The Convent (30 page)

‘Mother and Sisters, I humbly accuse myself of breaking the Great Silence twice during the last week and …' Cecilia hesitated, feeling her face grow hot, ‘and also of being negligent in my work with the girls.'

It was Friday night and the Chapter of Faults was progressing slowly. Cecilia had come forward to kneel at Mother Holy Angels's feet. Behind her the novices and postulants shifted on their knees wearily. She'd been dreading this all day and still held out hope that she might be spared having to go into details.

‘In what way negligent, Sister?'
No such luck.
Mother was sitting upright in her large chair in front of the whole community, her eyes bright and alert in the soft light coming in through the windows, her right hand playing with her rosary.

Cecilia hesitated. There was no way out of this. Knowing that Mother Bernard, the nun in charge of the laundry, would have already told Mother Holy Angels the gist of what happened was making her feel sick.

‘There was an altercation in the laundry, Mother, and I forgot my prime responsibility.'

‘Forgot?'

Cecilia heard the sympathetic intake of breath from the novices behind.

‘A fight broke out between two girls in the laundry, Mother. It quickly escalated with the others taking sides.'

‘So a dangerous situation?'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘What was the fight about?' Mother asked.

She knows what happened, but she wants to make it hard for me so
I'll give up the poetry group.

‘It was about the little poetry group, Mother.'

‘The poetry group?'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘What about it, Sister?'

‘The roles, Mother.'

‘The roles?'

The Sacred Heart girls worked in the laundry all day, five days a week, as well as Saturday mornings. They had a few hours on Saturday afternoons for leisure activities like needlework or cooking classes or basketball. Many girls were not interested in any of the activities and spent the time mooching around aimlessly in the few hours before Benediction. In that atmosphere, gangs often formed, gossip was traded and vendettas were carried out over trifling offences. To counter this, Cecilia had sought permission to start a little poetry group with some of the girls. There was no library, nor access to one, but she'd spied
The Complete Works of
Shakespeare
getting dusty sitting up on the shelf in the recreation room amid the many volumes of pious literature. And so she asked if she might borrow it and write some of the famous speeches on the board for the girls to copy and learn off by heart. Initially the small group of eight or ten girls had not been enthusiastic, but when she began to tell them about
Romeo and Juliet
– the play she'd studied in matriculation – they became excited. It was about love and they were interested in love even if the language was impenetrable. One of them suggested they learn some of it, dress up and ‘play' it at the end-of-year concert.

Mother Holy Angels had been most unenthusiastic. ‘That kind of thing is too difficult for these girls,' she told Cecilia. ‘Remember, most of them can't manage even the simple things in life. Some nice songs for the end of the year would make more sense.'

But when Cecilia confessed her lack of any musical aptitude, Mother Holy Angels reluctantly relented. ‘Well, one can only hope it might improve their language,' she'd said tartly.

‘And so, Sister? What happened?'

‘Mavis Banes badly wanted the main male role of Romeo, but I gave it to Faye Slattery who looks more the part of a boy and Mavis took offence.'

‘That child would take offence at anything,' Mother muttered.

That child?
Cecilia felt like reminding the nun that the girl was twenty-four, older than Cecilia herself. Mavis was heavy and clumsy and, it had to be said, rather slow. She'd not done well at the family placement she'd been assigned to earlier that year – the mother of thirteen children had sent her home early, reporting that Mavis had been worse than useless. But having no interest in little children was hardly a crime.

‘Go on, Sister.'

‘Unfortunately they were both allotted to the ironing room on Wednesday morning. They used the opportunity to snipe and to rouse each other up.'

‘Which is why we have prayers throughout the working day, Sister!' the Mistress of Novices cut in sharply. ‘Prayers and hymns to keep the girls focused on their work.'

‘Yes, Mother.' Cecilia felt her jaw tighten. ‘But it is sometimes hard to keep the girls praying
all
day, especially in the hot weather.'

