Bad Girl Magdalene

by Jonathan Gash

  ‘Fall? You saw Lucy fall?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘In the stairwell. I saw her fall down into it.’

  ‘You did?’ He thought, can a girl evidently so docile and obedient be actually mad?

  ‘Yes. I can see her now.’

  ‘Did you raise the alarm?’

  ‘She went like one of them rag dolls they gave us at Christmas.’

  ‘A shame. Poor girl.’

  ‘The nuns gave us presents on Christmas Day.’

  ‘That was kind. Would you ask after Sister Stephanie, please? Ask her to tell Dr Strathan to hurry, please?’

  ‘They took them off of us after Christmas Day.’

  ‘They did?’

  ‘Lucy said they sold them.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The nuns sold them. The toys. The people from the Church had a whip-round at Christmas for presents for us.’

  ‘That was a shame.’

  ‘The nuns kept the money. Lucy said that.’

  ‘The nuns possibly sent them to Africa, to children who had nothing to eat.’

  ‘Was that stealing, Father?’

  ‘Of course not. Magda, would you please ask anyone you can find if the doctor is here yet? I am aching rather badly.’

  ‘She talked to me before she fell.’

  ‘She? Lucy, you mean?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  This was a dilemma. He could neither move nor send for help. He tried fumbling for the button-clicker Sister Stephanie had said would be right there by his left hand. He only had to press the button and the signal would be heard and they would come running. That was her term, ‘We’ll all come running to straighten you out,’ her exact words. He couldn’t find the clicker.

  ‘What a good friend you must have been.’

  ‘I wasn’t, Father.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you were.’

  ‘She said I was, and that she would pray for me in Heaven every single day.’

  ‘She did? She must have been a remarkable soul.’

  ‘She was my friend.’

  He could hear someone on the stairs. ‘I’m sure she is in Heaven now, Magda.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course. I’m sure she was a good girl, so she will be in Heaven.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course. God is good.’

  ‘I’m frightened Lucy isn’t there at all.’

  ‘Trust in God’s mercy, child.’

  ‘You said that before.’

  Had he? He could not remember saying it, unless she had heard him speak on the subject from the pulpit.

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Can you go to Heaven if you know you are going to die anyway?’

  ‘Of course you can. Look at…’

  There were voices in the corridor outside. He almost called out, but his voice hadn’t strength enough. He wondered if the girl were deranged. These orphans were simple, the sins of the parents passed down as a mark on their illegitimate children.

  ‘Virgins and martyrs, Father? Like Lucy?’

  The door opened, and in came Sister Stephanie and Dr Strathan. They came over to the bedside, the nun giving a gesture of dismissal in the direction of the far side of the room, presumably to where Magda was stationed.

  ‘Had Father Doran needed anything, Magda?’

  ‘No, Sister. He talked a bit, that’s all.’

  ‘You can go.’

  ‘Thank you, Sister.’

  The girl left. She crossed the room in clear view of the recumbent priest. She left without giving him a glance. The doctor came to the right-hand side of the bed.

  ‘Let’s see how you are getting along, shall we, Father Doran? Slept most of the time, I hear.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you,’ the patient managed, trying the affability for which he knew himself renowned.

  During the examination, he asked Sister Stephanie to provide a nurse from the nursing agency, or perhaps from one of the state-registered nurses on the staff. It would incur extra expense, but only until he could be moved to the hospital. Sister Stephanie and Dr Strathan talked it over and agreed.

  Bishop MacGrath would arrive within the hour. Father Doran was relieved. He shut his mind to simpletons, wanting to be in the hands of professionals.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Can he hear us here, Sister?’

  ‘No, Doctor.’

  ‘He is worsening, I’m afraid.’

  ‘He isn’t in serious danger, though?’

  ‘I don’t like his appearance. Some measures ought to be mending by now. They’ve shown no sign.’

  ‘Do you think we…?’

  ‘Move him, Sister? No. I don’t think he would stand it.’

