‘We need to find something to break the padlocks off,’ Sinéad said.
Nothing came to mind, so I suggested leaving the collection boxes in the clearing while we had a quick search around the park. We covered them with leaves and branches to camouflage them, and confident that no one would find them, we crawled out through the bushes.
As we searched the park for something to prise them open with, Sinéad went into a fit of nervous laughter. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she pointed her finger at me and tried to say something, but I couldn’t make out what it was.
‘Your face was a real picture as you ran after me lugging that box,’ she finally managed to say.
I couldn’t help seeing the funny side of it, and we collapsed into giggles at the thought of how strange we must have appeared.
We weren’t having much luck in the park, so we wandered through the gates and up the road.
‘There wasn’t any point in taking them if we can’t get into them,’ I said, beginning to feel frustrated.
‘We could try turning them upside down and giving them a good shake,’ suggested Sinéad.
On our way back we stopped outside a little fruit and vegetable shop. The shopkeeper was nowhere to be seen, and the fruit on display looked really good. We were seriously hungry, so when Sinéad said, ‘Look out for the shopkeeper,’ I knew exactly what she was going to do. I remembered someone telling me that if you steal because you’re hungry then it’s not a sin, and I tried to hold on to that thought. As I kept an eye out for the shopkeeper, Sinéad helped herself to the biggest piece of fruit on display and ran off towards the park. I casually followed her.
I caught up with her just inside the park gates, and soon we were crawling back to our hiding place in the bushes. We didn’t have a clue what the yellow rugby-ball-shaped fruit was or what it would taste like. Sinéad had picked it simply because it looked big enough to fill us up. At least we weren’t going to starve for a while.
‘There’s a lot more people around the park now, Sinéad. We’d better stay here for a while,’ I said, although I didn’t get the feeling that anyone had called the police yet.
We inspected the melon, wondering how we were going to eat it. ‘Let’s try banging it against the collection boxes and maybe it will break the skin.’
I brushed the branches and leaves away from one of the boxes.
‘Right, then, are you ready for this?’
I held the melon as high as I could in the air, and Sinéad gave me a big grin. I banged the melon against the collection box, which only cracked the skin, so I banged it again. This time it split open and wet melon juice ran over my hands. I pulled the skin apart to reveal the fruit and seeds inside and began to scoop out the seeds with my fingers. It was a messy job, and I hoped it was all going to be worth it. The seeds fell to the ground in a sloppy mess, and I handed a large lump of melon to Sinéad. As we bit into it, the juice ran down our chins.
‘This is lovely!’ Sinéad said, and soon there was nothing left but skin.
I finished mine a few moments later. ‘That feels better.’ I rubbed my stomach.
Now we needed to try getting the money out of the boxes. It was going to be noisy, so Sinéad stood on lookout while I made the first attempt.
‘OK, Frances, it’s all clear.’
I shook the box vigorously and a few pennies fell out. I shook it some more; from the way it rattled, it sounded like there were only a few more coins inside.
‘These boxes have been emptied lately. There’s hardly any money in here,’ I said. A few more pennies dropped to the ground.
Sinéad left her lookout post and stared at the pennies on the ground. ‘That’s not enough,’ she said, like it was my fault.
Snatching the box away from me, she shook it hard. One more penny fell to the floor, and the rattling stopped. She threw the box to the ground in a fit of temper.
‘There’d better be more in the other one,’ she said. There was, but not much – some pennies, sixpences and a half-crown. ‘It’s not enough to get us on the boat,’ she said, giving the box one last shake. It was definitely empty.
‘We should have known there wasn’t much in them,’ I said, gathering up the money. ‘If they’d been full, we’d never have been able to lift them and run with them.’
We spent the rest of the day in the park, making forays out of our hideout every time the coast looked clear. It felt great not to be locked in that room back at the convent. When it started getting dark, we headed off towards the docks without really knowing what we’d do when we got there. At least we were on the move, away from the nuns.
We’d heard from the other girls that the docks were a few miles away on the other side of Belfast, so we were going to have to walk through the town centre. It felt good to be walking freely. Most of the shops had already closed or were about to close, but the pubs were open and we could hear singing coming from inside them. We stopped a couple of times for a listen. The people sounded happy; they were obviously having a good time and we wanted to soak up some of the atmosphere.
The next time we stopped a man invited us inside. We followed him into a smoke-filled bar.
‘Hello, girls, I’m Pat, would ye like a wee drink?’ he shouted over the noise of people talking and singing.
‘We haven’t got any money,’ I shouted back at him.
We looked around us. Everyone was singing now, banging loudly on the tables and bar with their bottles or fists. We’d never seen anything quite like it before.
And it’s no! Nay!
Never! No, nay, never, no more
Will I play the wild rover
No, never, no more.
Pat pointed towards some empty chairs and brought us over a glass of lemonade each. A warm, happy feeling flooded through us as we sat listening to the rest of the song. The people in the pub didn’t seem to mind at all who we were or where we’d come from. The only thing they seemed interested in was having a good time. So we felt quite safe staying there for a while, to warm up a bit.
