by Bill Walsh
At the chapel door there’s an old nun standing beside a brown cardboard box. Bigger girls ahead of me bend down to the box but I can’t see what they’re doing the way they gather round. All I see are backs and girls bending before they go inside. I don’t know what to do. I’m sure they’re putting money in and I don’t have any. I look for Pippa. I think she’s behind me but there’re too many strange faces blocking the way. I can’t see Mona either. Maybe if I tell the old nun I have no money she’ll let me in without any, but you never know what nuns will do. She might drag me before the Reverend Mother who’d stand me in a corner and threaten me with her walking stick. I wonder if I should try and sneak in but if I get caught I’ll be in twice as much trouble. I’m cold, but my neck sweats and I try looking for my sisters again but I’m pushed along in the crowd till I’m standing in front of the old nun. She looks down at me. I look up at her with the palms of my hands out straight so she can see I have no money. She looks in the box then I look in the box. The box is full of green pixie hats with spikes like walking sticks on top. I take one and follow inside the chapel but Sister Gabriel rushes across to me wagging her finger, and whispering.
Where’s your hat, child. You can’t come into church without covering your head.
I put it on.
That’s no way to wear a hat, child.
She grabs me by the arm and lifts me so my feet dangle above the floor and when she lets me down again I’m back out in the corridor where Sister Gabriel doesn’t have to whisper anymore. Other girls giggle and my cheeks burn when Sister Gabriel warns me, Don’t pull your hat over your ears like an idiot. It must sit on top of your head, but tilted to the left.
I put the hat back on but she yells, The left.
Yes, Sister Gabriel.
Get inside and catch Lucy Flynn’s hand. She’s the girl sitting on the bed when you arrived yesterday.
Lucy Flynn is waiting for me under the balcony with her hat on but mine keeps falling on the floor. Lucy gives me a nod of her head and shrug of her shoulders that I think means don’t worry about right or left just stick it on your head and come on. So I do.
Reverend Mother is glaring from the bottom of the spiral stair and I’m sure she’d give me a clatter if we were anywhere but mass.
The chapel is small and has windows with coloured glass high up under the roof. Above the altar angels spread their white wings, and there’s a clean holy smell of flowers and polish. The girls in their green pixies sit on the left, big girls at the front. The nuns sit in the middle and on the other side of the nuns, by the confession box, are four rows of older girls and old women in navy scarves. They keep their faces down and Gabriel warns us we are never to look at them, or speak to them. They live in another part of the convent. I wonder are they like me, just older, and will I live here till I’m an old woman in a navy scarf that nobody can talk to. I wonder until the priest with the gold cross on his white robes walks on to the altar and we stand and sing Hallelujah.
After mass, it’s breakfast in a big room Lucy calls the refectory. The walls are green. The windowsills are higher than my head but I can still see the iron bars. The girls sit at long wooden tables with benches down both sides. The nuns’ table is on a raised platform behind a frosted glass screen. There’s a gap under the screen so I can only see their shoulders or the glimpse of a hand moving to pick something from the table, but they can see everything we do.
Mona is sitting at the other side of the room with girls her own age. Pippa is at the same table as me but she’s at the other end between two hungry-looking girls. I’m put beside Lucy Flynn and some of the girls I saw cleaning the stairs. We stand and pray when Sister Gabriel stands in the middle of the room and rings the bell for grace before meals.
Bless us O Lord
And these thy gifts
Which of thy bounty
We are about to receive
Amen.
The bell rings again and we sit. The nuns use wooden spoons to fill our tin plates on the table with porridge from great silver saucepans. The room is filled with the smell of rashers, eggs, sausages and toast from the nuns’ table but all we have is porridge and lukewarm cocoa. The porridge is cold and I can feel the lumps in my mouth and the back of my throat. I want to be sick but I swallow because I don’t want to be in trouble. A girl with foxy hair and a flat nose leans across and asks why I’m here. Is your mother dead?
She’s in Australia.
What does she look like?
The other girls around me stop eating and leave their spoons on the table to listen.
She has black hair.
Is it long?
Yes.
Does she look like you, only older?
I think so.
I seen her.
