Unfortunately, Sinéad and I drifted apart when she started hanging around with a gang of girls who were trouble. They thrived on aggression, and I hated to see my sister turning into a bully. I tried to talk to her about it several times, but she didn’t want to know – she was enjoying her newfound popularity and power too much. On two occasions her friends beat me up and she went along with it, just to prove her loyalty to the gang. After that I began to ignore her. I didn’t like the person she’d become.
I spent the next few years with just one thing on my mind: escape. I desperately longed to be free and tried every trick in the book to get away. Sometimes, as we rounded a corner on our daily walk, I’d duck under a hedge with another girl and run off when no one was looking. Or we’d find an excuse to go to the laundry at the back of the convent, where there was a stretch of wall out of sight of the nuns. I must have climbed over that bit of the wall fifty times.
There was never a shortage of people who wanted to go with me, but unfortunately, we kept getting caught and being brought back. One of the problems was that there were several head counts during the day, so if you went then, you’d soon be missed. The nuns would raise the alarm, and the police would be after you in no time. They even had people at the border watching out. So it was much better to go at night, when you wouldn’t be missed until the morning, but it was also much harder to escape from the dormitory than to slip away in between bells during the day.
All I thought about was getting out and no longer being beaten. My dreams for the outside world didn’t go a lot further than that, because I had almost no concept of what life could be like without the constant threat of bullying nuns and girls. At times I got very depressed and a black cloud would hang over me for days on end. But then I’d come up with another escape plan and be filled with hope again. I spent almost every waking minute trying to devise a new route out, sizing up windows and doors and observing the nuns’ routines. I just wouldn’t give up. I was desperate. The only thing I could focus on was getting beyond the walls. And the more escape attempts I made, the more I was accepted by the other girls.
I was up for trying anything. So when a girl called Marion suggested that we put the nuns out of action by lacing their evening cocoa with laxatives, I jumped at the idea.
‘If we manage to smuggle some in, it’ll have the nuns on the toilet for ages,’ she said, her face beaming with joy.
‘Let’s do it, sure!’ I said breathlessly.
Not long after that she persuaded one of her visitors to bring in three bars of laxative chocolate. I hid them under my pillow until the time came to make cocoa for the nuns on duty that evening.
At St Joseph’s none of the other girls tried to talk you out of taking risks. However much they fought or argued with you on a day-to-day basis, they would always be willing to help you escape. So this time we’d arranged for a whole load of girls to occupy all the toilets in our building so that when the nuns on duty started feeling the effects of the laxatives, they would have to go to another building to use the toilet.
It worked like a dream. The sight of the duty nuns clutching the banisters for support with their stomachs audibly rumbling and gurgling was hysterically funny. I couldn’t help laughing, even though I was nervous about climbing the wall and getting away, and watching them try to get into the girls’ toilets was hilarious. Every cubicle they knocked at was occupied, and every girl gave the same excuse: ‘Sorry, Sister, I’m really constipated, Sister.’
‘If you girls are playing games, you’ll be punished! I’m not finding this very funny.’
‘We’re not playing games, Sister, honestly, Sister.’
The duty nuns had no choice but to leave the building in search of empty toilets – and the moment they were gone, so were we. A couple of girls gave us a leg up, and soon we were over the wall and running across the field on the other side.
Marion and I ran over many empty fields until eventually we came to an old derelict house. The garden was overgrown, the windows were broken, and it looked like no one had lived there for ages. We decided that it might make a good hiding place until things had calmed down and the police had given up their search.
We walked through a broken gate and down a path to the front door. I knocked on the door just in case there was someone inside – a tramp, perhaps, using it for shelter.
‘Hello, is anyone here?’ I called out. I knocked again. ‘Hello?’
‘Come on now, Frances, who’d be living in this dump?’ Marion laughed. ‘Just look at the place. There’s been no one here for years.’
‘Well, don’t blame me if some scary old man jumps out on ye, then,’ I warned her. I didn’t like it when people made fun of me for being cautious. It was in my nature to be careful.
Marion tried the door and it opened with a creak. The house was a real dump inside, with dust and cobwebs everywhere, and rubbish strewn all over the old furniture. There was a horrible stale stench that made me want to run back outside and take my chances in the fields. The atmosphere was really spooky, too.
‘It’s disgusting,’ I said. There wasn’t anywhere to sit down without getting filthy. ‘Let’s get out of here, Marion, and just keep on the move. This place gives me the creeps.’
‘Wait,’ she said.
I followed her up the stairs into a room containing a long wooden table and chairs. She began dusting down the table with an old curtain. Suddenly, a huge spider ran across its surface. We screamed as it crawled down onto the floor and disappeared under a ragged bit of carpet, and then we collapsed into a fit of relieved giggles. Finally, the table was clear, and we climbed up to sit on top of it.
We sat very close together and talked in whispers for hours, barely able to see one another through the darkness. I couldn’t believe we were out. As night wore on, the temperature dropped dramatically, and I was glad that we’d managed to find shelter. There was no possibility of sleep, but at least we weren’t out in the fields.
