The Magdalen Girls

by V. S. Alexander

  “Go on.” Her voice was dull and flat.

  “I want to atone for this sin. I want to support you while you get back on your feet. I can even apply to be your guardian until you attain legal age. I’ll get you a flat of your own.”

  Sister Anne gasped. “Do you think that’s wise, considering the realities of this unpleasant situation? Such an arrangement would only make things worse for both of you.”

  “I’ll leave that for Teagan to decide.” He nodded, awaiting a response.

  “How could I trust you?” she asked, never averting her gaze.

  Mark sighed. “That’s a fair question. You’ll have to take my word for it—as a reformed man filled with compassion for those he has wronged.”

  Sister Anne shook her head. It was clear to Teagan what the Mother Superior thought of Mark’s offer.

  Teagan knew his offer was false comfort, although she was somewhat cheered by the possibility of getting out of the convent. A bit of hope had appeared out of the blue.

  “I can’t accept your offer,” she said. “It would be wrong after all that has happened.” She stopped, considering whether to ask a question of the ex-priest. After a brief internal debate, she decided she wanted an answer. “Did you get a girl pregnant? Is that the real reason you left the priesthood?”

  Mark looked as if he was going to laugh out loud. Instead, he sneered. “See what rumors and lies can do? They have ruined you and me.” He shook his head. “No, I never got a woman pregnant—at least not in Ireland.”

  Sister Anne rose from her chair. “I think you’ve said enough. I’m sure Teresa—Teagan—has much to consider.”

  He stood and looked at Teagan. “I mean what I say. If I can help you, get in touch with me. I’ve left a number with Sister Anne where I can be reached.” He walked to the door without looking back, opened it, and vanished into the hall.

  Sister Anne reached for her LOVE blocks, picked them up, and held them tightly between her palms. The message faced Teagan, a mocking salute from the Mother Superior. “Certainly, this admission puts a new light on your situation.”

  “Certainly,” Teagan replied. “I should get to work.” She walked toward the door.

  “Wait.” Sister Anne put the blocks back on her desk.

  She turned.

  The Mother Superior fumbled with papers. “You don’t have to work; in fact, I’m not sure The Sisters of the Holy Redemption can hold you here—if you want to go.”

  Teagan smirked. “No, I belong here for the time being. For the past year, you’ve made me what I am. I want to be with the other Magdalens—the other ‘sinners’ who may be as unjustly confined as I’ve been.”

  She closed the door and left Sister Anne to consider her words.

  * * *

  The next day Teagan worked in the laundry, but said nothing to the other Magdalens.

  Nora was still in a world of her own, aloof, her sarcasm and humor obliterated by the death of her baby. Her friend slept, ate, worked, and fit into the routine as comfortably as Patricia, who was on her way to being a nun.

  As she worked, she thought about Mark’s offer, but after a few minutes’ consideration she brought her mind back to the washbasin. Leaving the convent wasn’t as simple as just walking out. Her freedom was complicated, a confusing matter filled with uncertainties.

  She thought of calling her aunt Florence in New York, who hadn’t been at the funeral mass. Did her aunt even know that her parents had died? She’d have to get back to the house to get the telephone number from her mother’s address book and make the call. Maybe Florence could help her get back on her feet. Making that call would open a world of possibilities, maybe even an opportunity to move to New York City.

  As the workday ended, she spotted the Mother Superior near the Penitent’s Room. Sister Anne kept her distance—Teagan knew Mark’s confession had disturbed her.

  * * *

  A few days after the ex-priest came, Teagan was up to her elbows in suds. Sister Ruth put her stout fingers on her back. She turned to find not only the nun, but a woman in a stylish blue suit standing behind her.

  The woman’s face, so familiar and kind, struck her immediately, yet she had no idea who she was. Her hair was the color of her mother’s, almost a perfect match. She was rounder than her mother, but not plump. The woman looked around the laundry, observing the girls who took as much notice of her as she did of them.

  “This lady wants to see you,” Sister Ruth said. “The Mother Superior said to bring her down.”

