The Convent (47 page)

Mother Gabriel would have been a good-looking woman in her day. Even now, although her face was lined and she was in her early seventies, her bone structure held firm under the fine pale skin. She was tall, with brown eyes and a small nose. Her figure was upright and neat with not an ounce of extra fat.

‘Now, where were we?' The older woman sat down again. ‘You do look very tired,' she said, peering at Cecilia closely. ‘We do notice such things, my dear.'

‘Yes, Mother.'

She knows!
Cecilia thought.
I have told no one, and yet she knows.
But how could she?
Cecilia had seen this strategy at work before. The display of concern was intended to upset the balance of Cecilia's inner resolve. Of course Mother knew. This nun knew her better than she knew herself. Knew all her faults and inner angst. Nothing was hidden. Cecilia had been fully professed now for close on five years, and every week they had to confess their shortcomings in front of the whole congregation. Not that Cecilia had given even a hint of the momentous decision she'd come to.

Cecilia averted her eyes as the nun continued to look at her.

‘Have you been eating well, dear?'

‘I've come to speak of something very important, Mother,' Cecilia said desperately. ‘Something I can no longer remain silent about.'

The Superior nodded. ‘I assumed as much, seeing as we've hardly spoken since last year.'

Cecilia flushed. This was a rebuke for her lack of acceptance of the nun's decision to refuse permission for her brother to visit before he went overseas. Michael had written to Reverend Mother well in advance, telling her of his decision to move to Italy with his Italian wife and children, and
most humbly requesting special permission
to visit Cecilia outside visiting hours to say goodbye
. The request had been
sorrowfully denied
on the grounds that they were an enclosed order and that if exceptions were made to the rule then they would have to be made for everyone.

But Cecilia had made the mistake of asking the nun to reconsider the decision on the grounds that she might never see him again. That earlier exchange played out in her head as she watched the older woman settle herself back down in her chair and arrange her hands on her lap. Beautiful hands they were, with fine long fingers and oval nails.

‘I'm sorry that you have seen fit to question my decision, Annunciata.' The cold fury behind the words had been terrifying.

‘It's just that …' Cecilia had stammered.

‘Just that
what
, dear?'

‘That I think that—'

‘What
you
think is beside the point!' The Superior had cut across her like a sharp blade slicing into soft cake.

The shock of her anger had made breathing difficult. Cecilia could do nothing but hang her head.

‘Do I make myself clear?'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘Then let us hear no more about it.'

‘Thank you, Mother.' But what was the point of dwelling on it? They
were
an enclosed order. By committing herself to this way of life she had willingly agreed to forgo all the normal relationships with family and friends. The visiting rule was two hours every first Sunday of the month. No exceptions. None. She knew it.

Concentrate on now
, she told herself sternly,
just say what you've
practised
. She knew if she didn't keep focused then she'd be likely to lose her nerve completely.

‘Mother, I've come to humbly ask that you write to the Holy Father in Rome asking that I might be released from my vows.' Her voice cracked and she thought for one dreadful moment that she might burst into tears. ‘I … have thought and prayed long and hard about this, and I am absolutely sure that
I … must … leave
,' she stammered wretchedly, and looked up to see the older woman still smiling at her.

Nothing was said for close on a minute. Cecilia watched the second hand making its steady progress, and even noted the short click of the minute hand. Every now and again she allowed her eyes to flicker to the nun who was continuing to stare straight at her, still with the fixed smile. Cecilia had geared herself up for this ,but it was hard to withstand. Her throat jammed with tears when she thought of how she hadn't been allowed to go to her father's funeral … Instead of admonishing herself for her bitterness as she would have done in the past, she purposefully dwelt on it and let it grow. The anger would keep her focused and give her strength. On the face of it, her father had been a tyrant and a bully, and yet she'd loved him beyond all reasoning and she was his only daughter. She had wanted so much to see him buried and to pray over his grave.

‘Well …' The older nun sighed. ‘And here I was thinking that our dear Sister Annunciata had dealt with her demons at last. That she might be coming here today to express some kind of explanation for her attitude over the last few months.'

Cecilia was speechless.
My attitude?
Hadn't she done everything expected of her? And more? She was supervising the laundry most days, working late into the night sometimes, well after the girls had gone to bed if there was a big job to finish and they were running behind. She went to the university two afternoons a week and was on the Sacred Heart dorm five nights out of seven, and only after that was finished could she even look at her university work, which would take her to midnight most nights. Then she was up again at five-thirty for Lauds. She was worked to the bone and yet it wasn't enough.
Nothing is ever enough
.

‘You have been so reticent of late.' The Superior smiled grimly. ‘I began to wonder if our Sister Annunciata was going to sulk forever about not being able to farewell her father.'

Had she sulked?
Cecilia swallowed desperately. If she was to stay on track, then it wouldn't do for her to be waylaid by this woman's sly innuendos and accusations. ‘You usually run the Christmas concert, and last year you had nothing to do with it.'

‘I've no voice, but I sang and—'

‘But you're usually the one in charge.'

‘It was time for someone else to have a turn.'

‘Hmm …' The older woman was leaning in towards her. The glittering blue of her eyes pierced Cecilia's resolve, making her doubt everything about herself, making her forget what it was she'd come in to say. ‘So, what are these black rings under your eyes about, my dear?'

‘I have trouble sleeping, Mother.'

‘But that is terrible.'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘No one can function without sleep.'

‘No, Mother.'

The Superior leant in closer and smiled gently. ‘And no one can decide anything without sleep either.'

‘No, Mother.'

‘You've been with us for … how many years, dear?'

‘Nearly ten years, Mother.'
As you well know.

Reverend Mother shook her head thoughtfully. ‘And you made your final profession five years ago?'

