by Bill Walsh
Until tomorrow, Matilda. Not a minute longer.
After school I hang my medal on the board in the corridor and it’s the first medal in the Holy Shepherd won on the outside. Gabriel comes along to check I have hung it there. She stands behind me and puts her hand on my shoulder. Well done, Matilda, she says. Well done indeed.
I don’t know what to say when people say, Well done. I don’t know what to do, especially now when I hear Doyler screaming from the kitchen like a woman gone mad. Gabriel rushes in and I follow. Doyler’s pulling the presses open and slamming them after her, demanding to know where the eggs have gone. The room is full of kids and all of them staring at me and I say, I don’t know why yee’re all gawkin’ at me. By Saturday there’s a dozen eggs missing and Doyler sends for Reverend Mother, in case Reverend Mother thinks Doyler is taking the eggs home. She has us all in the kitchen, kids and nuns.
I don’t know what’s going on, Reverend Mother. There are eggs walking out of this kitchen by the dozen and of course, don’t you just know, nobody here knows the first thing.
Now Doyler is gawking at me and I give my best gawk back and I know she’ll think I wouldn’t be brazen enough to gawk back if I had done it. Not with Reverend Mother ripping the kitchen asunder for missing eggs. Reverend Mother’s eyes dart from face to face, the yellow-flecked eyes in a circle of white like two poached eggs in boiling water. I feel my cheeks burn till Gabriel’s huge frame moves in front of me blocking Reverend Mother’s view. Reverend Mother says she’ll be keeping a sharp eye on her eggs and she’ll soon discover the thief. We’re sent out to the playground but from the corridor I hear Reverend Mother ask Doyler why someone would steal eggs. Are you certain the frying pan wasn’t used, Missus Doyle? They’re hardly eating them raw. It’s only the lowest of the low or the most desperate class of a creature would eat a raw egg.
Next day I get a silver medal and a bronze medal and, by the time the parcel arrives at Christmas, the board is full of my medals.
Up in Reverend Mother’s room, Uncle Edward’s parcel is on the desk. Mona, Sheamie, Pippa, Danny and me stand in front of the desk. The string has been cut and the Christmas wrapping paper looks like it’s been opened and wrapped up again. Reverend Mother has had a good look but she still tries to look surprised when she opens it the second time.
The parcel is packed with toys, games, new clothes and a huge sea chest stuffed with gold coins that dazzle and make us pant, but like every year we can only take one thing each. Sheamie says the coins are chocolate covered in gold paper, Not that it matters, we can’t have any, can we, Reverend Mother?
No.
Sheamie smirks.
There’s a blue poncho for me and that’s what I take. Surely it can’t be right that nuns take your Christmas presents. Especially when they came from a bishop but when I complain it’s not fair Reverend Mother rants and raves.
You are a selfish girl. That box is going to the poor people who have nothing this Christmas. And you have so much. Look at what’s in this box.
Pippa kicks my ankle and tells me to stop causing trouble or we’ll all get kilt but Sheamie agrees it’s not fair and now even Mona is complaining.
Reverend Mother says she can’t have one family swanning around in new clothes while others do without. The Holy Family didn’t have new clothes at Christmas. They were lucky to have a roof over their heads.
That’s not our fault.
What?
Can’t you buy the other kids new clothes too?
I knew before I said it I was saying the wrong thing but I couldn’t stop myself.
Pippa mutters under her breath, You’re for it now.
Sheamie covers his hands with his face. Danny laughs out loud. Mona didn’t hear me; she’s still complaining. Reverend Mother is out of her chair, a mad woman from the asylum hopping around the room chasing me with the walking stick. I keep telling her it’s not fair, our Uncle Edward sent them things to us, and she keeps telling me, You’ll come to no good. You’re heading for the laundry, you are. She chases me till she collapses into her chair. Mona, Pippa, Sheamie and Danny are still standing at the desk. Mona is still complaining, only there’s no one listening. Reverend Mother gets her breath. She puffs. Well, as it’s Christmas, I’ll let you have one coin each. Just the one, I said!
