The Magdalen Girls

by V. S. Alexander

  Sister Ruth pointed to Teagan. “You heard the Mother. Get busy. Mr. Roche will give you a bucket and a mop.”

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth took Nora by the arm and led her through the laundry to the stairs. “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a big mess this time. Didn’t anyone teach you the rules of the game?”

  Nora nodded. “I guess I’ve never played fair.”

  The nun shook her head. “And look where it got you—another night in the Penitent’s Room.”

  Nora clutched the railing as they walked up the stairs. “Would you be good enough to get me a glass of water before you lock me up? I’m feeling parched.”

  “I suppose I could do that,” Sister Mary-Elizabeth said. “No need to punish the baby.”

  They stopped outside the door to the Penitent’s Room. Sister Mary-Elizabeth unlocked it with her key. Nora stepped inside and sat on the stool. The door closed, sealing the darkness over her. She flicked the vomit from her caked lips. It wasn’t so bad in the Penitent’s Room anymore, she thought, as she waited for the nun to return. Maybe I’m getting used to it. I’ll be spending the rest of me life in the dark. She patted her stomach and made a vow: Whatever happens, I want you to have a better life than me. I’ll do me best for you. She closed her eyes and thought of a cooling draught of water.

  * * *

  Sister Anne stripped off the habit and threw it at the door. This one would have to be thrown out, like the old ones that had fallen apart. She opened the wardrobe, found a clean habit, and slipped it on. She sat at her desk and gazed out the window, looking at the bare branches of the oaks and the dull sky, the light slowly decaying everything to monochrome. Spring could not come soon enough. When she was a child, she had dreamed of going to the Caribbean or Bermuda to spend winter days on sun-splashed beaches, with nothing to do but swim in the cerulean waters and watch the puffy clouds slip by. But that dream had never been fulfilled. Family circumstances had made it impossible to take a holiday outside of Ireland. Even a few days off in Dublin were a luxury for the family.

  She tried to empty her mind of thoughts about the penitent. Monica was no good. She deserved her time in the Room, to consider her sin, even though she was pregnant. If her sister had considered her sin, perhaps she wouldn’t have died in childbirth. God’s punishment for the sinner could be harsh. Contemplation. Contemplation is good for the soul. At least the Buddhists, with their hideous excuse for a religion, got something right. She would release Monica in the morning after a night of “contemplation.”

  She didn’t feel like praying, and instead she picked up a book of religious verse. She thumbed through the book, thinking it would calm her nerves, but another voice called to her. Another cut and the pain will be gone. The deeper the cut, the better you will feel. She slammed the book on the table and shouted, “No!” Her cry rattled against the window and dissipated in the emptiness of the room. The blades were no good today; the thought scared her. What if she cut too deep?

  A feeble knock broke her daydreams. Sister Anne stood up, straightened her habit, and turned to the door. “Come in.”

  Sister Rose, looking like an old crane, stepped inside. “Sister Mary-Elizabeth wanted me to tell you that everything has been taken care of before tea, Mother. Monica is in the Penitent’s Room, and Teresa is attending to her cleaning.”

  “Good.” Sister Anne pointed to the soiled habit lying near the door. “Take that away and see that it’s destroyed.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Sister Rose bowed and then lifted the stained garment. The old nun seemed so brittle Sister Anne thought she might snap in half.

  “One more thing,” Sister Anne said. “Bring Teresa and Lea to me. I need to talk to them, and be sure to tell Sisters Mary-Elizabeth and Ruth not to let Teresa eat until she has washed all the floors. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mother.” The nun backed away and closed the door.

  Sister Anne sat at her desk and waited for the girls. After a few minutes, the same weak knock came. “Enter,” Sister Anne said, without much enthusiasm, as she turned her chair. The three entered the room and stood in front of her. She ordered Sister Rose to wait outside until she had finished with the girls.