  Sister Stephanie was paler than before. They stood on the second landing. The sick room was at the end on the right, directly above the chapel.

  ‘The bishop will be here presently, Doctor.’

  He knew what she was hinting, that the bishop could overrule the doctor’s ruling.

  ‘Father Doran must stay until he recovers sufficiently, Sister, or I shall take no responsibility.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘I also want a state registered nurse brought in for round-the-clock nursing care, unless you are able to bring in one of the Order who is SRN?’

  ‘I’m afraid we haven’t the resources, Doctor.’

  ‘Very well. Tell me, has Father Doran had any kind of medication I haven’t been told of? Like, do you know if he was under any other doctor for treatment of – what? – high blood pressure, or on a weight reduction diet, that kind of thing?’

  ‘We never spoke of anything except pastoral matters.’

  ‘He never complained of any symptoms?’

  ‘None, Doctor.’

  ‘It’s a rum business. I have seen one or two patients go so suddenly, of course. But the response has always been according to plan.’

  ‘What must we do, Doctor?’

  ‘I shall stay until you bring in a bank nurse. You have the address? I should ring them now, quick as may be.’

  ‘Very well, Doctor.’

  ‘I should like to have a talk with her and lay down the requirements for the priest.’ He delayed her as she turned aside. ‘Oh, Sister. Was he under any personal stress? In his personal life?’

  ‘I do not know, Doctor.’

  ‘Would you be present while I open his briefcase and see if it contains any medication? It’s a small chance I’m missing something, but as I always say, Sister, why take it?’

  He gave her a reassuring smile. They went to collect the priest’s case and, as Sister Stephanie telephoned for an agency nurse, Dr Strathan inspected the contents.

  ‘No medicines of any kind.’ Strathan straightened. ‘I must be getting suspicious in my old age. Too many obscure sociology programmes on television, Sister.’

  ‘I have put Sister Francesca on duty with Father Doran, Doctor.’

  ‘Will she be there now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll pay him a brief call.’

  ‘Very well.’

  They found Sister Francesca sitting opposite the priest’s bed. He seemed to be sleeping. The monitors were in place. Dr Strathan took a quick look and frowned.

  ‘I shall ask the cardiac consultant from the teaching hospital to make a domiciliary, Sister Stephanie.’

  ‘To come here?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of urgency. Now, in fact. I’ll wait for him.’

  ‘Is it that…?’

  ‘Please stay.’

  Distantly the doorbell rang. Magda was on the staircase when Dr Strathan went along to the main office.

  ‘Doctor? May I go off duty now, please?’

  ‘Eh? Oh, are you due to leave?’

  ‘Yes, Doctor. I was afraid to go until I got permission.’

  ‘Good girl. Yes, I daresay you can go.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  He watched her go. She
must have been waiting all this time, he thought, on the staircase, already in her shabby coat. Devotion to duty. It’s a pity there isn’t more of that in this modern world, he thought. It gave him a sense of comfort. Could the priest be any better looked after in Dublin’s finest hospitals? Dr Strathan didn’t think so.

  Kev met Magda after she’d been home to take off her working clothes. She was not allowed a locker at the St Cosmo.

  The bar was across the road from where he said he’d be waiting. He was with a girl a little older than Magda. The presence of the other girl made her hang back.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Kev told her. ‘It’s only my sister Jean.’

  ‘Only?’ The girl gave him a mild clout with the back of her hand, making Magda gasp at such effrontery.

  ‘She’s always doing that,’ Kev said. ‘She’s beyond control. Take no notice.’

  ‘I’m Magda.’

  ‘I know. I heard all about you, Magda. Come on. I’m desperate for a drink.’

  Magda looked round, but the café was in the opposite direction. Jean paused, waiting for Magda.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘The bar.’

  Magda stared. There was a bar, true, but what was she suggesting?

  ‘In there?’

  Jean laughed. ‘Where else? Have you never been in bar before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Time you learnt, Magda.’

  Jean linked her arm through Magda’s and guided her across the road to the bar entrance, Kev following.