She slams the lid down after Danny takes his but she’ll be over in the penguins’ mansion Christmas night sprawled across the sofa watching Bing Crosby in White Christmas, stuffing her puss with Uncle Edward’s chocolate.
Christmas Eve the sky flickers with stars. The air is sharp and smells of Christmas. On a radio somewhere in the darkness Louis Armstrong is singing ‘What a Wonderful World’. The houses in Trinity Park shimmer with fairy lights and the frosty white roofs wait for Santa. I sit across the road from them on the stone wall. Uncle Edward’s blue poncho is soft and keeps me warm. It reminds me of my mother and I wonder if the parcels really come from her.
We’ve got to know some of the kids from Trinity Park. The others are not let to play with us, and taunt the ones that do.
Indjun lovers.
Mothers point as we come and go and I know they say it’s sad to see those children without a mother or father. I wish I could tell them I lived in a house once, a big house up on stilts, and my mother is a nurse and she loves us and some day she’ll take us home. Then they’d know I’m just like them and wouldn’t tell their children to keep away.
Beneath me, people struggle up the hill, holding on to the stone wall or just falling down drunk on the footpath. Their caps, scarves and bald heads pass under my sandals and they don’t even know I’m here.
I sit here when I feel sad.
Mona and Pippa came into my room this morning.
We’ll go carol singing, Matilda. We’ll knock on doors and see if people give us money. It’s Christmas. Everyone gives money for Christmas.
The old woman in the first house we went to gave us a shilling each and after that there was no giving up, no matter how many doors were slammed in our faces. We had nearly a pound each by the time we got to this one house. I didn’t know who lived there and I didn’t recognize him until Pippa nudged me.
It’s your godfather, Matilda.
I was so happy, I smiled up at him. I hoped he’d smile back. It was a long time since I’d seen him. I was seven and making my First Holy Communion and nobody knew for certain if I was baptized, so I was baptized in the convent chapel. The nuns had everything arranged. A teacher from the boys’ school said he’d be my godfather. There we were at the altar, me in my white Communion frock holding my white rosary beads. Father Devlin in his robes with the gold cross. The altar boys in their red tunics and white lace. The nuns kneeling in their pews, the girls wearing green pixie hats kneeling in theirs. Even Sister Pascal sounded good on the organ. I was pure faintin’. A baptism is a huge thing in the convent.
The schoolteacher never turned up and I was left standing on the altar like a fool nobody wanted. Father Devlin told one of the altar boys to stand for me. He was the oldest and the tallest. He was eighteen. I didn’t know what was going on when he stood beside me at the altar. I thought I was getting married until Gabriel told me he was going to be my godfather. He’ll look out for you, Matilda. He’ll mind you. I was happy because I had nobody to mind me.
I never saw him again until today when he opened the door. No smile and embarrassed I was there. His mother came out and stood beside him. She was a big woman in an apron and I could tell she was cooking the Christmas dinner. I could smell the turkey, and we were in her way.
Then Pippa opened her mouth. That’s Matilda’s godfather.
Who is? his mother said. There’re no godfathers here.
She turned to my godfather and sent him inside. I never heard the like. Away from this door, the three of you, and don’t come again if yee know what’s good. I’ll be seeing Father Devlin about this.
I felt tears coming and I felt stupid because I’d smiled up at him and I wante
d to die right there on the doorstep. I swallowed my tears because I didn’t want him or his mother to see me cry and it was like a lake growing in my chest. Mona stuck her tongue out and told the woman, Piss off you, yeh aul bitch, and leave Matilda alone or I’ll get me father. The woman straightened her shoulders and folded her arms and dared Mona, Oh, you will, will you? And tell me now, who might your father be? Or do you know?