The bar was slowly filling up with men, and I noticed that we were the only females about. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable – and protective of Sinéad – but everyone seemed very friendly, so I thought we’d probably be all right.
‘Can any of you wee girls sing a song?’ asked a man standing at the bar, drinking a big glass of black liquid.
At that, Sinéad landed me in it. ‘Frances can sing,’ she said, quick as a flash. It always amused her to see my face glow bright red with embarrassment.
The men gathered around.
‘Come on, then, give us a wee song,’ one of them said.
I was mortified and looked over at Sinéad. She was laughing at how she’d managed to manipulate the situation her way.
‘You just wait. I’ll get you back,’ I said, trying to think of a song.
Everyone was looking at me with anticipation. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to shut out my surroundings. As I started to sing, the bar fell silent.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.
From glen to glen and down the mountainside.
I sang with as much feeling as I could muster. When the first verse was over, I risked opening my eyes to see if the men were enjoying it, and as I went into the chorus, I could clearly see by the expression on their faces that they were. I relaxed myself into the song and began to enjoy singing it. It wasn’t cheerful like the songs they’d been singing earlier, but I definitely sensed that it was going down well, and by the time I’d reached the last chorus, a few of them had joined in with me.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow.
’Tis I’ll be there in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
Soon everyone was singing along with me, and when I’d finished, they all clapped. Sinéad smiled proudly. I took a sip of my drink.
‘
More! Give us another one,’ the men shouted. ‘Sing us another one, that was grand,’ said the bartender. I placed my glass on the table. I didn’t want to disappoint them, but my mind was blank. I couldn’t think of any other songs.
‘“The Wild Colonial Boy,” ‘ Sinéad whispered.
Again, everyone joined in.
There was a wild colonial boy,
Jack Duggen was his name.
He was born and reared in Ireland.
We were having a great time but knew that we couldn’t stay in the pub for long. We’d have to try to get to the docks soon, to see if there was a ferry going to England. We’d already seen a big sign for the docks with a picture of a boat on it, so we knew we didn’t have far to go.
When the barman brought us over some more lemonade and a packet of KP nuts, we thanked him gratefully. Some of the men gave me money for my singing and told me to buy some sweets with it. I counted it up on the way to the docks.
‘I don’t think we’ll have enough to get the boat, but at least we’ll be able to eat.’
There were crowds of people queuing on the quay for the ferry to England, waiting to show their tickets to a man at the bottom of a long gangplank. We noticed that the couples with children were letting them walk on ahead – up the gangplank to the boat – while they stood in the queue.
‘If we walk beside a man and woman, it might look like we’re their kids,’ Sinéad said. ‘Then, when we get to the ticket man, we’ll just run on ahead and onto the boat.’
It seemed like a good idea. I looked a lot younger than my age and Sinéad was only ten, so no one would guess we were alone.
‘Let’s find a mammy and daddy, then,’ I said.
I spotted a couple standing at the end of the queue. They looked engrossed in conversation and perhaps wouldn’t notice two girls walking along beside them. We squeezed in behind our temporary parents, and nobody paid us any attention. When we got to the ticket man, we simply carried on going. We didn’t look back, not even for a second, and ran the last bit of the plank, trying to look like a pair of normal kids who belonged on the boat.
We’d done it. We were on a huge ferry going to England. We ran around the decks looking for somewhere to hide until the boat was on its way. I was sure that we’d be OK once we left the docks. Around and around we ran until I saw a toilet door.
‘In here!’ We locked ourselves in one of the cubicles. ‘We’ll stay here until it goes,’ I said.
We were really excited and quite proud of ourselves for being so daring. The cubicle was small, and there wasn’t really space for two people, but it was clean and warm. Sinéad sat on the toilet seat, and I leant against the door. We could hear people coming and going, so we kept really quiet.
After what seemed like a long time, we heard the boat’s engines starting up. ‘We’re on our way,’ I whispered excitedly.
It felt a bit claustrophobic to be stuck in our confined space, and we were dying to get out and stretch our legs, but we could still hear people talking and toilets flushing.
‘Let’s get out of here soon,’ Sinéad said.
I gave in to her, even though my instincts told me we should stay where we were. I was worried that it would look suspicious that there weren’t any adults travelling with us. Also, I was concerned that we’d have to lie about who we really were, if anyone asked. I was no good at lying. I’d go bright red, and then they’d know I wasn’t telling the truth.
‘Come on, then,’ I said, when it sounded like everyone had gone. ‘We’ll go and find somewhere to sit. If anyone speaks to us just tell them that we’re with our mammy, and she’s gone to our cabin.’
‘OK,’ she said. She couldn’t get out of the cubicle quickly enough.
As we wandered around, we could feel the vibrations of the engines beneath our feet. We entered a bar and I saw a few empty chairs. Taking Sinéad by the arm, I led her over to them. While we made ourselves comfortable, I became aware that people were staring at us.
‘Who are you travelling with?’ asked a fat lady wearing a headscarf who was sitting in the seat opposite us.