  ‘Jesus, Magda, we’re not going to ravish them, just have a drink while we chat.’

  ‘Are we allowed?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard?’ Now Jean was laughing without pause at Magda’s reluctance. ‘It’s compulsory in Dublin! In we go.’

  ‘No football supporters here,’ Kev said.

  He was not quite as amused as his sister, but Magda knew it was something of a joke so she tried to smile. She kept looking at his sister – sister, a real one, from an actual family, not just a word. Magda felt so proud to be with a sister, and a brother who was genuine too, living shared lives because they had, presumably, the same mother and father. It was a miracle when you thought of it, beyond anything, and here she was meeting them in actual life.

  And in a bar and all.

  ‘What will you have?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’

  ‘Nothing? That won’t do. Give her the same as me, Kev.’

  ‘Right.’

  He went to the bar. Jean drew Magda to a seat at a small table away from the bar counter. Nobody was smoking like they did in the pictures Magda watched all night long to keep awake and help Lucy.

  ‘You work at the St Cosmo, Magda, Kev said.’

  ‘Yes. I’m a skivvy.’

  ‘General help. That’s what you say. If you say skivvy, you’re running yourself down.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Sure. It’s what they all want.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Everybody. They’re all at it. People who pay you. How much d’you get?’

  ‘Stop it, Jeannie,’ Kev said, returning. ‘Orange juice for you, Magda, because you’re a drinker in training.’

  ‘A drinker!’ Magda cried out. People looked round.

  ‘Pay him no heed, Magda. He only means it’s your first time in a bar. He talks more than he has sense for.’

  ‘Are they depraved?’

  Jean stared. ‘Are they what?’

  ‘I thought it would be all smoking and gambling fights, like on TV.’

  ‘Fights? Sometimes but not often. Drunk now and then. That’s the most we can manage this end of old Short-Change City.’

  ‘What…?’

  ‘Visitors call Dublin that. You never get the right change, see?’ Jean waited to let Magda get the meaning. ‘That’s what businessmen say about Dublin, everybody gives them the wrong change, see?’

  ‘Do they?’ Magda felt impressed, not only from being with Jean and Kev but learning all these things in one go.

  ‘Who knows? People will, I suppose, if you let them get away with it.’

  ‘Did you find out?’ Kev asked.

  Magda tried a sip of the orange juice. She had had some before, from a rectangular cardboard carton from the corner shop, greatly daring. It did not taste as she expected. She didn’t like it. Men all around were drinking beer. Many were young, even some her own age. It was astonishing. Not one Garda there, in all these people. It wasn’t at all like on Fifth Avenue.

  ‘Find out?’

  Jean and Kev exchanged glances. He cleared his throat.

  ‘The medicines somebody was stealing at the St Cosmo.’

  ‘I tried. Three of the old folk said they had things lost. An old lady, Mrs Borru, told me she lost several tablets and thinks somebody took them. She doesn’t know why. She even asked me if I was doing it, and I told her no. I asked her who she thought it was.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She didn’t know.’

  ‘Anybody else?’

  ‘Yes. An old man who was a soldier, Mr Gorragher. He wanders in the things he says. He even drifts off sometimes while he’s talking to you. Other times he sings songs.’

  ‘Thing is,’ Jean said, ‘is it real, or is it just made up? Old folk forget.’

  ‘Oh, they’re forgetting all the time. Some go to confession and then ask what time the priest’s coming. They’ve already forgotten he’s been, see?’

  ‘And the third? You said there were three.’

  ‘Mr Liam MacIlwam.’

  ‘That’s Grampa.’

  ‘He’s usually quite clear in his mind,’ Kev said slowly. ‘He wouldn’t make a mistake.’

  ‘He could forget, though.’

  ‘Sometimes the pill bottles roll under the bed, and other times they put them on the table in the main lounge room where they play cards and that. Some of them take each other’s bottles.’

  ‘By mistake?’

  ‘Yes. Why would they want each other’s tablets?’

