The Convent (45 page)

Sadie decided that she'd give it a go. She would do all Stan told her and more. She'd become a paragon of virtue. She'd write to Frank, tell him she'd changed her ways, beg his humble forgiveness for whatever it was that she'd done wrong.

She was a month into her new life, with the job making hats and the loneliness every night, when she got the letter. To save power she lit the fire with the matches that she always kept in her coat and laboriously read her letter by the red, flickering light.

Dear Mrs Reynolds,

After the last unfortunate visit we contacted the child's father and
told him of your distress. He has agreed for you to see the child.
Please be at the convent at two o'clock sharp on Sunday the 30th.

Yours sincerely in Christ,
Mother Mary Help of Christians

Sadie stared at the letter and read it again and again. Finally she dared believe that what she had in her hand was real. It had come by post, hadn't it? It wasn't some trick. And look, there was that woman's signature. Sunday was Sadie's birthday. That meant something, didn't it? Maybe Frank had remembered and relented. She'd begged him enough. Begged him and those sisters of his to have mercy. So … maybe it had come to pass.

But how would she ever be able to wait till then?

On Sunday morning she was up at six, dressed and bathed by seven and walking the streets trying to fill in time by nine.

Midday came and went and then she was waiting in a little sitting room in the convent. She could hear children's voices, chattering and crying and it made her edgy. How long were they going to make her wait? How long before she could gather her little one up in her arms?

The door opened and there she was – her own wee girl – wearing a little dress with a blue pinny over it, held in the armsof a young nun. Just behind came the older nun who Sadie had met in the night. Sadie stood nervously and watched as the young nun set Ellen down on the floor. Tears rushed into her eyes and her throat jammed as she knelt down and held out her arms.

‘Come to me,' she said. ‘It's your mumma.'

But the little girl only stared at her and clung tightly to the young nun's skirts. When Sadie spoke again Ellen hid her face in the nun's apron.

‘As you see, Mrs Reynolds, the child is well.'

Sadie could barely breathe. She edged a little closer and the child edged back.

‘Does she look neglected in any way?'

‘No, but—'

‘She loves her food.' The young nun smiled kindly at Sadie. ‘And she's growing well.'

There was a pause while they all looked at the child, who was coming back out from the nun's dress and staring hard at Sadie.

‘Come to Mumma,' Sadie coaxed, trying not to sound as desperate as she knew she looked, with her hat askew and her face still swollen where the tooth had been. ‘Come to Mumma.' Oh if only she hadn't worn her good clothes. The silly new hat and the gloves and the special suit made her look like someone else. ‘Ellen, darling.'

But the child slunk further into the nun's skirts.

‘Ellen is quite happy where she is, Mrs Reynolds,' said the older nun. ‘Aren't you, Ellen?'

The child stared out at them both, her deep eyes as round as little blue plates.

‘All the Sisters tell me you're a very happy little girl.' The older nun smiled. The little girl put her thumb in her mouth. ‘
Are
you a happy girl, Ellen?'

The child's big blue eyes moved over to the nun. She nodded.

The two nuns looked at each other and then at Sadie.

‘You see, she is happy with us.'

Sadie stared at the nun in shock. Whatever was happening, it was happening too fast. She couldn't keep up.

‘Do you want to go with this lady?' the nun asked the little girl.

This lady?

Ellen shook her head slowly.

‘No. You see?' The nun gave the younger nun a dismissive wave. ‘Thank you, Sister.' The young one nodded and took Ellen's hand, leading her out the door.

‘No!' Sadie clambered to her feet. ‘Please don't take her.'

The young nun stopped and looked at her Superior for directions.

‘I've got a new job now,' Sadie babbled desperately. ‘I make hats with a Mrs Simpson in Pigdon Street, Carlton. Mrs Simpson and Miss Valerie Wilson. Just the two of them, and they're very reputable women. It's above a shop. Number 507. She has written me a reference.' Sadie fumbled in her bag for the envelope. ‘Please, Sister, you can check. I'm never out at night now. I lead a very quiet life.'

‘My dear,' the nun cut in, a faint smile wavering on the edge of her mouth, ‘on the child's father's advice she is now a ward of the state. As such, she will continue to reside here.'

Sadie gulped and knelt down at the Reverend Mother's feet.

‘Please.' She reached for the edge of the nun's habit, and bowed to the floor. ‘I'll do anything.'

When she looked up they were alone. She was on her knees in front of the senior nun and the young nun had slipped out with her little girl.

‘We must act in the best interests of the child, Mrs Reynolds,' the nun said in her quiet, cool manner. ‘You have seen for yourself that she is well. Come now, dear.' Pale hands came out from under the habit and fluttered abstractedly in the air. ‘Get up now.'

Once Sadie had stumbled to her feet, the nun went to the door and opened it.

‘Now I'll get Mother Sebastian to see you out.' Her face moved into the shape of a smile. ‘God bless you, dear.'

Sadie watched mesmerised as the figure in black glided out of the room. She thought of the spiders crawling up the walls of the outhouse at home. So big and black it didn't matter that everyone said they were harmless. They terrified her.

Very soon another nun appeared, older and more kindly. When Sadie slumped forward as though about to faint the nun took her arm to help her stay upright and held it all the way out to the gate.

‘Now now, dear, take heart,' she murmured in her thick Irish brogue. ‘All is not lost. Our Lord is with you.' Sadie let herself be led out the way she'd come, a weird rushing sound in her ears. Almost as if someone had left a tap on full bore.

The old nun saw her out on the street. ‘Now you're not to be coming back, dear,' she said gently. ‘It's over now, you understand? Over.'

‘Yes, Mother.'

Peach

‘Will you have another cup of tea, Perpetua?' Ellen digs in the pocket of her dress and wipes her eyes.

