The Convent

by Maureen McCarthy

  ‘Whatever happens, I’m not going in there,’ he said awkwardly, ‘I want to make that clear. I’m not a good swimmer.’

  ‘That’s comforting,’ I snapped. Fucking shit.

  ‘But I’ll go and alert someone if you like?’ he added.

  We both turned back to the black water.

  ‘Can you see any sign of her?’ I mumbled desperately.

  ‘No. I’ll go back up and raise the alarm then?’

  ‘Okay.’

  It was while I was watching the three of them head back up the track that I felt it coming on, although I didn’t immediately recognise it for what it was. It crossed my mind that someone might have dropped a slow-acting something in my drink, or that I was having some kind of heart attack. Anything other than being pulled backwards into no-man’s-land. But it was dread filling me.

  In my dreams I was always alone, abandoned on a railway platform, or an empty house, a shopping centre with everyone else moving slowly away from me. Mum and Dad and Stella. I call out, wave, scream, but no one hears me.

  First Luke, then Det and now those three guys. What is it about me?

  In my madness – becuase that’s what it was, madness – I decided that if Det was going to drown, then so would I. I pulled off my coat, my jeans and jumper and ran down to the water in my underwear. The first icy wave across my feet took my breath away and the next one was even worse. No. I can’t do this. Yet somehow the dread pushed me forward. One step at a time, I told myself when every instinct told me to retreat. One step at a time.

  I did it. I actually made myself go in. Filled with blind terror I plunged under the freezing water, gasping, spluttering and shrieking, and then, like Det, I started swimming straight out. All thoughts of the dangerous creatures hiding under the waves faded. I swam and I swam and as my blood cooled so did the terrible racing panic. But I still couldn’t see Det. I looked back to the beach, just able to see the three figures making their way up the track in the moonlight. The first two were almost at the top of the cliff face and I guessed it was Walter about halfway up. Cowards! But it didn’t matter so much anymore. I’d come back into myself and knew who I was again. Still treading water, I watched them.

  Then I saw a figure stumbling out of the water and running along the beach. Det. Had to be. A shot of pure elation raced through me, but before I had a chance to savour it properly a wave out of nowhere picked me up and threw me back into the shallows. In the process I lost my pants, scraped my knee badly and took in a great mouthful of water, but I was able to stumble to my feet.

  ‘Peach, you hero!’ Det was screaming as she rushed into the water to help me out. ‘You did it! I knew you would. We both did it! Wasn’t it just so fucking unbelievable?’

  I was numb with cold, half blind, there was water coming out of my nose and my eyes were stinging like crazy.

  ‘Shut up!’ I spluttered.

  ‘You fucking little hero!’ She screamed and put both arms around me and carried me back to where our clothes were. ‘That was the biggest buzz I’ve ever had in my whole life. Thank you, sweet Peach, for making me come!’ She was drying me off with her own clothes by this stage. The special shirt she bought for the party was soaking within a minute. I wanted to kill her. I did. Seriously. She was a maniac.

  ‘Stop it!’ I said, pushing her away. ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘Okay, okay!’

  Teeth chattering, we put on our jeans and coats, picked up our boots and headed up the track.

  It was hard going, but less stressful than coming down. In spite of being a smoker, Det led the way. By the time we reached the top we’d warmed up a bit and I was feeling more reasonable. We stood under the darkness of the trees and tried to tidy ourselves a bit. Det grinned at me in the moonlight, such delight in her face that I hadn’t the heart to stay mad at her. We both looked like drowned rats but some of her exhilaration bounced onto me.

  ‘We could have drowned,’ I said.

  ‘As if!’ She poked me in the ribs, then looked past me towards the house and frowned. ‘Is that your boyfriend over there?’

  I looked up and saw Fluke and the girl looking into each other’s faces, arms around each other. We were well hidden by the trees and they obviously hadn’t seen us yet. They pulled apart and started walking hand in hand down through the garden towards us.

