A Girl Called Blue

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  Lil watched as Blue brushed and tidied Molly’s hair and buttoned up her heavy, red wool coat. She had grown so much it barely fitted her.

  ‘Now listen, Molly, you’ll remember at night to wake up and go to the toilet, won’t you?’

  Molly nodded solemnly. ‘I will.’

  ‘Now, give us a hug before you go!’

  Molly jumped up on Blue’s lap for the very last time. Blue buried her face in the dark curls, hoping to remember Molly’s scent forever.

  ‘Molly, hurry on. Your daddy’s waiting downstairs for you!’ called someone from the landing.

  Like a whirlwind, Molly grabbed the bag and ran down the stairs, the rest of them waving and calling goodbye. Blue watched as her father scooped the little girl up in his arms and Molly left Larch Hill children’s home forever.

  Two days later Santa Claus came to Larch Hill in his big red suit and white beard, laughing and giving out presents to all the boys and girls. Blue got a tennis ball, a set of colouring pencils, a pair of gloves and some sweets. Sitting at the big table on Christmas day, eating turkey and gravy, Blue had thoughts only for her two missing best friends, Molly and Jess.

  CHAPTER 21

  Cowboys and Indians

  The long days of winter passed. January was bitterly cold and wet, and the children could see snow on the Dublin mountains, though none fell in the city. They were forced to stay indoors and play in the recreation room. One Saturday after lunch they were told to line up the wooden benches in rows facing the back wall.

  ‘There must be some kind of meeting,’ complained Mary. ‘What trouble are we in now?’

  The others shrugged and got on with the job. They were well used to following orders without any explanation. In no time at all they had the benches set up. About fifteen minutes later Tommy Lyons, the handyman, set up a small table in the centre of the room and then lifted in a big black box and began to set up some equipment on it. It was the film projector, with its reels of film that flickered on the plain white wall opposite.

  They sat on their seats, all hushed in expectation. Sister Agnes stood up. ‘Do you know what day today is?’

  Confused, everyone shook their heads. ‘No, Sister.’

  ‘Saturday,’ tried one bright spark.

  Sister Agnes managed a smile. ‘Yes, well, it is that as well. But today is a very special day, a day of celebration for us all. Today is Saint Brigid’s Day, the first of February.

  ‘As it is our saint’s feast day,’ the nun continued, ‘Sister Regina, in her goodness, has decided to provide some entertainment for all you children in her care, and there will be refreshments afterwards for everybody.’

  They sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before bursting into spontaneous cheers as the room went dark. The screen flickered into life with the sound and antics of a cartoon mouse.

  Blue and Lil and Mary laughed their heads off as the mouse got himself in terrible trouble. There were two more short cartoons and then the main feature, a western about three brothers who wanted to save a town. Blue watched, getting engrossed in the story. It wasn’t long before all the cowboys banded together, determined to track down whoever was killing their cattle and burning their homes. The white men blamed the Indians who lived in the open plains close by, and they formed a huge posse to hunt them down.

  The Indian village was quiet and peaceful, with women and children going about their business, unaware what was happening. Blue closed her eyes when the cowboys came upon the first Indians. The audience cheered and roared as bows and arrows were pitched against rifles and guns. Blue felt her heart sink and wished that she could warn the Indians about what was going to happen.

  Blue held her breath and gasped when the youngest cowboy drew his gun and began to shoot. The audience erupted in cheers as the first Indian fell in the dust. But Blue felt an anger grow inside her. The children went crazy, shouting and whooping when the cowboys tracked down more Indians. Then Blue jumped up and cheered as the first Indian arrow tore through one cowboy’s shirt. Within minutes the scene had turned into more than a war on the screen. The rest of the kids cheered for the cowboys and Blue, alone, cheered for the Indians. The noise seemed to get louder and louder.

  ‘Use your arrows!’ shouted Blue, as three Indian braves lay hidden in the hills and began to pick off their enemy with their arrows.

  ‘Boo! Boo!’ yelled the others, and they stamped their feet in protest.

