in my defence, she lifted her hand and slapped me across the face, knocking me against the bed and banging my head on the iron frame. Dazed, I pulled myself up again. Pain mushroomed inside my head. Tears dripped down my cheeks.
‘It was you, Reilly! You brought Nick back with you. Tears aren’t going to save you from the fires of Hell. Now here’s something to cry about!’ She began to slap and punch me around the face and head.
‘I’m sorry, Sister!’ I pleaded. It occurred to me that perhaps I’d brought the Devil back because of what Tom and Barry had done to me. Maybe I really was evil – a child of the Devil – and Sister Thomas could see it in me. It would explain why Tom and Barry did the things they did to me; maybe they saw it, too. But I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to go to Hell.
‘Get up, Reilly, or I’ll give you what for!’ she screamed. She’d stopped punching me and was now standing over me as I lay on the floor with my hands over my head.
Some of the other girls met my eye as I tried to get to my feet, but none of them were able to help, even if they’d wanted to. Sinéad stood by her bed, her head turned away from me. She couldn’t bear to watch me being used as a punchbag, but there was nothing she could do that wouldn’t make things worse.
Sister Thomas raised her hand to strike me again. ‘Had enough yet, Reilly?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ I said, wiping my face with my hands.
She lowered her arm and told me to kneel by my bed and pray until further notice.
‘Yes, Sister. Thank you, Sister.’ I knelt on the hard cold floor and blessed myself, using every ounce of energy left in me to hold back my sobs.
Sister Thomas stomped out of the dormitory. Some of the girls gave me sympathetic looks. Others, especially some seniors, carried on as if nothing had happened at all.
Are you all right, Frances?’ Kathleen asked, once the nun’s footsteps had faded into the distance.
I couldn’t reply. There was a lump in my throat, blocking my voice.
‘Don’t let her get to you. She loves picking on you. You’re not the Devil’s child. Take no notice of her.’
I gave her a nod and tried to force a smile to show that I appreciated her comforting words. The bell rang, and everyone lined up and walked out of the dormitory, leaving me alone. I was relieved, in a way, as I no longer had to put on an act and pretend to be OK. My tears started to flow freely, rolling down my face onto my dress and arms.
Using the bed for support, I pulled myself up off the floor. My head hurt and so did my body. I wiped my eyes and paced up and down between the rows of beds, trying to make sense of everything, but I couldn’t understand any of it. Why did Tom have to keep taking me into his bed when it was so obvious that I didn’t want to be there? Why didn’t the rest of the Murphys know what he was like and stop him? Why did Barry find any opportunity to get me alone and to touch me where he shouldn’t touch me, and why was I stuck in Nazareth House taking abuse from the nuns? I didn’t have any answers, just more and more questions. Eventually, I lay on my bed and closed my eyes tight, trying to calm my swirling head and blank out all the emotional and physical pain.
After about half an hour I was disturbed by the sound of voices. Whoever it was, they weren’t close yet, but I thought I’d better get myself back on the floor just in case. My face felt hot from the slaps and punches I’d received, but because mirrors weren’t allowed, I had no way of seeing the damage. Stiff with pain, I moved slowly around the bed, removing all signs that I’d been lying on it. I could still hear movement and voices, but nobody came near the dormitory for at least another hour.
With nothing to distract me, I found it impossible not to think about the farm. Once more I flashed back to it. This time I was at the sewerage works in some fields nearby, where the Murphy children often played. There was a whole group of us – Maggie Murphy, some of her brothers and a few local children – and as usual we were playing on the pipes, which spouted water out of small holes as they rotated. The trick was to stand on the pipes and hold on to the thick wire that linked them to a pole in the middle. Using one foot to push off, it was possible to make the whole contraption move around like a merry-go-round, faster and faster. We were all having fun, except for Maggie, who wouldn’t join in. She was in one of her grumpy moods. Jerome told her to stop acting jealous and come and play, but she plonked herself on the grass and refused.