Mona put her head down and ran at the door. The woman stepped back and tried to close the door but Mona’s forehead rattled the letterbox. The door flew open and knocked the woman back on her arse. Her legs flew in the air and we could see she was wearing thick nylon stockings and knickers thicker than a baby’s nappy. Her screams brought her son running from the kitchen, but Mona had kept going and caught him with her head right between the legs. Even on the footpath I could feel the pain. Pippa sprinted out the gate and across the road to the convent. My godfather clutched himself and doubled over. His mouth opened and it was easy to see he wanted to scream but nothing came out. His cheeks went a queer colour before he dropped to his knees and keeled over on his side like a shot buffalo. Mona stepped over him and over his mother, who was trying to pull her skirt down over her knees, and all the time she was wailing, I’ll get the priest for you. You haven’t heard the last of this.
Shut the fuck up, said Mona.
Mona slammed the door behind her and put her arm around me.
Fuck him, Matilda. If a man can’t take a good nut in the balls you don’t want him for a godfather anyway.
It was the first time I knew what it was like to have a big sister and I could feel my chest swell and the tears inside me vanish like a rain puddle in the sunshine. But part of me was sad because no one had ever stood up for me before and I wondered if I might ever have that feeling again.
I sit on the stone wall until I don’t feel sad anymore. Just angry. At him, his mother, at Gabriel, at Father Devlin. It doesn’t last long. What’s the use? I’d better go inside. Pippa is calling me to pack for our grandmother’s. We’re going to her for Christmas because she wouldn’t have it said she didn’t take her grandchildren up for holidays or the odd weekend. I don’t really want to go, not that I have a choice. You’ll go where you’re told, Matilda. It doesn’t feel normal and I wonder, do other girls do that for their uncle? But even saying it I know I will go, and I will do what he wants because he needs me and no one ever needed me.
*
Christmas morning, before our grandmother calls, the playground is cluttered with dolls, prams, bicycles, plastic tractors, roller skates and scooters. One of the big girls is getting in the back door of the nuns’ car with her suitcase. I’ve seen girls sent away to the convent in Cork because they were stone cracked and out of control, but never on a Christmas morning.
The nuns gather everyone together in the common room and lock the doors behind us. There’s a shuffle of feet as we kneel to pray the Act of Contrition for the dreadful sins committed within convent walls and I’m certain it’s the usual. The mothers have come over from Trinity Park to say we’re robbing their children’s Christmas toys and could we please hand them back and we’ll all stand there bare faced and say, Who us? Wasn’t us. Someone must a thrown them toys over the wall.
But it’s not over the toys at all, because now we’re praying for the salvation of the soul of Patricia Dooley gone away with her suitcase. May the Lord and His Blessed Mother grant forgiveness.
Reverend Mother is at the head of the room in her white habit. She’s surrounded by three other nuns standing with their heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them. Reverend Mother is giving us this one chance, only one. All I can hear are girls trying to muffle sniggers and coughing because someone coughed in the corner and when one starts everyone has to do it.
Reverend Mother says there’s been carry-on under the chestnut trees. The workmen might have finished their work but the culprits will be located. She blesses herself and rolls her eyes to Heaven and the three nuns beside her follow suit. Reverend Mother points her stick towards the door to tell us Father Devlin is waiting for us over in the chapel. We’re to confess we were with the workmen. We’re to tell him everything we done to them and everything they done. Hold nothing back. God will know. Father Devlin will know. The Madonna will know. Save your immortal souls. Go and confess.
In the chapel, two of the big girls bawl, But we done nothin’. The foxy tinkers say, Tell Father Devlin yee weren’t there den. The two girls say, The nuns told us to tell him we were.
Den tell him yee were.
But we weren’t.
Ah, tell him yee had a great time anyway, fuckin’ eejits. It’s only sex. What’s he gonna do?
Lucy Flynn and me are kneeling in the pew behind them biting our tongues and hiding our faces behind our green pixie hats. It’s great the way the tinkers keep thumping the two big girls on the head.
When the big girls finish, it’s our turn. The confession box has a dry smell and there’s a hollow sound when I kneel. There’s a crucifix on the wall and a dim light over my head. Father Devlin sits behind the screen, breathing heavy.
Do you know why you are here, Matilda?
The nuns told me to come, Father.
Yes, yes. But do you know why they sent you?
No, Father Devlin.