  ‘Hey!’ Det shouted. ‘Over here!’

  I watched him let go of her hand, take a few steps away and look around, trying to locate where the voice had come from.

  ‘Who is she?’ Det muttered.

  I didn’t answer. My heart was hammering in my chest, so loud I figured it could be heard.

  He came towards us, smiling, with the girl close behind.

  ‘What happened to you two?’ He reached one hand out to touch my hair and my wet clothes but I ducked away. ‘We were just on our way down to join you.’ The horrible girl in green was staring from one to the other of us.

  ‘Did you actually go in the water?’ she asked incredulously.

  Det laughed. Fluke shook his head and tried to touch me again but I moved away again.

  Det must have picked up on the tension between us. She pulled away. ‘I need to get dry,’ she said, stumbling off towards the house. ‘Going to see if I can snatch a shower,’ she called back. ‘You need to warm up too, Peach. Soon.’

  ‘Okay.’

  There was so much I wanted to say, but not with the green insect there so I said nothing. Fluke moved over to me again.

  ‘Peach? We were … I was just about to …’ ‘Piss off,’ I hissed furiously.

  ‘Listen, it’s not what you think.’

  ‘How do you know what I think?’ I was so furious I could have hit him.

  I ran after Det and when I caught up I thrust my arm through hers and we marched off across the lawn.

  ‘Hey,’ she said as we reached the decking, ‘who the hell is that chick?’

  But I didn’t answer. I went inside to look for Nick.

  I found him standing inside the back porch talking with some other guy. ‘Are you okay to drive? Can you take me home, Nick?’

  ‘What, now?’ He took in my bedraggled appearance.

  ‘Yeah, now.’

  He looked at his watch. Then back at me. ‘Should be fine,’ he said, after a pause. ‘I’ll ask Dicko for the Honda.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Det was watching this, and I think she was really upset, but I didn’t care.

  ‘You want me to come with you?’ she asked.

  I shook my head. ‘No, thanks.’

  I slipped into one of the bathrooms to clean up a bit and wash the salty water from my face and hands and then stared at myself in the mirror above the sink. I looked so freaked-out that I shrank from my own image. My face was peaked and white. Bits of dirt, twig and seaweed had attached themselves to the clumps of soggy hair hanging about my neck. My blue eyes were the only things I fully recognised. Even so, the red rims and smudges of black mascara made me look half mad. I felt a bit like one of Shakespeare’s witches.

  Nick was waiting for me in the car when I got outside again. I saw Fluke standing nearby too, this time without the girl.

  ‘Why are you going?’ He tried to grab me, but I slipped under his arm. ‘Come on, Peach!’

  ‘Don’t,’ I snapped furiously as I got into the car.

  Within moments we were sliding through the front gates. I turned at the last moment to see him standing there staring after us, and this incredible feeling of loss exploded inside me. Within a minute it had seeped out into all the outlying areas of my body, filling every nerve ending that only a few hours before had been tingling with excitement and joy.

  I cried on and off most of the way back, and Nick was the best. He hardly said anything, just kept the music rolling, one CD after another, all of them beyond poxy. Dicko’s mum surely had the worst musical taste in the universe, but I didn’t care. Anything was better than silence. Every now and again Nick smacked my knee.


  ‘Hey, Peach, you’re going to love this one.’ And it would be Sinatra or Rod Stewart or early Madonna. Then he found a little stash of old musicals. Hair. Sweet Charity and The Sound of Music.

  And by the time we hit the city we were both singing along with the words, and although I was still crying I was laughing too.

  It was after three when he pulled up outside my house.

  ‘You got your key?’

  ‘Yep.’

  He got out and saw me to the door.

  ‘I love you, Nick,’ I said as we hugged each other.

  ‘That’s what they all say.’ He pushed me inside. ‘Listen, have a hot shower and go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

  ‘Okay.’ So that’s what I did.