After we’d tired of the merry-go-round, we moved on to a rectangular brick wall surrounding a small reservoir. Inside the wall, quite a way down, was a large warning sign that said, ‘Depth 13 Feet’. We started throwing large stones and broken bricks into the water, enjoying the glooping noises they made. Maggie was still giving me dirty looks and wouldn’t join in. She was only there because Siobhan had told her to go out and play, like everyone else.
I climbed up onto the wall and started walking along it, using my arms to balance. The others sat on the grass and watched. I loved having an audience, and while I had everyone’s attention, I decided to give them a song. Just as I’d begun singing, Maggie got up, lifted an old brick from the ground and threw it at me. I disappeared over the side of the wall and landed in the water with a huge splash.
I held my breath as I sank, but panic soon set in. I couldn’t swim and I couldn’t see the top of the water. I didn’t know how deep I’d gone and began to worry about having enough breath to get me back into the air. Thrashing my arms and legs about frantically, I tried to scramble up to the surface. My lungs felt like they would burst, and I began to think that I wasn’t going to make it, which made me panic even more.
I was about to give up the struggle when I saw daylight above me. Doing something that resembled the doggie paddle, I broke the surface and gasped fresh air into my lungs. I could hear voices above me, shouting at me, and looked up to see a row of faces watching.
‘Hang on, Frances, hang on!’ they shouted.
I searched the walls for something to grab on to, but the surfaces were too smooth to get a grip of. My arms and legs were beginning to tire.
‘Hang on, Frances, we’re going for help. Hang on there.’
I tried to stay above the water for as long as I could but soon felt myself being dragged back under. I gulped a desperate last breath of air before I sank again. I’m going to die, I thought. If I didn’t get a breath very soon, I’d be gone forever. My arms and legs thrashed about as I struggled to stay alive, but they were beginning to feel heavy.
I heard a voice in my head telling me to calm down and make a last effort to rise up. ‘Don’t panic, keep calm,’ it said. I raised my arms above my head and brought them down again, pushing against the water. With each stroke I began to move slowly upwards. The voice in my head kept saying, ‘You can do this. Don’t give up. Keep going, keep going.’ Eventually, I reached the surface and took in some air.
The others were still shouting, ‘Hang on, Frances, hang on.’
I couldn’t understand why none of them were helping me. Why didn’t they throw something down for me to hold on to? They’re going to watch me drown, I thought.
Just before I sank again, I heard someone say, ‘We’re getting help!’ I surfaced and sank, surfaced and sank again, until finally I ran out of energy. All hope of rescue faded as I plunged downwards. This is it, I thought. I had no more strength left in me. I was giving up the fight, and images of my sisters, the convent and my drowned friend Josephine flashed through my mind. But worst of all was my fear that the Devil would take me now. Sister Thomas had told me nearly every day that I’d go straight to Hell when I died, and I believed her. Deeper and deeper I sank, holding on to my last breath. Water shot up my nose and began to seep into my mouth and down my throat.
Suddenly, I felt my hair being tugged. I was moving, being pulled upwards. There was someone else in the water with me. I willed myself not to open my mouth yet, even though it felt as if I had no breath left. Now I was being pulled by my dress and began t
o move faster. At last I was back on the surface, coughing and spluttering. Above me I heard shouting and cheering. With my head supported by an unknown arm, I looked up and saw the other children’s faces. I couldn’t see my rescuer yet, but I totally trusted whoever it was not to let me sink back into the water, so I allowed myself to be held for a few minutes until I’d regained my strength and was breathing properly.
The next thing I knew a voice was asking, ‘Frances, are you all right?’ and I felt my wet hair being pushed back off my face. I opened my eyes to sunlight. The other children were kneeling around me. There was no more need for panic. I was out of the water and breathing normally. I could relax.