I look at her and she nods. She smiles. She’s serious. She looks around at Lucy Flynn and the other girls and they nod their heads and get excited. They’ve all seen her. They’re certain. She was in the hallway a minute ago looking for me!
I leap from the seat and run for the door, but Sister Gabriel catches my arm. I pull at her to get away, but she’s big and strong and drags me back to my seat. I tell her my Mum is here and she tells me sit down and finish that porridge and don’t move off that seat again until I’m told.
Lucy Flynn and the other girls are laughing and someone has emptied their porridge in my bowl. I want to cry. I want to go home. Lucy Flynn says it’s no big deal. We do that to everyone.
I can’t eat any more porridge. The clock above the kitchen door shows eight o’clock. I don’t know what to do so I just turn my face to the plastic tablecloth and say nothing. Daddy will be here soon. He has to be.
After breakfast we wash the dishes and scrub the floors. Pippa and Mona are ahead of me leaving the room but when I get to the door leading to the playground they’re lost in a crowd of girls. Lucy Flynn is standing by the door, her hair damp from drizzle. She says sorry for what happened but that’s the way it is. You gets used of it, and don’t be standing there, it’s dangerous. You have to stay out in the playground till the bell rings. Never mind. It’s too late now.
Too late?
Lucy turns away and I feel a huge hand gripping my shoulder. It’s Sister Gabriel, and she doesn’t look happy.
She hauls me into her office at the bottom of the stairs where there’s a tall statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary with yellow roses at her feet. Sister Gabriel lets me down on the floor then lifts me again by the ear and points to the blue slip on the table.
Didn’t I tell you there’s a dark corner in Hell for girls who don’t wear a slip? Not wearing your slip is a sinful, shameful thing to do. Didn’t I warn you?
Yes, Sister Gabriel.
And while you’re waiting for Hell there’s a dark cupboard under the stairs.
She tugs me closer to the table and lifts the slip to show me the leftover bowl of porridge underneath. Do I know it’s a sin to waste God’s Holy Food? Do I know about the millions dying in Africa and other heathen places? The million dead in Biafra? Poor unbaptized babies who will never see the face of God. Condemned for ever to Limbo.
Where’s Limbo?
Never mind where Limbo is. Do you know the effort Sister Marge put into making that lovely porridge? You’ll finish it before you leave this room. Now dry your eyes, Matilda.
She sits me in a chair and puts the spoon in my hand and stands over me with her arms folded inside her sleeves. I put the spoonful of porridge to my lips but it’s colder than it was at breakfast and the lumps so thick I can’t break them with my teeth. My stomach tightens and I puke all over her habit, her shoes and her crucifix. I’m certain she’ll kill me. Reverend Mother appears from nowhere, like a white sheet flapping in the wind demanding to know why our hair wasn’t cut. It’s a sinful length and there’s enough temptation in the world and would you tell me, Sister Gabriel, what is going on here? You are responsible for these children.
The child was sick, Reverend Mother.
I wond
er why Sister Gabriel doesn’t tell Reverend Mother about my slip, which isn’t on the table anymore. Reverend Mother orders Sister Gabriel to get this mess sorted. Father Devlin is on his way. Whatever will he think?
Straight away, Reverend Mother.
Sister Gabriel pulls my slip from her pocket and warns me don’t forget it again or I’ll lament the day. She leaves the room and comes back with a mop and a bucket of soapy water. I get my slip on while Sister Gabriel is mopping. Her face seems kinder now and her voice isn’t as angry either.
You should be doing this yourself, Matilda, she says, but I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one day. Finish what you are doing and go back outside.
Lucy Flynn is waiting by the door again.
See, I told youse not to stand there. Come on, let’s go before Father Devlin comes.
Pippa comes over and grips my hand. Her palm is warm but her fingertips are icy. There are tearstains on her pink cheeks and her bottom lip sticks out when she asks why Daddy didn’t come. I grip her hand tighter and promise her he’ll be here. Pippa says he won’t and Lucy says he won’t. Lucy says they never do. Lucy says we’re in the Holy Shepherd for good. We’re Sheps. Get used of it.