  She studied them. Teresa was still pretty, if not thinner than when she had arrived. Her skin seemed lighter; her color had faded over the months. None of the Magdalens saw much of the sun. Still, she had a defiant look about her. The grim determination set in her jaw, and her erect posture, reminded her of another woman she had known. Lea, on the other hand, looked like a girl who would forever struggle to find a place in the world. Sister Anne knew Lea was smart and artistic—maybe too bright for her own good. She had known people like that. Brilliant students who, when it came to living, couldn’t figure out how to light a stove, let alone raise a family. Often they were stunted emotionally by their own pain. Lea, with her large eyes and long neck, gave the appearance of a fragile being, one not meant for this world. A push and she would be over the edge. It struck Sister Anne that Lea’s vulnerability was the reason she had liked the girl from the beginning. It was a secret bond between them, but not one to be cultivated, only exploited.

  “You must answer me honestly,” Sister Anne said. “I will know if you’re lying.”

  Teresa smiled, but a smirk simmered underneath.

  “I will ask you only once.” She lifted the silver crucifix that hung from her sash. “Did either of you know that Monica was pregnant?”

  They stood silent before her. She thought Lea looked perplexed by her question, but wasn’t entirely certain of her guilt. The girl could just as easily have been sad that Monica had been sent to the Penitent’s Room.

  Teresa glanced at Lea. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “Come now,” she coaxed. “You both knew.”

  Neither answered her. Lea shuffled her feet and looked out the window. Teresa stood silent.

  “Talk,” she ordered, but neither obeyed. Sister Anne stared at them for a minute, deciding what to do. She didn’t want to put them in the Penitent’s Room with Monica. Lea was a hopeless case, a child really. But Teresa was another matter. She doubted her innocence, but she had no firm evidence. The Mother Superior called out for Sister Rose.

  The elderly nun opened the door.

  “Take them back to their work,” she ordered.

  They left her room, and soon she was sitting alone as dusk encircled the convent with its indigo light.

  She lit a fire to break the chill. She had hoped to sever the bond between them, to ascertain the father of Monica’s child so she could report him to the Church. But it was no use today. She was sure of one fact, however: Neither girl had spoken, so neither one had lied.

  * * *

  Nora couldn’t see the glass in her hand, but she could feel its cold slickness after she drank the water. Sister Mary-Elizabeth had been kind and brought her an apple, as well. She put it in her apron pocket to eat later when she was sure she’d be hungry. She stared into the dark. Swirling patterns of lights and stars formed in her eyes. The faces of her friends, Teagan and Lea, popped out of the wall. Both smiled at her in a silly way and she grinned back, although no one was there to see her brief happiness.

  Would death be easier, more welcome, than sitting in this torturous room? Or was death like this? She shivered, as if a cold hand had grasped her shoulder, and she jerked backward expecting to see the Grim Reaper, but the void that stretched behind her was black.

  She took the last sip from the glass and ran her fingers over its surface once more. Sister Mary-Elizabeth had made a mistake, one that could be fatal. Sister Anne would be furious if a Magdalen committed suicide in the Penitent’s Room. She could toss the glass against the granite, take a shard, and cut deeply into her wrist. By the time the nuns found her, she would be dead. But her child would be dead, too. Her baby didn’t deserve to die because of what she had done. Nora placed the glass on the floor and closed her eyes. She needed sleep.

  Sister Ruth had spat at her as
Sister Mary-Elizabeth led her away from the laundry. “Cast out the harlot from your heart!” The words rang in her ears as Sister Ruth’s contorted mouth spoke them over and over again in her head: Harlot, harlot, harlot! I must be one.

  She slapped herself and shook her head. What is happening? I can’t give up. I won’t let them beat me.

  A sickening wave of exhaustion washed over her. She scooted back on the stool, slumping against the rocky surface of the wall. A twinge hit her stomach. Did the baby just kick? It could have, although she was only three months into her pregnancy. Maybe she had imagined it.