‘Be that as it may, Sister,' Mother sighed. ‘It works to quell frustration and rebelliousness.'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘Then what, Sister?'

‘Well, Mavis kept calling Faye names, implying that she was a … well, that she had loose morals and the like.' Cecilia flushed. The dreadful words the girls had used were simply unrepeatable. ‘Then they began to slap and pull at each other, and I was afraid that—'

‘As well you might be!' the Mistress of Novices said indignantly. ‘The hot presses are very dangerous and all the irons would have been on. Something terrible could have happened, Sister. You and I both know there is
always
someone nearby for just such occurrences. You only had to ring the bell.'

‘Yes, Mother.' Cecilia hung her head. She loathed calling in reinforcements.

‘And then?'

Cecilia felt weary.
How long was this going to take? Why so much
detail?
‘They were rolling around the floor clawing at each other,' she whispered, ‘so I went over and … I sat on Mavis.'

A sudden soft ripple of mirth broke out behind her. Cecilia looked up hopefully, but Mother Holy Angels was not amused.

‘You
sat
on her?'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘It is against our Rule to touch the girls, Sister,' she said severely, ‘much less
sit
on them!'

‘It was very remiss of me, Mother.'
But was it?
In fact, sitting on Mavis had worked beautifully. The tough girls had Cecilia sussed out as a softie very early on, and when she supervised them at meals or at work in the laundry their scorn was barely disguised. She was a nun, yes, and so she got surface respect, but as soon as her eyes moved or she turned her back they returned to their tricks.

When she'd panicked and sat on Mavis to try to stop the fight, the rest of the girls who'd gathered around to cheer on the two combatants pulled back in complete amazement. There was a few seconds of silence as they took in the sight of Cecilia, in full habit, her white veil awry and her legs poking out the end of her voluminous dress, sitting on the toughest girl among them, who was sprawled out on the floor. Then everyone had burst out laughing. Even Mavis.

‘You okay, Mother?'

‘Need a hand up, Mother?'

It had been one of the sweetest moments in Cecilia's life until she realised that Mother Bernard had been watching the whole incident from the doorway. Her face like thunder, the older nun had come pounding over, pulled both girls roughly to their feet by the hair and virtually thrown them back at the ironing presses.

‘We have two hotels to get through before the end of the day!' she'd shrieked.

Faces dark and sour, the girls did as they were told.

‘Where is your gratitude for all that has been done for you?' The old nun walked up and down between the lines of ironing girls. ‘Do any of you ever wonder why you are here? No? Well, let me enlighten you. Because no one else will have you! No surprise to me that your families don't want you. No decent man would ever want to marry the likes of most of you.'

When she finally came to the end of her rant, red-faced and puffing with indignation, she began a decade of the rosary.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost
…

Most of the girls answered mechanically, just as they worked, in unison, folding the freshly laundered sheets and pillowcases into the presses, checking the lists from the hotels and carting the finished piles into the packing room.

Holy Mary, Mother of God.

Their voices murmured under the clanking of the machines like the low, monotonous sound of a well-oiled engine.

But once Mother Bernard had gone, the girls turned one by one to give Cecilia their shy smiles. On their way out to lunch, Mavis had apologised.

‘Sorry, Mother,' she said as if she really meant it.

Then a few others muttered the same. ‘God bless you, Mother. God bless you.'

‘God bless you, girls.' Cecilia's eyes had filled with tears. ‘God bless you all.'

When everyone was gone, Mother Aloysius had come in from the mangle room to walk out with Cecilia.

‘I heard all that,' the sweet-faced Irish nun chortled, raising her eyes to heaven.‘Mother Bernard must have got out on the wrong side this morning.' She smiled at Cecilia and took her arm.

‘You did well, dearie,' she whispered.

‘Oh Mother.' Cecilia shook her head in consternation. ‘I wish I had your knack.'

The girls all loved the cheery Mother Aloysius. She was able to keep full control and get the work done without ever raising her voice or getting angry.