‘Yes, please. But I'll make it.' I get up and switch on the kettle and then get the cups out again. The yellow kitchen is darkening in the late afternoon.

‘What happened to her after that?' I ask.

‘I don't know.' Her voice is tired now. ‘But I would like to see where she is buried before I die.'

‘Do you know where that is? I can try to find that out for you, Ellen.'

‘Would you do that?'

‘We could go there together.'

Her face breaks into a warm smile; her weathered hand sneaks across the table towards mine.

‘I'm just a sentimental old fool, Perpetua, but I'd like to tell her I'm sorry I didn't rush into her arms that day.'

‘And your father?'

‘Every Sunday, hail or shine, he came to take me out.' Ellen smiles. ‘I was devastated when he died. He was all the family I had in the world, you understand, except for his sisters, but … they didn't accept me.'

‘Didn't you ask him about your mother?'

‘We didn't ask questions in those days, love,' she says for the second time, shaking her head as though the truth of it is baffling to her as well. ‘Not like now. People didn't talk about such things. He just gave me to believe that there was something not right about her, and as much as I longed to know, I couldn't ask.'

We are silent on the way home, sitting in our allotted seats. I stare at the back of Fluke's head again.

‘Are you glad you came, Peach?' Stella asks.

‘Oh, I dunno,' I say, trying to sound normal, ‘suppose so.'

‘Did she tell you stuff?'

‘Yeah,' I smile, ‘a bit.'

‘Are you going to see her again?'

‘Yeah, I think so.'

‘When?' Fluke's voice.

I thought you said you weren't going to talk to me, dickhead!

‘First, I'm going to try and find her mother's grave,' I say, looking out the window, ‘then I'll take her there.' I don't turn around, but I have the feeling that they are a little shocked by what I just said.

‘
Why?
' Det groans.

‘Shut up, Det,' from Stella.

‘What do people expect to find at gravesites?'

I am on the point of reminding Det that she'd told me once that when her father died she used to hitch rides to the local cemetery where he was buried and stay there for hours.

‘She's nearly ninety,' I say instead, ‘and she wants to see her mother's grave before she dies. There is nothing wrong with that. Where do I start looking for it?'

‘Have you got her full name?'

‘No,' I say, feeling stupid, ‘but I will.'

‘She should be easy enough to trace.'

‘I really wish that your birth mum would go and see her before she dies,' Stella moans. ‘Doesn't anyone know where she is?'

‘Nope,' I say, ‘none of the brothers know.'

‘Can we stop soon, Fluke?' Det asks sharply. ‘I mean, when it's safe?'

‘You need a wee?'

‘And a cigarette.' She turns to me defensively. ‘I haven't had one all day.'

‘Don't look at me,' I say irritably. ‘I'm not your conscience.'

‘Ah,' she laughs softly, ‘but you are, Peach.'

Fluke pulls over and Det jumps out and disappears down the slope to pee. The rest of us get out and lean against the car. Fluke goes up the front and leans against the bonnet, leaving Stella and me at the side. When Det gets back she plonks herself next to Fluke and starts rolling the smoke. The day is closing down around us. We're out in the country, and despite it being the freeway with cars roaring past, it's kind of nice.

Det drags hard on her smoke and doesn't say anything for a while. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Finally she butts out the smoke with her boot and opens the car door.

‘Thanks for that.' Then she pats her tummy. ‘Sorry, kid.'

We climb in again and Fluke puts the key into the ignition.

‘I've met her,' Det says suddenly, and then looks at me. ‘Your birth mother, I mean. I've met her.'

There is stillness. We wait for Fluke to start the engine. My head flips into reverse gear and I replay the last few moments.

‘What did you say, Det?' Fluke says, turning around to face her.
Oh good, I can relax. It isn't just me. He heard wrong too.

‘I've met Cecilia,' Det says. ‘Peach's mother.'

She winds down the window on her side and puts her head out like she might need air. ‘She's back from overseas and has been hanging around the convent a bit. Anyway, I recognised her. She came up to my room and had a look at the paintings.' Det brings her head back in and faces me. ‘I told her not to come back.'

I start to move, slowly at first, ever so slowly. I just breathe in and out a few times and then I reach for the doorhandle and lift it. I make sure I've got my bag on my shoulder and then I make a dash for it, slamming the door behind me. I run back along the highway the way we've come, remembering the huge petrol station not too far back. I'll be able to get a ride back home or … I don't rightly know what I'm going to do, but I'm in full control and being quite sensible. I just can't handle any of this anymore. I know I will not be able to be in that car with those people for the rest of the trip. If needs be, I'll go back to Castlemaine and catch the train back to the city.

I hear footsteps behind me. I quicken my pace. Det won't be able to catch me. Tears are stinging my eyes. Fuck! I wish things weren't such a mess. I feel a hand grasping my elbow, pulling me around and I wrench myself away. It's not that I blame Det for this. I never can blame Det for anything. But I have to tell her to leave me alone. Only that … I have to be left alone.

Leave me alone … please.

But it's Fluke. Fluke. Pulling me towards him. The bastard. Part of me thinks he was waiting for something like this to happen. That's why he offered to take us. But it feels so good to have his arms around me.

It's just him and me on the side of the highway. And all the big trucks have their lights on and one of them sounds a loud horn as he passes.

‘This is dangerous,' I say. I'm shuddering and crying too, I think, my hands over my face.

‘I know,' he says and keeps hugging me.

Then he grabs me tighter and kisses me, first on one cheek and then on the other and then on the mouth. And this I can't explain. I give myself over to it. It only last a few moments but I haven't kissed anyone for so long and it feels so wonderful, as if I've come home to something I thought I'd never feel again.