  The woman extended her gloved hand. Teagan wiped the suds from her fingers and swiped them across her apron.

  “You don’t know what I’ve gone through to find you,” the woman said. “I’m your aunt, Florence Korman.”

  Aunt Florence from New York. She did bear a resemblance to her mother, who had been a few years older. When Teagan was about seven, her aunt had flown from New York to visit the family in Ballsbridge. She vaguely remembered the experience as an uncomfortable time. Her mother rarely talked about Florence, because she was a married to a man her father disliked—“a rich New York Jew who’d take your last dollar,” he had declared. He made it clear that Florence’s husband was persona non grata in his house.

  Teagan shook her hand and admired the attractive woman.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t make the funeral,” Florence said, and shed her gloves. “It’s quite hot in here. Is this where you work every day?” She had no trace of an Irish accent.

  “Mainly,” Teagan said, unsure how to respond.

  “I came as soon as I could, but with the rift in the family—we didn’t find out until after the funeral was over. A solicitor’s office contacted us.” Florence fanned herself with her hands. “Is there somewhere we can talk that’s less noisy?”

  Teagan pointed to the chair in the far corner. Sister Ruth was watching them, but didn’t seem too concerned about what they did. Teagan led her aunt to the seat. Florence sat delicately and crossed her legs, while Teagan stood. She felt like an ungainly and embarrassed girl who had just come in from playing in the mud. She was ashamed of her dirty apron and ugly shoes, and unable to look Florence in the face.

  “Teagan, I have an offer to make. Please look at me.”

  Teagan acquiesced.

  Florence leaned forward. “A nice man who seems very concerned about your well-being told me where you were, after I inquired at the parish church. I met him at his flat. He told me everything. His name is Mark. He used to be a priest.” She paused. “He seems very sorry for what you’ve gone through. He even cried when I told him what I have planned. I’m sorry, too, that you’ve had to go through this.... I’ve talked with Sister Anne. I can have legal paperwork drawn up for a guardianship within a few days. I know Dublin is your home, but what’s to keep you here? I’m offering you a home in New York City—you can live with my husband and me. We can afford to take you in, and we’re more than happy to do it.”

  Teagan leaned against the railing that separated the laundry from the expansive windows. She looked out on the grounds, taken aback by Florence’s offer. The breeze rocked the leafy oaks. Shadows scattered across the grass. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say ‘yes.’” Florence folded her gloves and put them in her purse. “My husband is a doctor. We can offer you a home you could never make for yourself here. We can send you to the best schools in America. Later, if you decide you want to come back to Ireland . . . well, I might hate the idea, but it’s up to you. Harold and I want to make sure you have a fresh start.”

  “So you know everything?”

  Florence didn’t flinch. “I believe Mark told me the truth. I’m sorry—your father was bent on his own destruction. Unfortunately, he took everyone he loved with him, and, for that, I find it hard to forgive him.”

  Her aunt was here in answer to her prayers, but America seemed so far away. “I’ll have to think about it. Dublin has always been my home.”

  “I understand, but know that kee
ping the house would be throwing money away. I’m here to settle the estate, sell the house and its contents. Your father may not have been fond of my husband and me, but Shavon was able to dictate the beneficiary because Cormac had no siblings. It was recorded so many years ago, I don’t think he even remembered or gave it a second thought. People don’t like to think about their deaths.” She clutched her purse. “The proceeds from the sale will go into a trust fund whether you decide to come to America or not. The money will be yours when you’re of legal age.”

  Florence stood and smoothed her dress. She hugged Teagan and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They walked toward the washbasin.

  “Getting the final details straightened out with the solicitor and the estate agent will take about a week. After that, we’ll be free to go, once you get your passport. The legalities can all be handled from New York. Let me know your decision within a few days, if possible. I’ll be staying at the house—in your parents’ room. You know the phone number.” She grasped Teagan’s hands warmly. “Come live with us. Be good to yourself, especially after what you’ve been through.”

  “There’s a spare key under the garden gnome,” Teagan said.