‘Have the girls in question been corrected?' Mother Holy Angels was asking now.

‘Mavis said she was very sorry, Mother,' Cecilia said. ‘I decided to leave it at that.'

‘And the other girl?'

‘Well, the other one was Faye, Mother.' Cecilia hesitated, unsure if Mother remembered that Faye had only been back from St Joseph's in Broadmeadows a few weeks. ‘Faye Slattery. She said she was very sorry too,' she added quickly.

Mother Holy Angels gave a deep sigh, closed her eyes and shook her head.

With dismay Cecilia realised that she'd just
lied
to the Mistress of Novices.
Oh dear Lord!
The girl hadn't apologised at all.

Faye had been only fourteen years old when she first came to live at the convent some months before. Her parents had asked the Sisters to take her in because she kept running away from home and had been expelled from two schools and was now completely unmanageable. No one knew she was pregnant. She was so very young, so quiet and watchful. Something about her had made Cecilia warm to her straight away.

When her pregnancy became obvious nothing was said, but she was put on lighter duties in the packing room until her time came. Then she was taken to Broadmeadows by ambulance to have her baby. Ten days later she was back again, working in the laundry. In the three weeks she'd been back she hadn't caused any trouble at all until the fight with Mavis.

But Cecilia had noticed the heavy dark rings under the girl's eyes, and the fact that she barely spoke now. At break times she lurked around the canteen or sat alone on the steps leading into the little chapel, just staring into space.

It was strictly forbidden for the girls to talk about their pasts to each other or anyone else. Situations that couldn't be changed should be forgotten. Indeed, the girls were given new names to help them forget their old selves.

Cecilia knew the rules, but Faye was so friendless. None of the other girls liked her. Even those who'd had to give up babies themselves had no sympathy. She'd heard them complaining about her crying at night.

‘
What's with her?
'

‘
I'm going to gag her tonight.'

‘
She acts like it's never happened to anyone else before!
'

‘Faye needs a little time, Mother,' Cecilia said desperately.

‘I see.' Mother Holy Angels shook her head. ‘And yet she wants to recite Shakespeare?' A smile played around her mouth.

‘She does, Mother.'

‘Well well.' The old nun sighed again.

Cecilia had given Faye the role of Romeo because she was tall and thin, but it was more than that. There was a fierce intelligence in her pale, solemn face, and such gravity in the deep grey eyes. Cecilia found herself thinking of the girl at odd times, wondering how she might be able to help her and saw again the sudden flush of pleasure on the sad girl's face when told she would make a good Romeo.

‘Would you like to do it, Faye?'

The girl had nodded quickly and then lowered her eyes as though she might be going to cry.

‘You think you can learn all those lines?'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘You will spend some time in quiet meditation, Sister Annunciata,' the Mistress of Novices was saying, ‘paying particular attention to the rule of obedience.'

‘Yes, Mother.'

And then, as though she could read the anguish in Cecilia's heart, ‘And let me remind you again that we do
not
become familiar with the girls in our care, nor single one girl out for special attention. It is
not
what we are here for.'

‘Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother.'

The novices stayed on their knees until Mother Holy Angels had swept out of the room.

‘So what
are
we here for?' Sister Jane Francis said, loud enough for them all to hear.

Peach

Every time Mum and Dad ring I'm on the point of telling them about the letter and the photos and everything, but then I chicken out and tell myself it can all wait until they get home. I do tell them about Det's pregnancy, though, and after the shock they become immediately supportive. When they ask all about her living arrangements and what plans she's made I feel foolish because I don't know much at all. When they suggest she move in with us I try to buy time by thinking up excuses.

‘But … there isn't room.'

‘Nana's room isn't being used,' Mum says.

‘But I don't think she'd want to. I mean, she's so—'

‘Try her,' Dad cuts in dryly.

‘If she won't move into Nana's room, then suggest the bungalow,' Mum persists.