Shivering with cold, I looked around at the worried faces and managed a small smile. Then I caught sight of Maggie, who seemed to be more concerned about the trouble she was in than anything else. I heard her say to her brothers, ‘What am I going to do? Please don’t tell anyone.’ I looked away. Right now I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. And then my eyes were drawn to a teenage boy, about fifteen years old, who was also dripping wet. I recognised him as Francy, who lived next to the shop.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said.
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Ye’re welcome, but ye shouldn’t go playing around there any more!’ He sounded kind, concerned.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t! I don’t want to be anywhere near water ever again!’ I said.
‘Ye’re shivering, Frances,’ he said. ‘Stay there, and we’ll collect some sticks and make a fire. Yous boys, get as many sticks as ye can carry! I’ll go to my house and come back with some towels and matches.’ The boys went off to gather wood.
Francy was soon back wearing a dry set of clothes. He handed me a large bath towel. ‘Here ye go, put this round ye and get yer wet things off till we get them dry for ye.’
I did as he said and soon felt much better, wrapped in the big dry towel.
‘I’ll wring these out for you, Frances,’ said Maggie, trying to sound like she cared. She began squeezing the water out of my clothes, and when she was done, she shook them hard to remove the creases.
The boys arranged their sticks and logs into a pile, and a fire was soon blazing, crackling and sparking to start with, before flaring up and giving off a glorious heat. I warmed myself, while the boys went off to gather more wood.
Maggie held my wet clothes close to the fire, turning them occasionally. She kept smiling at me, trying to suck up, but I wouldn’t look at her. I knew she wasn’t being genuine because she’d never been nice to me before. It was just that she didn’t want to get into trouble for throwing the brick. As I watched the steam rise from my clothes, I kept thinking how lucky I was to be alive.
Francy came back with some more wood and built up the fire. I admired him for his bravery and wished I had some way of thanking him. I didn’t have anything to give him – no money or belongings – so I promised myself that I’d remember what he’d done forever, and maybe one day I’d be able to repay him.
Siobhan was beaming when we finally arrived at the back door for dinner. ‘Yous have been out playing for a long time, I bet ye’re all starving.’
‘Yes!’ we yelled, pulling off our shoes. I slipped to the bedroom and changed my clothes, and then we all sat down to one of Siobhan’s lovely dinners.
‘Sinéad has been helping me make a pie,’ Siobhan said.
I looked over at my wee sister, whose hair and dress were covered in flour. She definitely looked like she’d been having fun.
Suddenly, I was jolted back into the present by the sound of girls coming back from the refectory. I was still kneeling by the bed, and my knees ached. Sinéad came over to see how I was doing.
‘Why don’t ye get up and stretch your legs for a while? Sister Thomas isn’t here yet,’ she said.
Yeh! I’ll look out for her, Frances,’ Mary said. ‘Get yerself up for a wee while.’
I struggled to my feet. It was hard to straighten my legs. Slowly, I felt the blood beginning to circulate again, the sensation of pins and needles. ‘Oh my God, that’s better!’ I sat on the bed rubbing my legs with Sinéad next to me, while Mary kept watch at the dormitory door.
‘Are ye OK, Frances?’ Sinéad said.
‘Yeh. I should be used to it by now. I hate her so much. I wonder how she’d like it.’
‘Ye won’t do anything stupid, will ye, Frances?’ Sinéad said.
‘Don’t worry. I don’t want another beating. I just wish we could get out. I hate this place.’
Bernadette joined Sinéad and me on the bed. She chatted away endlessly, trying hard to distract me and to make me laugh.
‘Quick! She’s coming,’ Mary shouted.
I got back onto my knees, and the others moved over to their beds.
Sister Thomas told everyone to get ready for bed, so I stood up. ‘Not you, Reilly! Get yourself down to the porch, where you’ll find shoes to be polished. That should keep you busy for the night. And if I can’t see my face in them when you’ve finished, you’ll do them all again. You will not go to bed until they are done. Do you understand me, Reilly!’
‘Yes, Sister.’