  Florence smiled, then walked past Sister Ruth and up the stairs.

  Teagan stuck her hands back in the soapy water. Florence, although not by blood, was her real aunt—not Sister Anne. She trembled with joy as relief flooded through her.

  * * *

  How could she tell Nora? Would Nora even understand?

  She pondered those questions that night at tea and evening prayers, and for the first time in more than a year, she prayed in gratitude, because she felt God was looking after her.

  That evening, Nora crept into bed in the old library, as she had done every night since the fire, and rolled onto her side, her face turned away from Teagan.

  Teagan waited until all the Magdalens had settled in, then lifted the sheet and slid next to her friend, whose mattress was still next to hers. Teagan touched Nora’s shoulder. Her friend started and jumped up in bed. After a few moments, Nora lay back down but didn’t speak.

  Teagan held her hand and whispered, “Nora, I want to talk to you.” A few beds away, Betty snored. The sleepy breaths of the Magdalens filled the library. “I’ve been praying this evening about what I should do. I’m going to America, which means I’ll be leaving the convent soon—and leaving you.” She squeezed her hand. “We made a pact we would help each other—one for all, and all that. I haven’t forgotten. Once I get my feet on the ground, I’ll come back and get you. I hope you understand I’m not deserting you, but I have a chance for a good life—better than I could have ever imagined.”

  She threaded her fingers through Nora’s, hoping for some kind of response, but there was none. The room was lonely without Nora and Lea, as if she were sitting in it alone.

  “Please, Nora, let me know that you’ll be all right if I leave. Let me know that you’ll hang on.”

  It was no use. Nora was as unresponsive as the day Seamus died. Teagan withdrew her hand from her friend’s. She brushed her fingers against Nora’s cheek and felt the cold sting of tears. Somewhere in that hard shell, Nora was alive. She kissed her and slid back to her own mattress. She prayed she had made the right decision.

  * * *

  She waited until after the nuns had left for their morning duties before heading up to the garret. The Sisters were still sleeping in the girls’ old beds. There was nothing in her locker she needed to take, but it warranted a last look. She wished now she had kept the blue dress she’d put on at the house. She opened the locker and found it buried under the personal items of a nun, along with the shirt and jeans she’d arrived in.

  Below, hammers pounded and saws buzzed. She looked out the barred window. Workmen crawled over the blackened granite arches, securing beams for the orphanage’s new roof. Parts of the structure were salvageable, according to Sister Mary-Elizabeth. In only a few months, Sister Immaculata and the others would be able to return. At least, that was the expectation.

  A nun now slept in her old bed, but it no longer mattered. She took off her uniform and peered out over the roof and spotted the corner where she, Nora, and Lea had sat, Nora smoking a cigarette and all of them enjoying the fresh air and night stars. In a way, leaving the convent made her sad, and she wondered how she could have such feelings about a place she despised. Did prisoners feel the same way when they left gaol? She took a deep breath and put on the blue dress. It was the only decent thing she had to wear. The money from Cullen was still in the pocket.

  As she walked down, the faint whir from the laundry drifted up the stairs. Her hands were scaly and red from the bleach and detergent. She wouldn’t miss the heat or the smells. The room where she had spent so many hours dining in silence, eating horrible meals, was deserted. She took a final look out the broad windows that opened to the trees. The doors to the chapel and the Penitent’s Room were closed. There was no reason to look inside either of them.

  Florence was in Sister Anne’s office when she arrived. Her adoptive aunt wore a white blouse covered by a handsomely cut beige jacket and matching skirt. The Mother Superior bent over her desk, adding her signature to a sheaf of papers. Sister Anne looked at Teagan and then resumed her writing.

  “Well, that about does it,” Florence said and hugged Teagan. “We’re free to go. Are you ready?”

  “I guess so,” Teagan replied. “I don’t like long good-byes.”