Any idea at all now, Matilda.
Is it, ah, is it over sex, Father?
That’s right, and can you tell me now, Matilda, what is sex?
No, Father.
And what do you think it might be?
I don’t know, Father. I just heard the big girls say it.
Try now, Matilda. Think hard.
Is it, is it, ah…
Yes, Matilda?
Is it, ah, is it kissing, Father Devlin?
It’s a little more than that now, Matilda.
Is it, ah…
Yes, yes, go on.
Is it what we do, Father Devlin?
What?
You know when I sit on your lap and you tickle me. Is that sex, Father Devlin?… Father Devlin?… Father Devlin, are you all right?
Father Devlin is choking behind the screen. He tells me, No, Matilda, no, no. That’s a different thing altogether. That’s just being friendly. Do you understand the difference, Matilda?
I say, Yes, Father Devlin, even though I don’t understand anything.
You must never say that to anyone, Matilda. So you won’t now?
I won’t, Father Devlin.
Thank God, I mean, good girl, good girl yourself. You can go now so. Remember what I said, won’t you, Matilda?
Ah, have I penance, Father?
What? Oh, ah, penance, right. Ah, no, no. Not today, Matilda.
Thank you, Father Devlin.
We come back from our grandmother’s the Saturday after Christmas. Father Devlin is in the playground. He hands me a brown paper bag.
Remember what I said, Matilda. Won’t you?
I will, Father Devlin.
Sure, you’re a great girl. I’ll have to put a book on your head and that’s all there is to it.
I go to my room and walk around with a book on my head. A thick geography one with floppy covers but it keeps falling on the floor. If I stand still it stays on my head for longer but nothing ever happens. It’s just stupid.
I open the brown paper bag full of hard round gobstoppers, reds, greens and blues. I lie on my bed with my feet on the pillow and stare up at the ceiling. I suck and think. I think about why Father Devlin wants to put a book on my head. About the big girls screaming in the toilets. Uncle Philip bringing me upstairs. Sitting on Father Devlin’s lap. The big girls sneaking down to the toilets. Patricia Dooley going away with her suitcase. I think when I go to bed, when I go to mass, school, sit on the swings, on the bus and when I’m running.
One summer morning when I’m ten I wake up drenched. Sweat on my face, arms, legs, and bed sheets. I can feel my heart beating against my ribs and it’s hard to catch my breath. I know why Father Devli
n wants to put a book on my head. At last I think I understand why our grandmother sent us away.
8
Gabriel marches the girls in our group to the church and tells us Reverend Mother has decided we’ve had too much freedom. The female body is the temple of temptation and can only be saved by prayer. We are to say our prayers and be good Catholics for aren’t we Irish and always remember it was the Irish who gave Catholicism to the world. You’ve made your First Holy Communion, Matilda. You’ve made your Holy Confirmation. You are a Soldier of Christ.
There are groans all round the chapel but Gabriel waves us away and every Friday us Soldiers of Christ are brought to the chapel for the Stations of the Cross and to listen to Gabriel tell us any time we feel like complaining all we need do is look up there on the wall at Jesus struggling up Mt Calvary with that cross on his back and that will stop our complaining.
We stop at every picture in the chapel and say a decade of the rosary. We pray to all the statues and on the way out we kneel to St Joseph. He wears a brown robe and has a curly beard like a bunch of grapes stuck to his chin. Gabriel tells us to pray to the Blessed Virgin Mary who in turn will intercede on our behalf to her son Jesus who in turn will intercede to God the Father, and on a stifling day in July the chapel is hotter than Hell and, even though it’s a sin to say it, the whole thing would bore the arse off you.
Out in the playground I’m covered in sweat and I’m sore from kneeling and bowing and standing and genuflecting and I’m wondering what to do next. It must be at least an hour before the rosary. Mona and me sit on the low red-brick wall outside the door of our group watching the willy-wagtails dance along the roof of the green sheds while we wait for our skin to cool. Mona asks me keep an eye out while she opens the top three buttons of her blouse so she’ll get a colour on her chest.