I left the dormitory and went downstairs to the bottom landing, which felt eerie with no one around. I walked through the dark hall past the stage and lockers until I came to the cold, dimly lit porch. Before me was a mountain of black shoes. Alongside them were shoe polish and brushes.
The sight of all those shoes made me cry. I was never going to finish polishing them by morning. I sat on the cold stone floor and pulled my dress down over my knees. Remembering a story that Siobhan had told me about Rumpulstiltskin, I felt a bit like the miller’s daughter who was set the task of spinning straw into gold.
‘I’d better get started on these before Sister Thomas comes to spy on me,’ I said aloud. My voice echoed, and it struck me that I might be going a bit mad, talking to myself like that.
Picking out six pairs of shoes at a time, I applied the polish and left them in rows to dry before I shined them off later. I worked hard to get them done properly. I was determined not to give Sister Thomas a reason for making me do them again. I took care to apply the polish evenly on each shoe, checking and rechecking it before putting it down. It was tiring work, but I had to keep moving to keep myself awake. As I got into a rhythm, I began humming a song, rocking from side to side to keep warm. Inevitably, the floor’s coldness seeped through my body to my bones. It was going to be a long night. Still, I just had to get on with it. There was no point in feeling sorry for myself.
I kept up a steady pace as the hours passed, brushing shoes till they shone and finishing off with a rag to get that extra gleam. The rows of shoes I’d already done looked as good as new, but there were still loads more to do.
I finished another row and tried to stand up, but my legs had stiffened up painfully with the cold. I needed to stop working and move around to get some feeling back into my legs, but Sister Thomas would go mad at me if I didn’t finish in time. I tried to stand up again. Unbearably sharp pains shot through my legs. I rubbed them hard to get the life back into them and, once I’d got to my feet, tried running on the spot. It seemed to be working; the pain was less intense. I’ll just have to go faster when I sit back down, I thought to myself.
I polished shoes all night, with occasional breaks to get my circulation going again. I was numb with cold, exhausted and aching all over by the time I’d finished. Standing up and stretching, I noticed that there was daylight coming in through the windows. I had no idea what time it was. Taking one last look to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I turned out the light and made my way back to the dormitory, hoping to get some rest before the morning bell rang. Creeping in, I put on my nightdress and got into bed. In no time I was asleep.
When Sister Thomas rang the bell, I struggled out of bed and onto the floor for prayers. My eyes were stinging and watering. During prayers I found it hard to focus, but I was aware of the nun’s eyes on me s
o did my best to keep up.
‘I’m surprised you managed to get to bed, Reilly!’ she said when prayers were over. ‘I hope you did a good job of polishing those shoes. I’ll be inspecting them after Mass, and I expect them to be perfect.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
I knew that I wouldn’t be able to take much more abuse without cracking up. I wasn’t sure what would happen if the nuns thought I’d gone mad. It wouldn’t be good, that much I knew. I could end up in the Muckamore nuthouse, and I’d heard some terrible stories about what happened to the girls who were sent there. So, whatever I did, I had to stay sane, even though I was living in an insane world.
Over the next few weeks I struggled to keep the farm out of my mind. I didn’t want to lose the good memories because I had so few of them in the convent, but the other memories were so awful that I had to try to block them out. But much worse than the memories were the flashbacks, which I couldn’t control. Whenever I had a flashback, I relived the pain I’d felt at the time all over again. There seemed to be nothing I could do. Finally, I told the priest about Tom and Barry’s abuse at confession. He told me to say the Rosary as a penance, which made me feel even more like it had been my fault.
CHAPTER 18
Taking on a Senior
It had been pouring with rain all day, and Sister Kevin, who was on recreation duty, told us to go into the hall because it was too wet to play outside. Chrissie and I were first in, and we sat down on a row of chairs at the back. Soon the other chairs were all taken by seniors.
Now, there was an unwritten rule in the convent that if a senior wanted a chair, then a junior got up without being asked. Everybody knew it, and most of the juniors automatically sat on the floor.
Suffer The Little Children Page 17