  A tiny point of light formed in her eyes, and like the other swirls and stars she had seen before, she expected this one to vanish. It grew, however, from a dot to a spreading aura that filled her eyes. She blinked, hoping to rid herself of the uncomfortable glare—it was blinding—creeping toward her from the door. Instead of fading, it grew brighter. She held her eyes open, thinking her vision had somehow been compromised by the darkness, but the light was there, growing, filling the room with its power. The walls came into focus, even the white scars, the scratches of the penitents before her. The glass that Sister Mary-Elizabeth had given her lit up like a prism on the floor.

  The room exploded in a rainbow of color.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she gasped. A beautiful lady was standing before her, weeping, tears flowing from her eyes. The lady was dressed in a brilliant white gown, and she held a white rose in her hands. A blue veil covered her head and fell in silky waves down her sides.

  Nora opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The woman’s tears fell upon her apron and their warmth spread throughout her body. She felt as if she were sitting in her favorite spot in the park on a warm spring day, the sunlight enlivening her, filling her with joy, vanquishing the winter cold. Fear drained out of her as the woman held out her hand. She wanted Nora to take the rose.

  Nora grasped the flower and felt its firm, thorny stem, the downy softness of its white petals. A shock coursed through her right arm and shoulders before settling in her heart. She thought it would explode with happiness—but the feeling was more than happiness. Ecstasy. She knew the word, but had never experienced it, had never truly known what it meant. Every nerve in her body was on fire with joy. There was no pain to be found anywhere, in the glowing room, in the convent, perhaps nowhere on earth. All was peace and happiness. She luxuriated in its love.

  The lady smiled and the tears stopped. Nora took the woman’s hand, kissed it, and the room swirled away. She closed her eyes and sank into a whirlpool of light.

  * * *

  A strange feeling struck Lea at evening prayers. She viewed her time in the chapel, after four years, as a meditation rather than a supplication before the altar. Instead of praying, head bowed, legs on the kneeler, as most of the Magdalens did, she would focus on the candles in the room and let her mind roam free. She didn’t consider it an escape, but a chance to relax from her art. The room comforted her with its wavering yellow light, the smell of burning wax, the murmur of muttered prayers.

  But this evening was different. Something extraordinary had happened in the Penitent’s Room, next to the chapel. She knew it as resolutely as she knew those small bundles had been buried in the yard, as certainly as she had seen Jesus on the lawn. The feeling crept over her as she thought of nothing in particular, the sensation of a force so powerful it could rend open the heavens. It wasn’t ominous or evil; on the contrary, joy crawled up her spine, and gooseflesh prickled her arms. It was a woman, the Virgin, garbed in white, crying for her friend Nora. The vision stayed with her for about a minute and then disappeared into the vapor, leaving Lea spent but tingling in ecstasy.

  She walked with the others after prayers, all the Magdalens headed to their sleeping quarters above. Sister Mary-Elizabeth led the way this evening. The usually affable nun seemed out of sorts to Lea, with little patience for the girls. The nun scowled when she touched her arm. Lea was uncertain whether she should bother her, but decided to recount her experience in the chapel despite the nun’s mood.

  “What is it, child?” The nun stared at her, irritated.

  “Did you feel anything at prayers, Sister Mary-Elizabeth?” She felt foolish asking the question.

  “Outside of my usual lumbago on these cold evenings, no.” She stopped on the landing to let the Magdalens pass. “Let me tell you, I’ve had my fill of this day, to be sure. I’m ready to put you all to bed and crawl into mine.” She shook her head.

  “Who’s in the Penitent’s Room?” Lea asked.

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth held her hand to her forehead in disgust. “What’s it to you? Has she done something else I should know about? She gets into such trouble.” The nun relaxed a bit and lowered her hand. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know anything about what went on today in the laundry. Well, good for you, but your friend Nora—Monica—is in the room.”

  The other Magdalens disappeared into the toilet or the garret, leaving Sister Mary-Elizabeth and Lea standing under the glare of an overhead light.

  “I have a confession to make, Sister,” Lea said.

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m a nun, Lea, not a priest.”

  “No, it’s not that. Sometimes I see things that others don’t.”