5
Friday evenings we’re brought to the big washroom at the top of the playground where the concrete floor is cold and cracked under our bare feet. We strip naked and fire our clothes in a bundle in the corner then line up and wait for our turn. I don’t get embarrassed anymore because I’m seven now and I’m used of it. Along one wall there’s a line of ten brown enamel tubs head high, my head, off the floor. There’s a nun scrubbing a girl at every tub. The tubs are too big to call sinks and too small to call baths. Cobwebs cling to the corners of the whitewashed walls and to the rotted wooden beams above our heads. The summer sun beams through the small windows above the door making a neat square on the floor and everywhere there’s the splashing of water and the stench of green carbolic soap.
Gabriel lifts me under the arms and plops me in the cold water. Her sleeves are rolled up and she goes at me with the scrubbing brush till my flesh is pinky red and raw all over and all the time she’s howling, Sit still and be quiet. Anyone would think you never saw water. If you don’t sit still you’ll go nowhere tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
Your grandmother rang to say she has a surprise and she’d like the three of you up in the house. If you don’t sit still this instant you’ll stay right here. I’ll see to that.
It’s hard to sit still when tomorrow I’m going home, maybe for good. I’d like to jump out of the tub and tell everyone that when I’m big I’ll have money and I’ll come back with sweets and clothes and new shoes for everyone. But I can’t. There’re suds in my eyes that scald and my cheeks are on fire from green carbolic soap. That’s how people on the outside know we’re Sheps. The raw pink faces we have from carbolic soap. That and the shaved heads.
In the morning Gabriel drives Mona, Pippa and me to Nanny’s in the nuns’ blue mini-bus. When we get out the kids outside the shop stare at us and I hang my head walking past. A strange man opens the front door and I wonder is this another uncle? He’s wearing a white string vest and faded blue jeans. His hair is tied in a ponytail. He has no socks or shoes and Gabriel stares at the man’s feet like she never saw a man with no socks or shoes. I look at his eyes and suddenly I know it’s Daddy. He smiles down at us and I want to move nearer but Mona grabs his hand first. Mona’s coat is open and it’s the first time I’ve noticed the tiny bumps under her jumper and that means she’s getting a chest.
Nanny comes to the door in her apron all smiles for Gabriel.
Isn’t it a great day altogether, Sister.
God is in his Heaven, surely, Missus Kelly.
And aren’t you wonderful yourself, Sister? Look how big the girls are after getting. They’re grand and healthy so they are.
Gabriel tells Nanny we’re great girls and she’s only thrilled to have us and we’re excellent at religious instruction. The Sacred Mysteries, the Seven Deadly Sins, the Seven Virtues and the Ten Commandments. Even little Matilda, who didn’t know where Limbo was. Gabriel smiles down at me like I’m a great girl altogether but I know she’s only doing it because Nanny and Daddy are here.
Daddy wonders what a fine woman like Gabriel is doing being a nun. Wouldn’t she be happier getting a good man for herself? Any man? Nanny slaps Daddy on the bare shoulder and puts her hands to her cheeks to hide the blush.
You’re awful to be coddin’ Sister Gabriel. Take no notice, Sister Gabriel. Full of his fun he is.
Gabriel is as red as a slapped face herself and even though she’s smiling I know she’s mortified. She covers her mouth with her fingers and tells Daddy, You’re an awful man, Mister Kelly. I’m sure now you don’t mean a word.
I do. It’s a mystery why all those women want to lock themselves away. Can’t be natural.
Stop that now, Peter, says Nanny. A joke is a joke.
Pippa steps into the hallway and catches Daddy’s other hand. Gabriel says, Well, I’d better be going or they’ll have the guards out searching for me.
What’s your rush, Sister, says Daddy. Come in and tell me all about yourself and while you’re at it you can tell me who’s responsible for shaving my daughters’ hair.
Daddy leaves Mona and Pippa’s hands go, folds his arms and leans against the doorframe, making room for Gabriel to go inside. Pippa moves away from Daddy and comes out and stands beside me on the footpath and that’s a sure sign Pippa thinks there’s going to be trouble.
Gabriel isn’t having any of it. She ignores Daddy like she’s gone deaf but nuns are always acting deaf when it suits them. She says, It was pleasing to meet you at last, Mister Kelly, and yourself of course, Missus Kelly.