  The screen went suddenly blank and then the lights went up. They all blinked. Sister Regina stood angrily before them.

  ‘The film is over,’ she announced. This was greeted by moans of disbelief, as they were all desperate to see the end.

  ‘But what about the end, Sister?’ asked Bernie Loftus, a ten-year-old sitting in the front row.

  ‘There will be no end, for you have all disgraced yourselves by your deplorable behaviour.’ They could tell by the nun’s face there was no budging her. ‘It only takes one child to cause an upset, to ruin the enjoyment of others. I will not tolerate this sort of mob behaviour in St Brigid’s. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ they chorused meekly.

  ‘Especially on our patron saint’s feastday,’ she continued. ‘Disgraceful.’

  The curtains were opened, the projector put away, and there was no more mention of refreshments as the children, all angry and disappointed, filed out of the hall.

  ‘Why d’ya have to go starting something and ruining it for us all?’ threatened one of the big girls, pushing against Blue as she tried to get out the door.

  Blue didn’t know what to say and looked around frantically for a bit of support from her own friends. But Lil had disappeared, obviously trying to distance herself from her, and Mary’s eyes met hers but she remained silent.

  ‘You should have kept your trap shut!’ added a girl called Gina. ‘We all wanted to see the film, but you had to go and ruin it for us all.’

  Tears stung Blue’s eyes as others stuck out their tongues or called her names as they walked by.

  Blue wanted to say they were the ones who had started it with their cheering and foot-banging, but she knew from the angry glances around her that it was useless. Sister Regina stopped her in the corridor and lectured her aloud about how one rotten apple in a barrel can spoil all the rest of the crop. Embarrassed and humiliated, she went to bed not bothering to go down for tea, and wishing she had never seen the stupid film. It wasn’t fair that she was the one being blamed by everyone.

  She was surprised to see Sister Monica appear in the dormitory, and pretended to be asleep in the hope that the old nun would leave her alone. She couldn’t face any more telling-off.

  ‘That was brave today, child,’ said the old nun. ‘Standing up for your beliefs. Prepared to speak out against injustice!’

  Blue didn’t fully understand what the nun was talking about, but she opened her eyes and turned around in the bed.

  ‘Ah, good. I’m glad to see you’re awake. Today you stood up for your beliefs, something few are brave enough to do.’

  Blue was puzzled. All she’d done was cheer for the Indians instead of the cowboys.

  ‘It is always hard to stand up and fight for your fellow man, to speak out against things that are wrong,’ explained Sister Monica, her monkey-face sincere. ‘You are an unusual child, Bernadette!’

  Blue could hardly believe what she was hearing. The nun was agreeing with her! ‘There was a time when I too stood up for my beliefs, and I too was punished. Africa, that was my punishment in their eyes! I was sent on the missions to a place where I did God’s work, and served him with all my heart. The place where I learned to fight like a lion for people who needed my help. Now I am back in Ireland, old and broken from perhaps too many days in the hot sun, but you know, Blue, I wouldn’t change a single day of it and if I had to do it again I would happily stand shoulder to shoulder with my African brothers and sisters in their struggles.’

  Blue looked at the old nun, with her leathery
skin and tired eyes and stooped figure, and wanted to wrap her arms around her.

  ‘You and I are more alike than you imagine,’ said the nun, smiling. She stretched her tiny wrinkled hand into her habit and drew out two iced buns wrapped in a white hankie. ‘You haven’t eaten, so I thought you might like these. Sister Patricia made them for the community, but at my age too many sweet things aren’t good for you. You have them!’

  Blue sat up, hunger getting the better of her as she took the sweet cakes and gobbled them quickly. Sister Monica brushed the crumbs off the bed.

  ‘Thank you,’ Blue mumbled.

  They could hear the sound of footsteps outside in the corridor and on the stairs as the others came to get ready for bed. Sister Monica turned away, excusing herself as Lil and Mary and the rest of the girls appeared.

  Nobody said anything to her and Blue pulled the blanket back around her. She could hear them whispering and making comments. They were all still grumbling and giving out about missing the end of the film.