  The nun smiled. “Is that all that’s bothering you? We know you do, even the Mother Superior—we’ve come to expect it.” She turned and started to walk away.

  “I’ve seen the children buried in the yard. Sometimes I see them at night when everyone is asleep. They wake me up.”

  The nun stopped abruptly and turned to her. The Sister’s face was rigid, her eyes searching for an answer. “What do you mean?”

  Lea walked toward her. “What I just said. I saw you and the other nuns burying bundles in the yard with the help of Mr. Roche. But that’s not all.”

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth crossed her arms, her hands fitted into the opposite sleeves of her habit. She stood like a black monolith. “Go on.”

  “I’ve seen Jesus and the Virgin.”

  “Watch what you say, child.” The nun pursed her lips. “There’s a large divide between reality and blasphemy. I’ve seen the Virgin, too, many times, in the Bible, in paintings, in my dreams, but I would never say I saw her in person.”

  Lea tilted her head. “I saw the Virgin today. She wore a white dress and carried a white rose. She visited Monica in the Penitent’s Room. She was crying.”

  “Monica?”

  “No, the Virgin. She was sad for Monica.”

  The nun grabbed Lea by the shoulders. “I think we’ve had enough of this foolishness. Time for bed.” She walked with her down the hall. “It’s the emotion of the day. There’s been too much trouble this afternoon at The Sisters of the Holy Redemption. That’s what’s affecting you.”

  Lea stopped by the garret doors. She pushed it open gently and peered in. The other Magdalens, including Teagan, were getting ready for bed. She let the door close. “I know babies and girls have died here. I know it as sure as I’m alive.”

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth, her eyes dark, lowered her head. She said slowly, “The convent has seen many a tragedy. Some have succumbed from disease and neglect—but not caused by the Sisters. Their families have neglected them or they’ve neglected themselves. In some cases, we were too late to save them. It’s a sadness that weighs upon us all.” She lifted her head and managed a weak smile. “But we mustn’t dwell on these things. That will do no good.”

  “Have some girls tried to escape by the roof and died?”

  The nun shook her gently. “You are full of it tonight, a gob-smack full.” She opened a door and shoved her inside. “Lights-out in ten minutes! Go to bed and forget all this nonsense. No wonder you’re an artist. You make things up in your head.”

  The door closed, leaving Lea to wonder whether she was crazy to go out on the roof tonight as she had planned.

  * * *

&n
bsp; After the lights were turned out, Lea told Teagan about seeing the Virgin, and her conversation with Sister Mary-Elizabeth. “You see things all the time,” Teagan snapped. “No one takes you seriously.”

  Her friend muttered a terse account of her afternoon interaction with the Mother Superior, including the slap across the face. Apparently, Teagan was still smarting from her run-in with Sister Anne.

  “I have to get out of here,” was Teagan’s telling response before she pulled the covers over her head. She settled like a lump under her blanket. Nora’s bed was empty.

  It had been too long since she had been outside, Lea thought, as she gazed out the window. No one had discovered that Teagan had taken out the nails and oiled the runners. The black panes were icy with cold. In reality, the temperature outside was probably no more frigid than when she had to run from her bed to the toilet on a chilly morning. She had grown up in winter cold and summer warmth, a country girl who could handle the weather. How wonderful it would be to breathe fresh air again, maybe for the last time on the roof, because once Teagan and Nora made their escape she was certain the window would be secured with more than nails, maybe even be bricked up.

  The faraway stars shone as hazy blobs through the window. All she had to do was lift the sash, unhook the screen, and crawl out. She wanted to do this for her friends. They were so unhappy here and, frankly, the convent had been turned upside down since they came. All the other girls seemed to fit in—they didn’t cause much trouble or antagonize Sister Anne. There had been run-ins before, but nothing of the sort that was going on with Teagan and Nora. Perhaps the world was changing—for the worse. There was rock and roll and other modern things she had paid little attention to. I want no part of it. I won’t be going home. All I want to do is finish my drawings and be comfortable until I die. Then I’ll meet Jesus and the Virgin.