  ‘Do you get them back?’

  ‘We’re forever looking for them old things.’

  ‘You haven’t seen anybody actually stealing them, then?’

  ‘No. I looked, like you told me to.’

  ‘Do they keep a record book?’

  ‘The nuns do. The nurses do. They have a drugs book. It’s kept locked.’

  ‘Who fills in the prescriptions?’

  ‘Dr Strathan comes and sees to the old folks, though some of them have their own doctors coming in and out.’

  ‘Is he the resident doctor?’

  ‘He sees to the nuns, though today he’s hardly left the place. In most of the day, him, since the priest took bad.’

  ‘Priest?’

  Magda told them of the priest falling ill and how he was in the sick room upstairs over the chapel on the second floor, with a nurse specially fetched to see to him and stay all the time. She told them all she had overheard standing on the staircase by the landing, though she didn’t tell them she had only pretended to be waiting for permission to go home.

  ‘Is he badly?’

  ‘Yes. He wants to go to hospital. Sister Stephanie tried to make the doctor send him straight off, but he said the priest was too poorly.’

  ‘Did he say what was the matter with him?’

  ‘A heart attack. He has machines all round his bed now.’

  ‘Which priest?’ Kev asked.

  ‘Father Doran. Do you know Father Doran?’

  ‘I saw him once when I went to see Grampa. Tubby? Forty years old, maybe more?’

  ‘That’s him. Well, he’s on some of Dr Strathan’s machines that have, like, TV sets to them. He has medicines dripping in a tube. Sister Stephanie didn’t want the doctor to bring in a hired nurse, but Dr Strathan made her send for one straight away.’

  ‘Is he dying?’ Jean looked at Kev, who gave her a sharp glance. ‘Well, Kev, people die from heart attacks. You hear of it
all the time.’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s that,’ Magda said reasonably, playing the role she had picked out for herself, the ignorant girl who knew nothing but who could listen real good if people talked slow. ‘The doctor kept asking the same question over and over.’

  ‘What question?’

  ‘Stop being a Garda, Kev,’ Jean reprimanded sharply, making Magda almost goggle with awe at a sister rebuking her older brother straight out like that, and in company too. There seemed more to families than she ever imagined, not quite the stepwise order she was led to believe. ‘He only means did you hear them say anything that might help us find out who’s pinching Grampa’s tablets.’

  ‘Dr Strathan kept at Sister Stephanie, asking, was Father Doran taking any medication. He said that, medication, like he couldn’t understand why the priest was so poorly of a sudden.’

  ‘And had he?’

  ‘Father Doran? No.’

  ‘Was Sister Stephanie sure, Magda?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There,’ Jean said, triumphant. ‘That means the priest was given something.’

  ‘How do you know?’ her brother asked. He had a glass of pale beer, the first Magda had seen really close to in a genuine bar, though some of the old men had a bottle sometimes if it was brought in by relatives.

  ‘Or he was taking it himself and got it wrong,’ Jean said, firm as ever. She seemed determined at whatever she was saying, never wanting to give in. Magda was impressed by this, and tried to remember the girl’s gestures so she could practice them in front of her mirror.

  ‘What would he do that for?’

  ‘Old folk sometimes forget they’ve taken their tablets or had their spoon of medicine. They’re terrors.’

  ‘See?’ Kev said. ‘It’s maybe just Grampa forgetting.’

  ‘I tried to keep a check on him,’ Magda said, and she had so it was really true, ‘but I’m always off doing things somewhere else. You can’t sit and talk. You’re not allowed.’

  ‘Do you do nights?’

  ‘Only when they’re short of somebody to do a special watch on an oldie who’s really ill. There’s three of them always sick. They need injections, but a nurse-nun or a real nurse has to do those. Domestics like me aren’t allowed.’

  ‘Where do you live, Magda?’ Jean had lost interest.

  Magda explained, and told Jean how she had been in the Magdalenes and with Faith’s help got a job at the St Cosmo after working in the paper packers.