  ‘Blue O’Malley is a rotten spoilsport.’ Blue recognised the hard voice of Joan. ‘She doesn’t care that she spoiled all our fun! We should do something about her.’

  From the corner of her eye Blue could see the round face of her enemy, with her pudding-bowl hair and buck teeth, and, unable to stop herself, she leapt out of bed and found herself standing in front of the other girl in her nightclothes.

  ‘You take back what you said about me!’ she demanded. ‘I’m not a spoilsport!’

  ‘Will not.’

  ‘You will.’

  The other girl shook her head obstinately.

  In a sudden burst of fury, Blue butted into her and knocked her on to an adjacent bed. Then Joan pulled Blue down on top of her and the two of them dragged and punched at each other, the rest of the girls, excited, screaming encouragement.

  Blue could feel her anger and temper rise. She wanted to squash her enemy’s face, push her into the pillows, suffocate her, get her to shut up. She was strong, even though she was younger than Joan and smaller.

  ‘Get her off me!’ groaned Joan.

  ‘Say you’re sorry!’ Blue insisted. She could feel the other girl weaken, about to give in.

  ‘What in the name of heaven is going on in here?’ Too late Blue spotted the flick of the black habit, as Sister Agnes pulled her off the other girl. ‘Bernadette O’Malley! I can’t say I’m surprised. You have been spoiling for a fight all day.’

  Blue stood up straight and pushed her hair from her face. She was out of breath, panting with exertion and excitement. Joan got up slowly too.

  ‘Fighting like two cats, I won’t stand for it!’

  ‘She started it, Sister!’ wailed Joan. ‘Ask the others, they’ll tell you the truth.’

  A few heads nodded. No one spoke.

  Sister Agnes believed her. She stared at Blue disdainfully. ‘I think it’s about time you learned to cool your heels, young lady. The rest of you get back into bed and I want strict silence, do you hear me?’

  Blue watched them crawl silently into their beds while she stood there in her nightdress. Lil cast her a pitying look.

  ‘Follow me!’ ordered the nun.

  Blue walked behind her out into the dark corridor and then upstairs to the landing where a statue of their patron saint stood.

  ‘I think you need to make atonement, contemplate your bad behaviour,’ said the nun. ‘I always find Saint Brigid a good saint to pray to if in need of guidance. You will kneel here on the landing for the next few hours praying and asking for forgiveness.’

  ‘I can’t, Sister.’

  The nun looked taken aback.

  ‘I can’t kneel, Sister.’

  ‘Then you can stand,’ the nun ordered.

  Blue blinked. It was cold and dark on the landing and she didn’t want to stand here all on her own. She thought of crying and begging for forgiveness, to be let go back to the dormitory, but seeing the steely, cold look on the nun’s face she knew that the cruel woman in front of her would not change her mind.

  ‘You will stand here for the rest of the night and pray,’ Sister Agnes warned, ‘and I will come for you in the morning when I rise to say my early prayers.’

  Blue swallowed hard. It wasn’t fair. But she would accept her punishment; she had no choice. She watched as Sister Agnes went up the corridor and turned in the door to the rooms where the nuns slept.

  She shivered in her nightdress, her bare feet cold. She stamped up and down gently, trying to warm them and keep her circulation going. She stared at the plaster statue, taking in the kind face and gentle eyes of the saint who was known to be loving and caring. She tried to pray, going through the litany of prayers they had been taught, saying them aloud. She repeated them one after another in a constant rhyme of words and sounds for what seemed like hours. Her own voice was the only sound she heard.

  The whole house was still.

  She was freezing and swung her arms back and forth in the vain hope of keeping warm, marching silently over and back, over and back. She was tired and cold and hungry and would give anything to be back in her bed in the dormitory with the others instead of out on the landing all on her own. She yawned, trying to stay awake.

  ‘Blue!’

  She turned around to see Lil creeping up the stairs.

  ‘I brought you this,’ whispered her friend. It was the woollen underblanket from her bed. ‘You’ll get your death standing here all night in the cold. Wrap this around you at least.’