She hurries out to the footpath and into the mini-bus. Her jaw is dangling as she drives away. I don’t think she’s met anyone like Daddy before.
You’re an awful man, says Nanny to Daddy. That poor nun, she doesn’t know if you’re blaggardin’ or serious.
Won’t do her any harm, says Daddy. Bit too good-looking to be a nun. What is she, twenty-five?
If that, says Nanny. Nanny looks down the street after Gabriel. A nun driving, she says. I never thought I’d live to see the day. Come on. Everyone come inside.
Grandad is sitting in his armchair by the fire. It’s July and there’s no fire, but he sits there as if there is, warming himself on memories of cold nights at sea in the Merchant Navy. He glances over at us and goes back to reading the newspaper and I don’t know what to think. I’m just happy my uncles aren’t here. I want to ask Daddy if we’re home for good and are our brothers Sheamie and Danny coming home too? But I don’t. I don’t want to hear him say no.
Nanny stands in front of the mantelpiece and holds her arms out for us to give her a hug. I think she’s going to say this is our home as long as she’s alive and there’s breath in her body. My heart hopes until I remember the last time she said it. Mona and Pippa give Nanny a hug and she kisses them on the cheek. I bend behind the brown sofa pretending to tie my shoelace.
Nanny asks how Mona and Pippa are getting on in school. Mona doesn’t hear and Nanny asks again. Mona says she got three gold stars for English. Pippa says she’s in the school play.
And what about Matilda? Are you still sitting next to your little friend Natasha? And tell me, what’s this I hear from your school about you being a great little Irish dancer?
I don’t want to stand up so I tie my other shoelace. I’m ashamed to tell Nanny that Natasha’s mother came to the school to complain she didn’t want Natasha sitting next to someone from the Holy Shepherd. So now I sit on my own at the back of the class where even girls with wallpaper on their books look down their noses at me.
Daddy goes out to the front bedroom and I follow him because I didn’t get a hug yet. He tells me to wait in the hall and when he comes out his yellow eyes are happy and dancing in his skull. He picks me up and when I give him a hug he squeez
es like he never wants to leave me go. His beard tickles my face and I laugh. He holds me up to the ceiling, playing with me, but I’m not scared because I know Daddy won’t let me fall.
He carries me back out to the sitting room and sits on the brown sofa and lifts his green canvas bag on to his lap. Mona, Pippa and me hold our breath and gather round him while he opens the zip. He puts his hand inside and pulls out a pair of old white socks and hands them to Mona and tells her to make sure they fit before she wears them to mass. Mona takes the socks from Daddy. She stares at them, wriggles them, catches them by the toes and shakes them, opens them at the top and looks inside. She’s ready to pout when she catches Daddy winking at Pippa and me.
What did you really get us? No messin’ now, Daddy.
Daddy puts his arm around Mona’s waist and falls back along the sofa, pulling her to him, laughing and trying to tickle her and it’s easy to see Mona is enjoying it the way she keeps jumping on Daddy every time he lets her go. I’d like a tickle too and so would Pippa and we move near Daddy and Mona on the sofa but Nanny cries, Stop. Stop or you’ll break the chairs. Daddy leaves Mona go and looks back in the bag. He pulls out two shiny black spud guns with red nozzles for Pippa and me and a watch with a black leather strap for Mona because she’s getting big now. We kiss him on the cheek and run straight to the kitchen to rob potatoes from under the sink and for Mona to admire her watch in the cracked mirror over the sink then run out to the front garden so the other kids will see we have something new and won’t be ashamed to talk.
The girls stop playing hopscotch on the footpath and come to the gate and stare and sometimes I’m brave enough to stare back. Mister Murphy comes out his door in his train driver’s cap and tells us all don’t be gawkin’ out of our mouths at each other. Go off and play.
I’m happy. We’re out of the convent, we’re playing with our friends and Daddy’s home. If we’re good he’ll bring Sheamie and Danny home too. We’ll have our own home and Daddy will be happy because he has us and that’s all he’ll ever need. Mum will come back. Maybe she’ll come tomorrow.