Gallipoli Street (40 page)

‘Enter,' said the much-feared voice.

Missy raised worried eyes to Theresa, who took her hand briefly, squeezing it. ‘We'll be all right,' she whispered, letting go to push into the room. Missy followed her.

Mother Superior sat behind the large desk, looking up at them from beneath her spectacles, her watery eyes pinning them. Theresa felt as if she were ten years old and about to get into trouble for stealing plums from next door's tree and shifted nervously, feeling the tension emanating from Missy, who stood stiffly beside her.

‘Sit,' ordered the nun and they did so automatically, perching themselves on the edges of the hard wooden chairs. She watched them for a moment before firing a question. ‘You've finished the night shift, I take it?'

‘Yes, Mother,' Theresa said. ‘Just now.'

Mother Superior shifted her gaze to Missy. ‘You were late.'

‘Yes, Mother,' Missy said, looking to Theresa for help. ‘The matron wanted us to–'

‘Do not blame others for your mistakes, Bernadette. Contrition and a constant focus on improving oneself is all that God asks.'

‘Yes, Mother,' said Missy, squirming.

They waited as the nun tapped her fingers against some paperwork in front of her and Theresa tried to make out the words upside down.

‘I have good news for you two girls,' Mother Superior said suddenly, flashing a smile so small and brief they thought they'd imagined it. ‘I've had word from the bishop and he has agreed to allow you both a rare and exciting opportunity. Two posts have become available with Father Burnett, who as you know is working in the Congo as a missionary with some of our sisters. You're familiar with his regular reports in the Parish News?' They nodded and Theresa had a sinking feeling.

‘Father O'Brien and I have managed to pull a few strings and, as soon as you take your vows of course, you are granted permission to join them. I know this is sudden but I'm sure you'll feel enormous relief that the good Lord has provided for you.' Her voice prattled on as she went through the details of their entry into the order and they listened in silence, hardly believing what they heard until finally she asked them a question, rousing them out of their shock. ‘What names will you be taking?'

‘Names?' Missy echoed.

‘Yes, girl, you'll need to consider which name you will adopt. Here, take my book of saints with you. You can decide that later. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you've been blessed in this way. Goodness knows I didn't know what would become of you at this age, but there you are. A good lesson in trusting God will provide. Do you have any questions?'

‘No, Mother Superior,' they both murmured automatically before finding themselves excused.

Walking back down the stairs and out into the fresh air, Missy turned to Theresa, her emotions erupting.

‘Nuns?
I don't want to be a nun
! And in the jungle? With the leeches? Oh God…Theresa, why are they making us do this?'

‘I don't know. I suppose they think we're spinsters now at the grand old age of twenty-two,' she said, kicking at the leaves as they walked. ‘They probably figure if we're not going to fulfil our Christian duty as mothers and wives, we need to serve God elsewhere.'

‘It's not our fault! How were we ever supposed to meet anybody here?'

Theresa couldn't have agreed more. The country town they lived in only had a limited number of eligible bachelors and most of them had been snapped up by girls with ‘family'. Poor orphan girls were not marriage material. Of course that hadn't stopped the boys pursuing them for other reasons and Theresa had had to drag Missy out of precarious situations on more than one occasion. Somehow the time had come and gone and their opportunity for husbands with it.

‘There must be a way out of this.' Theresa furrowed her brow, thinking hard.

‘Let's run away! They can't make us live in the Congo. It's…it's undemocratic!'

Theresa gave a little snort of laughter. Missy really should be on stage, as she so dearly wished to be; she was very dramatic. ‘Of course, but without any money how are we going to go anywhere? And if we refuse we may lose our places at the hospital as well. Then what? Live on the street?'

Missy began to cry, wailing about giant snakes and cannibals until they reached their dorm rooms in the hospital. Theresa tried to comfort her.

‘There, there, Missy,' she soothed, ‘I'll figure something out. There must be a way.' Missy threw herself on the bed and Theresa watched her thoughtfully. She was the closest person to her in the whole world, their fates having collided the day Missy arrived at St Reuben's at the age of eight, having lost both parents to illness in the space of a month. Small and frightened, Missy had latched on to Theresa who was strong, resourceful and, for some reason, immediately protective of this new girl. She wouldn't allow anyone else to hold Missy when she cried or say unkind words about her skinny frame and boggled eyes.

Looking at her now, it was hard to imagine that the scrap of a girl was the same person. Bernadette ‘Missy' Garcia had blossomed into a shapely woman with glossy brown curls, and her enormous brown eyes had lost their stricken appearance and were now her greatest feature. Theresa knew she would be a hit on stage, if only she had the chance.

She strengthened her resolve. Theresa had never let anyone take advantage of Missy if she could prevent it and she wasn't about to let that change now.

She worked through the situation over and again in her head, knowing she would have to use all of her wits and strength to battle the mighty force that was the Catholic Church in this town. Most of the townspeople paid more mind to Father O'Brien and Mother Superior than to the politicians or the police. It would be a difficult task indeed to gain sympathy or quarter. No, their only hope was escape, but how to do it on their paltry nurses wages, most of which the Church found ways of filtering back to their coffers?

‘We need money,' she said decisively. ‘Come on: let's think. What are we good at? You can sing…'

‘Maybe we could join the circus,' Missy mumbled into the pillow.

A knock came to their door and Theresa opened it. ‘Sister Carmel,' she said in surprise.

‘Good morning, Theresa, Bernadette. I wonder if I might have a moment?' said the elderly nun, her face a pattern of wrinkles in its white habit frame.

‘Of course,' Theresa said, standing back to allow her in.