  Sister Anne raised her hand, unwilling to speak. She opened her desk drawer and took out an envelope that Teagan had long forgotten about. The nun pushed it across the desk. Teagan picked it up and then remembered what was inside. It contained the pearl jewelry that had been the seed of an argument between her mother and father. “These are yours, as well.” Sister Anne withdrew the transistor radio and the silk scarf her mother had given her last Christmas. She hadn’t seen them since Sister Mary-Elizabeth had confiscated them from under Lea’s bed.

  Teagan gathered the items in her arms and stood looking at the Mother Superior, uncertain what to do next.

  “Come now, let’s go,” Florence said. “I’m sure the Mother Superior has important business to conduct.”

  Her aunt smiled, but Teagan didn’t think the sentiment was sincere. Florence probably couldn’t care less about the nun. Her aunt was happy to whisk her away from the convent.

  Teagan nodded.

  Sister Anne stopped at the door and took hold of Teagan’s arm before she could leave. The Mother Superior was trembling. “You’ve changed me—you may find that hard to believe.”

  Teagan looked at her skeptically.

  “All the prayers,” the Mother Superior continued, “all the emotional strife I had created faded when Father Mark confessed his sin to me. I admitted mine, too.”

  Florence stood in the hall, waiting. Teagan didn’t want to hear a confession from Sister Anne. She had lost more than a year of her life, and nothing could bring that back. The emotional torture, the feelings of worthlessness that the Church had systematically laid upon her couldn’t be erased by a simple “I was wrong.” In fact, the Mother Superior’s admission jolted her, causing her face to flush in anger.

  The nun continued, “I don’t expect you to forgive me now, but perhaps you will in the future. I shed my hatred when I realized you were not the demon I had created in my heart.” She pointed to the LOVE blocks on her desk. “I’m going to try very hard to live by that rule.”

  Teagan drew away from the Mother Superior. “I have many to forgive. I pray that when you levy punishments, you’ll remember the words you’ve spoken.”

  Florence held out her hand. Teagan took it and they walked toward the large doors. She had only been past the imposing threshold a few times since her confinement, but now she was free to breathe, to savor her new freedom.

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth stood at the door, her hands clenched at her side. She looked concerned, as if she had lost one of the flock. “Good luck. Forgive us,
” she whispered as Teagan passed.

  Florence and she stepped out on the stone terrace and the door closed behind them. The warm August breeze swirled around her. She could hardly believe how alive she felt as she took in the sensation of the air against her skin, the smell of the pine trees in her nostrils, the sunlight falling upon her face. But she felt exhausted, too, as if she had been running for more than a year and never stopped.

  Her aunt walked to the taxi. The driver opened the door.

  “One minute, Florence,” Teagan said and thrust her belongings into her aunt’s hands. She ran along the front of the convent, then turned west toward the corner where Lea had seen the ghostly children. Her heart pounded, and a lump formed in her throat as she rounded the corner and turned north. The laundry’s broad expanse of windows came into view. She knew Nora would be inside, maybe even waiting to wave good-bye.

  She crept close to the railing. The stone pit opened precipitously in front of her. Past the windows, the Magdalens, who had been part of her life, worked. Betty was tending a washer, Sarah stood at the washbasins. They were all there, except for Patricia, who had started her instructions as a novice.

  When the Magdalens saw Teagan, who was staring at them like animals in a zoo, they responded in kind. They dropped their work and came to the windows. Sister Ruth sat in her chair, but the nun didn’t object—Teagan thought she might hear her rough bark over the cacophony inside—but instead, Sister Ruth joined the others. Nora stood near the back, working at the sorting bins. A nun came through the door, took Nora by the shoulders, and guided her to the windows. When the nun turned, she was surprised to see Sister Anne. The Mother Superior had come to the laundry to find her friend. They stared with the others.

  Nora stood, immobile, with the Mother Superior behind her. The Magdalens raised their hands one by one. A few wiped away tears.

  Teagan’s breath caught, and her eyes clouded over with emotion. She concentrated on Nora, but saw no sign of recognition. Her friend looked like a broken doll with its owner hanging over her shoulder.

  Teagan pointed to herself and then to Nora, using the sign language they had devised, then mouthed silently, “I’ll come back for you.”