  Tears filled her eyes – poor Lil would be in big trouble if she was caught helping her.

  ‘Lil, thanks a lot. You’d better get back to bed.’

  She watched her friend slip back downstairs as she wrapped herself in the rough blanket. At least she was a bit warmer now. She stared at the saint with the kind face and gentle eyes.

  ‘You took my friend Jess away,’ she confided, ‘and now with Molly gone too, I’ve nothing to stay for. I’ve got to get out of here! I’m going to run away.’

  CHAPTER 22

  The Plan

  She kept it a secret for a long time, not trusting anyone to know that she was going to run away. She hated Sister Regina and Sister Agnes and she was fed up with life in the orphanage. The idea of escape grew and grew in her mind.

  She was not sure where she would go to but she had some money hidden away – a half crown from the Hickeys as well as Jess’s one pound, twelve shillings and sixpence. Surely that was enough to buy a ticket to get far away from the nuns and Larch Hill? She wondered would she have enough to get to Liverpool? Liverpool was where Molly was. Liverpool was where The Beatles lived – John, Paul, George and Ringo. Lil said they were the best band in the world. Her mind was addled with plotting and planning, trying to work out how she could get away and not get caught.

  ‘Blue, are you listening to me?’ asked Mary one evening while Blue was thinking about her plan.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not listening, I knew it!’

  ‘Go on, I’m sorry.’ Blue could hear the worry in Mary’s voice.

  ‘I was trying to tell you about Tommy. His teacher said to him yesterday about working hard in his new school.’

  ‘New school?’

  ‘Yes! Why would the teacher mention a new school unless he’s going to leave Larch Hill?’ Mary was almost hysterical, her eyes wild and scared-looking. ‘I don’t want him to go, Blue. I can’t bear it.’

  Blue’s heart sank. She didn’t know how Mary would get over losing her little brother. He was her only family.

  ‘They can’t send Tommy away. It’s not fair.’

  ‘You know the boys only stay here till they’re eight, and then they go to the boys’ home. You know that, Mary.’

  ‘He’s not going. They can’t send Tommy there. I’m going to go and talk to Sister Regina about it.’

  Blue couldn’t believe it, Mary going to the head nun’s office.

  ‘Will you come with me?’

  Blue s
wallowed hard. Sister Regina hated her.

  ‘I don’t mean you have to come in, Blue, but just walk up to the door with me so I don’t get cold feet and run away.’

  ‘’Course I will.’

  Mary’s face was strained and pale the next day when she stood outside the head nun’s door, trying to get the courage to knock. Blue was nervous for her.

  ‘Go on, Mary,’ she urged.

  ‘I’m doing this for Tommy,’ Mary said firmly, clenching her hand into a fist and knocking loudly on the heavy door.

  ‘Come in,’ said the voice.

  Blue squeezed her hand before she disappeared inside.

  She waited down the corridor. Mary reappeared a few minutes later, and walked right past her.

  ‘Mary! Mary, how did it go?’

  Mary Doyle, eyes red-rimmed, didn’t say a solitary word.

  Ten days later Tommy was gone. He and two other small boys, Davey Lynch and Paul Byrne, no longer sat at the table in the corner of the dining hall or chased around the corridors after each other. The three of them had been moved to a home for older boys.

  ‘I didn’t even get a chance to say a proper goodbye to him,’ Mary repeated over and over again. She sat at the table in despair. In school she paid no attention to the teacher and did no homework. In the yard she refused to play, and at night she pulled the blankets over her head and gave in to her tears in the dark.

  ‘God, it’s awful,’ declared Lil. ‘Do you think she’s going mad?’

  Blue had to admit she was really worried. Her plans for running away were pushed to the back of her mind as she couldn’t contemplate leaving Mary at a time like this.

  ‘Girls, be kind to Mary Doyle for the moment,’ urged Sister Carmel, who was shocked by the change in the girl and concerned for her well-being.

  Three weeks later a letter came. Mary tore the envelope open. It was from Tommy.

  Dear Mary,

  I love you.

  I miss you.

  I am happy.