  Over the next few days Fluke rang and sent texts, then he called around. He spilt it out on our front doorstep. The girl had been his first girlfriend, they’d grown up together, both of them foster kids in the same house for a while. Both their mothers had bailed. He had deep feelings for her, but there was nothing between them anymore. Hadn’t been anything between them for years. Yeah, of course he loved her. He would never lie to me.

  He loved her. That was the part I heard.

  I understand all this on one level, but every time I think about it, I am flung back to that night on the beach, the full moon, those two in the kitchen, the blank look, the terror, the icy water, the wanting to die and … I just can’t.

  Fluke and me are finished.

  Cecilia

  Breda tapped on Cecilia’s door. ‘Tea before I hit the road for work?’

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ Cecilia called back. She lay there feeling a little groggy but luxuriating in the cosiness of the room and warmth of Breda’s welcome. She sat up when Breda came in with two cups of tea and a thick slice of buttered toast.

  ‘So, how did you sleep?’

  ‘Good. Only woke once with my dream but then went straight back.’

  ‘A man?’ Breda grinned.

  ‘I wish,’ Cecilia smiled, ‘always a baby.’

  ‘Oh?’ Breda sat on the end of the bed.

  So Cecilia told her about the mixed-up dream of being back in the convent on the first day and being filled with anxiety about the baby.

  Breda listened intently.‘Are you worried about your daughter?’

  ‘You know, Breda, I can’t even answer that question.’ Cecilia sighed. ‘I don’t know the first thing about myself.’

  ‘None of us do, kid.’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘I just muddle through each day,’ Breda said, ‘like most people.’

  They sat for a while in silence.

  ‘Do you think I’m crazy to want to find her?’

  ‘Yeah. But that won’t stop you will it?’

  ‘You’re a nurse, Breda. What do I do first? Is there some place I go? A form I have to fill out? I was so crazy when she was born that I didn’t even want her to know my name. Imagine how she’ll feel seeing that when she tries to find out about her origins.’

  ‘If she does.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘She might not … want to find out anything.’

  Cecilia tried not to be shocked by this. ‘I know she might not ever want to meet me, but she would probably still want to know basic stuff, even for health reasons.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Breda shrugged.

  ‘So what do I do?’

  Breda sighed and looked down at her mug of tea and then she looked at Cecilia.

  ‘Think about doing nothing for a while,’ she said quietly. ‘Find your feet. Get a job. Catch up with your family and then … see how you feel.’

  ‘She is my family. She—’

  ‘No, sweetheart.’ Breda reached out and touched her hand, ‘She’s not your family.’

  Cecilia looked away, the old familiar weight settling down into her chest, the awful heaviness of having failed at every important juncture of her life.

  ‘You think that it is wrong of me to want …?’

  ‘Good God, no. Nothing is wrong, Nuncie!’

  ‘So where do I start?’

  Breda frowned and picked up her tea and took a couple of sips.

  ‘I know where she is,’ she said softly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s at the convent.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mad, isn’t it?’ Breda shook her head as though she couldn’t believe it herself.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘She works there.’

  ‘But last I heard it had been sold to developers.’

  ‘No, no, it’s all markets and artist studios and cafes now. Your daughter works in a cafe.’ Breda stood up. ‘I’m not sure if I should have told you that. You’ve got to promise me that you won’t do anything silly. You’ve got to go through the right channels.’

  Cecilia’s heart felt like a tennis ball belting against a brick wall. ‘What else can you tell me?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘How do you know it’s her, then?’

  Breda looked at her watch.

  ‘I have to go to work. Can we talk about this when I get home?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Breda bent to kiss the top of her head. ‘See you around five, then.’ When Breda was at the door she turned around.

  ‘Relax. Go for a nice walk. Reacquaint yourself with your country.’ She smiled. ‘Have coffee in the little place around the corner and just try to … enjoy yourself and … go easy. I promise we’ll talk.’

  ‘What does she look like?’ Cecilia whispered.

  ‘Just like you.’

  ‘Have you spoken to her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you … do you know her name?’