Just before dawn we were disturbed by noises outside. Someone was walking about. We sat in silence, hanging on to each other’s arms, our teeth chattering with fear and cold. Torchlight flashed through the windows.
‘Oh my God, I hope that’s not the police, Marion. Let’s make a run for it now!’
‘Whoever it is doesn’t know we’re here yet. Let’s just sit quietly and they might go away,’ Marion whispered.
The front door creaked, and we heard footsteps in the house. Now they were making their way up the stairs. A torch beam shone through the door.
‘Come on now, let’s be getting you back.’
Behind the glare of the torch I could just about make out a policeman’s uniform. I gritted my teeth and swore that next time I’d get away for good.
But we always got caught, mostly because we didn’t have anywhere, or anyone, to go to. Still, I didn’t stop hoping and planning. It was the only way to survive. As time went on, I became more disobedient. I wasn’t scared of the nuns any more, and I was so used to being beaten that I could get through most of my punishments without crying, however painful they were, and the more beatings you got, the more respect the other girls gave you.
One time, a whole group of us rebelled against the new Mother Superior. Mother De Richie had summoned everyone to the refectory, where she was pacing the stage with a cane in her hand, wearing a very stern expression.
Surveying us with disgust, she said, ‘Some of you girls probably found it very amusing to steal bottles of wine from the sacristy, but I do not find it amusing and I will not stand for it! I want the girls responsible to come forward now.’
There was silence. Most of the girls knew nothing abut the missing wine and searched each other’s faces for signs of guilt. I pretended to do the same, even though I was the culprit, along with two other girls. A few weeks before, while I was cleaning the sacristy, where the altar wine was kept in a cupboard, I’d found the keys to the cupboard lying around. Half an hour later I was passing bottles of wine out of
the window to Kathleen and Mary, and we drank it during recreation. I exchanged glances with Kathleen and Mary and could almost hear them willing me not to say anything.
‘Come forward now if you’re responsible for stealing the wine from God’s house!’ Mother De Richie boomed.
A shudder went through me, but I stayed perfectly still.
All right, then, I will leave you for a while to think about the sin that has been committed against Our Lord. He will be angry with the thieves if they don’t repent, and I’m sure they’ll burn in Hell. When I return, I hope the girls involved will be ready to tell the truth. If they don’t own up, all privileges will be suspended and holidays cancelled.’
We began whispering the moment she swept out of the refectory. No one seemed bothered about the wine being stolen, but some girls were annoyed that they hadn’t got to drink any of it.
‘Whoever took it, good luck to them,’ Sadie said. ‘I’d have done the same if I had the chance.’
Everyone nodded.
‘Those nuns are all hypocrites, anyway,’ Rosemary said angrily. ‘They steal all the best food, while we live on slop. It’s not like any of us get cocoa before bed, is it? Or proper meat or fruit. They steal it all! And now they have the cheek to say that the altar wine is God’s wine, as if He’s going to be popping into the sacristy for a quick drink every now and then.’
‘Yeh!’ Sadie said. ‘It’s not bloody fair!’
‘Sure, don’t they treat us like skivvies and beat the hell out of us?’ Rosemary went on heatedly, waving a fist.
‘Yeh, they treat us like animals,’ Sadie said.
‘Yeh, and the pigs get better slop,’ I added, thinking back to the Murphys’ farm.
‘I wish we could do something about it,’ Mary said dejectedly, rubbing her stomach. ‘I’d do anything for a decent meal right now.’
‘We should make a stand and demand decent food and better treatment,’ Bernadette said.
The hall fell silent. Yes, we should, I thought. We should make a stand. It turned out that quite a few of the others were thinking the same thing.
‘We should do it right now!’ Kathleen said. ‘Let’s barricade ourselves in here until they give us what we want. It’s about time they listened to us.’
‘Let’s make a list,’ Sadie shouted.
A ripple of excitement went through the refectory.
But although everyone would have liked to have been a part of the rebellion, most girls were worried about losing their holidays. Others, like my closest friend, Patsy, were due to get out soon and couldn’t afford to jeopardise their release dates. So it was decided that the girls who weren’t going to get involved, for whatever reason, should be first in line to leave the refectory when we were given permission to go. Once they’d gone, the rest of us could shut the door behind them and barricade ourselves in.
Mother De Richie came back, and we stood to attention.
‘Is anyone going to come forward and own up?’
No one moved.
‘All right, I’m giving you until tomorrow evening, and if I don’t get the truth by then, no one will be going home for the holidays. Now get to your dormitories.’
We lined up and started to file out through the refectory door. As arranged, Rosemary was behind the last girl who needed to leave and wasted no time in slamming the door after her, leaving about a dozen of us in the refectory.
‘What’s going on in there? Open this door at once!’ Mother De Richie shouted.
‘Quick!’ Rosemary said, straining to keep the door shut.
I dragged a table across the room to stack up against it, and Sinéad pushed over a heavy trolley. As she lined the trolley up with the doorway, Sinéad’s eyes met mine and she smiled. In that moment I forgave her everything, and my resentment towards her melted away. She was my sister, after all, and I’d always felt very protective of her, maternal even. I scanned the refectory and noted that most of the girls in her crowd were absent.