‘Yes … it is a long time,' Cecilia whispered.

‘And you are … how old?'

‘Almost thirty, Mother.'

‘And you've been happy with us for much of that time?'

‘Very happy, Mother.'

‘Listen to me, child. Your father and your dear brother are dead. Another beloved brother has gone abroad, perhaps forever, and you're worried about your mother up there on the farm alone.'

‘Yes—'

The nun held up one hand to silence her.

‘Life
has
been very hard for you of late and that will affect the way you see things. The work here is difficult and you've found it so, haven't you?'

Cecilia gulped and looked away.

‘Am I right?'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘Some of the girls are very difficult.'

‘Yes … I've had cause to think about a lot of other things.'

‘And that is how it should be!' the nun said firmly.

‘I mean our girls,' Cecilia said. ‘Most of them are just poor. Why should they be punished so?'

‘Punished?' The older woman looked amused. ‘What on earth do you mean?'

‘They have no say over their lives.'

‘Everyone has a say over her life, Sister,' the Prioress cut in coldly. ‘May I remind you that the Magdalen girls have been sent to us because they have either transgressed society's laws or have been found to be in grave moral danger?'

‘By getting drunk with some boy and stealing a pair of shoes?' Cecilia said angrily. ‘Or not having a family to take care of them?'

‘Yes, all that!' The Prioress stood up and went to the window. There was silence for a while. ‘And you more than anyone know that our girls and women are cared for here. Because you are so very good at it.'

‘I don't think that I'm special in any way. I—'

‘Yes, you are. The girls love you.'

It's true. I'm good with those girls.

‘We need bright young women like you, Sister Annunciata,' Mother Gabriel went on relentlessly. ‘That you see fit to question some of our practices is a good thing!'

Cecilia stared at her.
A good thing?
She thought bitterly of her noviciate when to question
anything
was considered sacrilege
.
The older woman smiled as though she could read her mind.

‘Why do you think
you
were chosen for university when others were passed over?'

Cecilia shook her head. She honestly didn't know. Only that she'd been so pleased.

‘Because even five years ago we realised that the order was at a crossroads. Our community needs Sisters with education and ideas.'

Cecilia lowered her head.
This woman will kill me.

‘We saw your potential. All of us, Mother Leonard Sebastian along with Help of Christians, we've all noticed your abilities. When the time comes, my dear, you may well be the one to bring our whole community forward into an exciting new era.'

Cecilia's mouth fell open.
When the time comes? What was she
saying?

‘Yes, my dear.' The older woman gave one of her musical laughs. ‘I would like to see you sitting behind this desk one day. You think and learn quickly. You have a good head for figures, and, most importantly, an ability to combine your compassionate nature with a rigorous, practical attitude. Rare indeed! From the start you saw that the break-up of the girls into family groups was a positive move. So much of our progress over the last few years has involved you.'

Cecilia was suddenly terrified.
‘
But, Mother, I feel—'

‘Please, dear, put your feelings aside for the moment and listen carefully.'

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘All I ask is that you wait a little while and that you pray.'

‘I have prayed about it!' Cecilia protested before she could think. ‘For weeks, months!'

The Prioress held up one hand and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. ‘Pray deeply with an open heart for Our Lord's guidance, my dear.'

‘Yes, Mother.' Cecilia felt slightly dazed. The woman's eyes were boring into her own.

‘As you know, others of your group have left. Paula and Jane Francis to name just two. I was sorry to see them go, but I accepted that it was probably the right decision for them. But for you, Sister Annunciata, I feel deeply that you have been called by God to this way of life. I felt it strongly at your reception and I feel it now.'

‘Please, Mother—'

‘Of course you can leave whenever you like, dear.' She waved her arm at the door. ‘You can walk out of this room and onto the street right now should you so desire.'

‘Mother, I don't want to do that.'

‘Of course you don't.' Mother Gabriel shook her head. ‘No one would want that. To leave as Perpetua did would be completely …
unnecessary
.'

Cecilia stared at her. This was the first time Breda had been mentioned by any of them. But remembering her friend's hasty departure had the opposite effect to what was intended. It brought Cecilia back to her former resolve with a whoosh. Everything became clear again.

Breda.
How she missed her. That tinny little radio that she kept hidden under her mattress! The pictures of football stars she slotted into her missal. The way she taught the laundry girls to dance rock-and-roll on Saturday nights.
Okay, divide into pairs. Tall girls
are the blokes.
Breda had the sourest of those girls laughing with a flick of her fingers.

Mother Gabriel was smiling, waiting for a response, but Cecilia was already gone. There were formalities to be got through, that was all, and it was remembering Breda that did it. Remembering her wilfulness, her passionate and impatient spirit. How repugnant to her would be a meeting like this one. She was always one for getting things done fast and furiously.

Just leave
. Cecilia could almost hear her.
Too bad if they want you
to stay. You don't have to. And you don't have to be polite either. Just go!
Piss off, kid!

Cecilia stood up.

‘I have made up my mind, Mother,' she said firmly. ‘I am formally asking you to write to the Holy Father in Rome to humbly request that I might be relieved of my solemn vows. My life as a nun in this convent is no longer possible.'

‘I see,' Mother Gabriel said coldly, and stood up too. ‘Very well.'

They stood looking at each other for a few moments and then, quite suddenly, all tension, enmity and suspicion was gone. It simply faded away, like heat leaving through an opened window at the end of a hot day. A wave of sadness broke inside Cecilia, bringing a rush of tears to her eyes. This proud, intelligent woman had been her Mother, Sister, Teacher and Friend for more than a decade. Cecilia wanted to grab both of those beautiful hands in her own and kiss them. She wanted to thank her, beg forgiveness and ask her blessing.