  ‘Perpetua.’

  And they both smiled.

  Then Breda disappeared out the door, closing it softly behind her. Cecilia lay in the warm bed listening to her friend running around before leaving. The front door closed and Cecilia was alone in the house. She sat up and picked up the cup of tea.

  Of course she knew she could make no claim on the girl. Whatever her feelings, the child didn’t belong to her and any connection had been broken the day she’d willingly given her away. Except …

  It was Cecilia who’d carried her for nine months inside her own body. It was Cecilia who had pushed her out into the world. It was Cecilia who’d first held the tiny squirming body in her arms and watched in wonder as the child’s eyes opened and she calmly surveyed her mother’s face. No one else’s. She was the child’s mother. And so she had the most fundamental claim of all.

  Over the next week Cecilia and Breda caught up properly.

  ‘What about that girl, Ida?’ Cecilia wanted to know. ‘Did you really run away with her?’

  Breda nodded. ‘I knew I was going to have to leave or else I’d go insane. We planned it together.’

  ‘But she was a laundry girl!’ Cecilia said incredulously. ‘How could you possibly have confided in her?’

  ‘I don’t know how it happened.’ Breda shrugged. ‘But she was bright and funny and so unhappy. One night I just took the risk and told her I was thinking of nicking off. I asked her if she wanted to come with me.’

  ‘But how did you know you could trust her?’

  ‘Gut instinct.’

  ‘How old was she?’

  ‘Twenty-three. She had no family or friends to look out for her. And none of us bothered to tell her that she was actually free to leave. Isn’t that just so … incredible?’

  ‘She wouldn’t have had anywhere to go.’

  ‘True, but … it was criminal what went on there, Cecilia. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘At least she had a roof over her head and three meals a day,’ Cecilia muttered. ‘It beat being on the streets or being raped by your stepfather. So many of them came from that kind of thing.’

  ‘I know, but she was a bright young girl and the only education she got was folding up clothes!’

  ‘Yes.’ Cecilia
sighed and looked away. It seemed there were many ways to look at just about everything. ‘So what happened when you got out?’

  ‘We were lovers.’ Breda was laughing. ‘My first lover was a woman. I’m rather proud of that.’

  Cecilia’s mouth fell open in shock.

  ‘It turned out that neither of us was particularly that way inclined in the end, but that didn’t matter. We were lonely and confused and … it was good, anyway. Don’t look so damned stunned!’

  ‘Do I? I’m sorry … What happened?’

  ‘After a couple of years we just grew apart and then I met my darling Mike, the love of my life, and I started having kids.’

  ‘Do you ever feel angry about what we went through, Breda? All the wasted years?’

  ‘No!’ Breda laughed. ‘I’m over the angry stage and the sad stage and the I-could-have-done-so-much-more-with-my-twenties stage. I’m actually incredibly grateful for those years.’

  ‘Grateful?’

  ‘How many people can say they had our experience, Nuncie? I was on a quest for holiness and so were you. It was a worthwhile quest. Don’t you think?’

  Cecilia could only stare at her.

  ‘And I did get closer to God,’ Breda said emphatically. ‘And I’ve never lost that. How about you?’

  Cecilia shook her head.

  ‘Come on, Nuncie! You were so devout. What happened to you?’

  Cecilia tried to explain how she didn’t know what had happened to the Cecilia that Breda had known back then. She didn’t know if there was much left of her at all. ‘So, the child’s father?’ Breda asked mildly.

  ‘Peter.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me about him?’

  ‘He was a priest,’ Cecilia blurted out. ‘My daughter’s father was a Colombian priest.’

  Breda sank her head into her hands.

  ‘Oh jeez, Nuncie,’ she groaned from behind her fingers. ‘You poor darling. And you were in love?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘And him?’

  ‘Yes. Yes. I believe he loved me too.’

  ‘So … Is he still a priest?’

  ‘As far as I know,’ Cecilia nodded.

  ‘Where?’