By now tables, chairs and trolleys were stacked up neatly against the door. There was no way anyone could get in – or out, so it was too late for a change of heart. I could hardly believe we were doing this. It had all happened so quickly.
We could hear another nun, Sister Mary, shouting on the other side of the door. ‘You had all better be out of there by the time I’ve counted to ten!’
Kathleen started singing ‘We Shall Not Be Moved’, and the rest of us joined in. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought, and handed out some serving spoons to bang on the tables in time to the song. It was tremendously exciting to take control for once. This felt like something that would be talked about for years to come. Our spirits rose ever higher, and soon we were blasting out the chorus at the tops of our voices.
We shall not, we shall not be moved.
We shall not, we shall not be moved
Just like a tree that’s standing by the water,
We shall not be moved.
Outside the door, everything had gone quiet. Just as we were wondering what the nuns were up to, someone knocked on the kitchen hatch. We all jumped up.
‘It’s only me, open up.’ It didn’t sound like one of the nuns.
Margaret opened the hatch a fraction. ‘It’s Nula. She’s got us a pencil and some paper,’ she said.
We ran over to the hatch. ‘Where are the nuns?’ Sinéad asked.
‘They’re in the office talking about you lot,’ Nula said. ‘You’re doing great, though. The singing was fantastic; we were all laughing up in the dormitories, but the nuns looked really mad. Anyway, I’d better go before I get caught.’ She dashed off.
‘We should get some food from the kitchen while the nuns are busy,’ Marion said. ‘Who’s small enough to go in through the hatch?’
‘Frances, ye’re the smallest,’ Sinéad said. She’d always been good at volunteering me for stuff.
I climbed through the hatch and rummaged around the kitchen cupboards for food. I’d managed to pass through some bread, milk and a box of the nuns’ biscuits when I heard voices on the stairs and dived back through again. Removing one of my shoelaces, I wrapped it tightly around the hatch door handles.
‘Ye’ve done great, Frances. This box of biscuits is nearly full,’ Mary said, stuffing a chocolate biscuit into her mouth. We sat down to some milk and a biscuit each, aware that our rations might have to last a long while.
Mother De Richie banged on the door again.
‘Are you girls ready to come out?’
We kept quiet.
‘If that’s the way you want it, then I can wait much longer than you can,’ she said.
We still said nothing. We hadn’t even started on our list of demands. When she’d gone, we began discussing what should go on it. Rosemary took charge of the writing, and everyone had something to say.
‘We want another slice of bread at teatime. One isn’t enough.’
‘And a bit more butter.’
‘Yeah, there’s hardly enough for one slice.’
‘Properly cooked food, instead of the undercooked slop we get served up.’
And extra blankets.’
And proper meat.’
Rosemary wrote everything down as fast as she could. Then I asked her if she could write a note at the end saying that I owned up to taking the altar wine. I didn’t want everyone to get punished because of me. Getting home for the holidays was the only thing that kept some of the girls going. I didn’t mention Kathleen and Mary’s part in it, though. I thought it was up to them if they wanted to say anything.
‘Did ye really take it?’ Sinéad asked, looking really surprised. She was usually the one that got up to things like that. I was supposed to be the more sensible one.
‘Mother De Richie is going to kill ye when we get out of here,’ Rosemary said.
I wanted to enjoy the moment, so I changed the subject. Anyway, how are we doing with the list?’ I said.
‘It’s just about done, unless anyone can think of anything
else.’ Kathleen started to read it out. ‘Another slice of bread at teatime, more butter…’
We started laughing.
‘That’s great. Why don’t we put it through the hatch now?’ Sinéad said. She listened at the hatch doors, untied the shoelace, and Marion shoved the note through.
Early the next morning, twelve hours after we’d shut ourselves in, no one had had much sleep, but we were feeling great. We were just starting a game of I-Spy when Mother De Richie banged on the door.
‘This has gone on long enough now! You’d better come out, or things are going to be a lot worse for you when you do.’
‘We’re not coming out until our demands are met,’ Kathleen shouted. ‘There’s a list through the hatch.’
With baited breath, we listened to footsteps going through the kitchen to the hatch and then back out again.
I giggled nervously. ‘Oh my God, I wonder what they’ll do now.’
A few moments later Mother De Richie gave us her response: ‘I will not be giving in to your list of demands. I can wait as long as it takes for you to come out. You can’t stay in there forever, and you’re not going anywhere. So I’ll just wait until you get very tired or very hungry.’ There was a smugness to her voice that I didn’t like one bit. It seemed that our demands weren’t going to be taken seriously.
Shortly afterwards nature took its course and the inevitable happened. During the night we’d used a bucket for a toilet, but now someone said that they needed more than a wee. It turned out that most of us needed more than a wee. Not having thought this far ahead, we were at a loss as to what to do. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed.
Need soon turned into desperation, and then some girls began to get stomach cramps. No one wanted to give in, but time was running out. We decided to wait until everyone had gone to the hall for breakfast before trying to sneak people out to the toilet, but although we dismantled the barricade as quietly as we could, the nuns barged in the moment we turned the door handle. The rebellion was over.
Suffer The Little Children Page 23