She stood in the small room, taking in the austere furnishings that Theresa had tried to soften with bright crocheted blankets and the watercolours Missy had produced over the years.

‘It's a cosy little nest you've made here, isn't it?' She smiled at Theresa, the lines around her bespectacled eyes falling into rows from the many thousands of such smiles she had bestowed during her life. Theresa couldn't help but return it. This nun was the only one who had ever shown them true kindness during their harsh upbringing. She and Missy had always adored her, and had missed her since she'd retired.

‘Please, Sister, have a seat,' Missy said, settling her gently into a chair by the windowsill.

Sister Carmel thanked her and looked out at the hospital wall opposite.

‘A pity the wall sits here but I see the good Lord has blessed you with a rhododendron tree. Must be lovely for you in spring.'

‘Yes, we look forward to it each year,' Theresa said, nodding towards the thick green leaves that relieved their bland view and wondering at the timing of Sister Carmel's arrival.

‘I've heard of your commissions,' Sister Carmel said, turning back towards them, confirming Theresa's suspicions. Their old friend didn't leave the convent very often anymore, so she'd known there would be a particular reason for this visit. ‘And what do you make of it?' Her still-shrewd eyes were on Missy.

‘I am…That is to say I feel…it is probably my duty, I suppose. To do God's work,' Missy hedged. ‘If I must fight through the jungle for the Lord then I suppose that's my calling.'

Sister Carmel's eyes twinkled at her. ‘I don't believe you actually have to become a female Tarzan, my dear,' she said. ‘I've seen him at the pictures,' she confided. ‘Quite entertaining, I must say, but hardly what this work would involve. It will be more teaching and nursing work and the like. The villages are very primitive but quite settled. Terribly hot though, I hear say,' she nodded, fanning her face at the thought. ‘But there's a bit more to it than that, isn't there, my dears?'

‘Yes, Sister.'

‘Do you feel ready to take your vows and become a bride of Christ?'

Both girls stared at her and Missy finally blurted out the truth. ‘No. I mean, no offence, sister, but I…I don't.'

Sister Carmel nodded slowly. ‘And you, Theresa?'

‘Nor I, Sister. It is not what I would choose,' she replied honestly.

The old nun looked down to her pocket and slowly took out a letter.

‘I wrote this to you, then I decided I'd really rather come and see you myself to explain…' She paused, holding the envelope in her lap and seeming to search for words. ‘I know you won't mind me telling you this in front of Missy, Theresa. Heaven knows you would run and tell her what I'm about to say anyway. Never could keep you two apart.'

Theresa stared at the letter then back at the nun.

‘When you take your vows you give up your claims to all your worldly possessions, child and…well, I'm not sure if anyone has ever told you that you had quite a few things when you came to us.'

‘Things?' Theresa repeated.

‘Yes. The clothes were given away but there were other objects you may not be…keen to give up easily. Father O'Brien has them safely locked up, and I'm sure he will tell you about them before the ceremony, but I'm afraid you will feel that by then it is too late to change your mind.'

Theresa let that information soak in for a moment. ‘Or perhaps never tell me at all.'

Sister Carmel cast her eyes down and tapped at the letter. ‘I've prayed on this matter and I must do what is right,' she whispered. ‘I cannot watch you follow a religious vocation without knowing you have other choices in life.'

‘Won't you be in trouble for telling me?' Theresa asked, knowing the answer.

Sister Carmel lifted her gaze and it was soft with affection. ‘Never you mind about that.' She stood shakily and handed her the letter. ‘Vocation is a calling, girls, not a command.' She walked to the door, turning to Theresa before she left. ‘Ask for your possessions, child, then decide what you want in life. I'm sure that is what your grandmother would have wanted.'

Missy followed the old nun out to help her down the stairs, giving Theresa a moment to open the envelope and read the few lines contained within. It was a simple letter, written in the old nun's hand, summarising the words she had just spoken and ending with Sister Carmel's typical kindness:

I put these things away for you many years ago on your grandmother's behalf and if nothing else you deserve to hold these traces of her love. May God bless you and guide you al
ways.

Her grandmother. How Theresa had wondered about her and then to find out after all these years that there were possessions, things that belonged to her, was too exciting to believe. And then there was another emotion. There was anger. She walked to the window and clenched her fists. How dare they withhold this from her? It should have been given to her when she'd turned twenty-one and she knew full well that they were probably planning not to tell her. Father O'Brien had always been inclined to recruit the orphan ‘graduates' into the church, seeing it as a bounty provided by God. She wondered how many nuns and priests he'd procured in this way. Well, not her! And not Missy either. If this grandmother of hers had left her anything valuable she'd sell it and buy tickets to Sydney where they could fulfil Missy's greatest dream of taking to the stage and start living at last.

Mother Superior may well say ‘God will provide' but it was Sister Carmel who had proven it to be true.

Theresa stared at Father O'Brien's door. Next to this dreaded office Mother Superior's seemed like a picnic spot. She raised her hand, determined not to be intimidated by him, and knocked, trying to still her racing heart rate.

‘Enter.'

The priest finished what he had been writing and looked up at Theresa in mild surprise.

‘What is it, Theresa?'

‘I wonder if I might have a word, Father,' she said, trying to inject an air of confidence into her tone.

‘Take a seat,' he instructed, sitting back and looking rather impatient. ‘Although I haven't long, so you'd best be brief. I expect you've come to tell me of your decision to take your vows.'

Theresa decided she might as well just come out with it then. ‘No Father…I've come for my possessions.'

She saw a flicker of surprise that he quickly masked.