Before Sinéad could say anything to land us in trouble, I replied, ‘We’re with our mam, she’s gone to see if she can get us a cabin.’
The woman gave us a worried look and seemed to know that I was lying, which made me feel uncomfortable.
‘We’ll be off soon,’ said the man sitting next to Sinéad. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but a few people nodded in agreement. That’s when it dawned on me. The engines were running, but the boat wasn’t moving. I started to panic. If only the boat would set off! I felt sure we’d be safe then, and I couldn’t foresee any trouble when we got off at Liverpool.
Just then I heard a man say, ‘What are your names, then?’
I looked up in the direction of the voice. Two men in police uniform loomed over me. Suddenly, I felt sick. I looked away, hoping they would disappear.
‘Could we please have your names?’ one of them said.
I couldn’t think for a moment or two. Everyone was looking at me. ‘I’m Kathleen, and this is my sister Ann,’ I said.
Are you sure that’s who you are? I think you’re the Reilly sisters. Would you come with us and answer a few questions?’
With no choice but to go with them, we stood up, feeling embarrassed. They walked us off the boat and escorted us to a portable room on the quay.
‘Now, girls, are you going to tell us who you really are? You fit the description of two sisters who ran away from Nazareth House Convent.’
Sinéad burst into tears. ‘We can’t go back there. We’ll get beaten up again,’ she sobbed.
The youngest police officer seemed concerned. ‘Come on now, don’t upset yourself. The nuns just want you brought back. They’re probably worried about you. You’ve been gone all day,’ he said kindly.
‘We wouldn’t have run away if it was a nice place to be,’ I said, tears welling up in my eyes. ‘They’re really cruel, and they beat us. They don’t care about us at all. They’re always telling us that we’ll go to Hell, that nobody wants us because we’re Reillys! Can’t you just let us get back on the boat? Please? We need to find our mammy in England.’
He glanced over at the older officer. Although he didn’t say anything, we sensed that he believed what we were saying, but the older officer slowly shook his head from side to side.
‘We can’t let you get on the boat. We’ve to deliver you back to the nuns. But we will speak to them, if you want,’ he said.
‘That would just make things worse. You don’t know what they’re like!’ I said despairingly. ‘We’ll get beaten even more, and they’ll get away with it because they’re nuns.’
I covered my face with my hands and howled. Sinéad was still crying in the seat next to me, and I wondered how much more suffering we could take before going mad. I thought about grabbing her and making a run for it through the door.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ the young officer asked, interrupting my thoughts.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, hoping to put off going back to the convent for as long as possible.
As we drank our tea, we told him about our intolerable life in the convent. He reacted with shock, but the older one seemed unmoved and didn’t make eye contact with us once. In the middle of a conversation he went off to phone the convent and let the nuns know that we’d be on our way back soon. The young officer excused himself and followed him.
I could hear him whispering about us. I heard him say that he and his wife couldn’t have children and that they’d love to have us for a while.
His colleague told him not to get involved. ‘This is the Catholic Church we’re talking about. You don’t want to take them on. They’re above the law, they do what they like.’
I felt sure that he believed us as well now.
Not long afterwards we were led out from the docks and into a police car. No one said a word on the journey back. Sinéad and I just sobbed the whole
way.
Back in the convent, we didn’t have to wait long to suffer Sister Francis’s fury. We were taken back to the room of our solitary confinement and beaten. The cane came down hard and fast, over and over again, until she was tired out. When she’d left, I tried to comfort Sinéad, but she was inconsolable.
‘I hate those bitches!’ she sobbed.
‘So do I, but one day they’ll get back what they’ve done to us. One day everyone’s going to know what they’re like. I’ll make sure of it,’ I said.
‘Nobody will believe you,’ she said dejectedly. ‘We’ll never be believed. We’re the Reillys, remember.’
CHAPTER 22
Breaking Out
It was as if the nuns were playing cat and mouse with us because the next day our prison room was left unlocked again. Within an hour we were standing on a platform at Belfast Station.
‘Let’s go to Moira and see Siobhan Murphy!’ Sinéad said.
At first I didn’t reply. Even though I’d do anything for Sinéad, I had mixed feelings about going back to the farm. Part of me wanted to see Siobhan again – she was the nearest thing to a mother I’d ever known, the only person who’d given me a hug in my entire life. On the other hand, Tom and Barry were the last people on earth I wanted to see, but since Sinéad didn’t know about Tom and Barry, and I didn’t feel I could tell her, I didn’t know what to say.
‘Please, Frances!’ Sinéad urged. ‘We’ll just go and say hello, stay for some tea and show her how much we’ve grown.’
‘OK,’ I said reluctantly. ‘As long as we don’t stay too long.’
‘Well, it’ll be better than just wandering around,’ Sinéad said.
She was right. The problem with getting out of the convent was finding somewhere to go afterwards. We’d tried our luck at the docks, but that hadn’t worked, so what else were we going to do? Anyway, I liked the thought of seeing Siobhan one last time to say goodbye.
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