12 The Family Way (28 page)

“No you won’t,” Elaine said. “Of course you were shocked. Anyone would be.”

So my letter to Sid and Gus was somewhere on the floor of that room with the spilled food. It would be only a matter of time before it was found and then Sister would know the truth about me. I didn’t have time to wait for rescue by Sid and Gus, or to find out about Maureen. I had to save myself somehow tonight.

“Do you think someone ought to go and clean up that tray?” I asked.

“I’m not going back in there,” Aggie said.

“I think we all ought to stay well away,” Gerda said. “They won’t want us getting under their feet and spilled food is the least of their worries.”

I just prayed that a letter hidden under liver and gravy would be the least of their worries enough to be overlooked until morning.

Nobody felt much like eating. I managed a couple of spoonfuls of rice pudding because that slipped down easily, but most of the food went back to the kitchen. The kitchen crew did the washing up and the rest of us went through to the common room. But nobody felt like talking either. It was growing dark in the room. A lamp had been lit and a couple of girls sat beside it, working at their sewing, one darning stockings, one mending sheets. One other was knitting a baby jacket. I had no work to do and perched on a hard chair, feeling awkward, wondering if there was any way I could get to the room where Blanche killed herself and retrieve that letter. They would have to summon a doctor to certify her death. And maybe a policeman too. The other sisters would have been called in. Would this be my chance to get out? It didn’t seem right that I should use poor Blanche’s death for my own advantage, but I worried what would happen if Sister read that letter and found out that I wasn’t who I claimed to be.

I left the other girls to their sewing and walked quietly down the hall toward the one door that led through to the other half of the convent. That door wouldn’t open. Even in her haste Sister had remembered to lock it. It was almost dark now in that windowless stairwell. A little light came down the stairs from above, enough for me to make out the shapes of the various doors. I went across the hallway and pushed open the chapel door. It swung open easily and I stepped into dark silence, breathing in the sweet incense smell. The chapel had been gloomy even in full daylight. Now that the sun had set it had faded into darkness. My heart was beating fast as I felt my way past the rows of pews, up to the altar steps then crossed to the nun’s portion of the chapel. I realized I hadn’t retrieved my things from the bedroom. But there was nothing of great value among them apart from my wedding ring and I wasn’t going to turn down a chance at freedom.

My eyes had now accustomed themselves to the fading light. I walked past the prie-dieux with their kneelers until I reached the door in the back wall. It was locked. It wouldn’t be opened again until the next office at eight o’clock, which must be quite soon now. If I could find somewhere to hide until then, I could wait until all the nuns were at prayer and slip out behind them. I looked for a place to hide. Day was fast dying now and in the gloom the chapel became a frightening place. Statues loomed out at me from their niches and I realized something unnerving—there was no form of proper lighting in this chapel—no electric light or even a gas bracket. There were occasional sconces for candles along the walls, and of course there were candlesticks on the high altar but I had nothing to light candles with.

I could not bring myself to stay here alone in darkness. Call me a coward, but I’ve always been afraid of the dark. I suppose it was the Irish upbringing with all our tales of ghosts and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. During my life in New York I hadn’t really had to face this fear, with well-lit streets and electric lights. But in a place like this—a place of such tension and secrets, where girls had died—it resurfaced with a vengeance. I could feel panic gripping at my throat, making it impossible to breathe. As I stood there I felt a cold draft creeping around my legs and feet and it seemed as if I could hear someone breathing. The wind had picked up and was rattling at the tall windows, scratching at them like bony fingers, and through the sigh of the wind I thought I could hear voices—one voice maybe, whispering, “Come and find me, Molly. Come and find me.”

I didn’t wait a second longer. I stumbled my way back to the altar steps then all the way to the back of my side of the chapel. For a horrible moment my fingers touched rough stone wall where I thought the door should be. I felt my way around until finally I made out the doorframe and pushed open that door. I came bursting out to relative safety, still breathing hard. Then I hurried back to the other girls. Safety in numbers, I muttered to myself.

Of course once I was back in a place of light and company I felt ashamed of my moment of panic. If I had only held my ground, I might have found a hiding place and been out of that door within the next hour. I reasoned with myself that it would be more sensible to plan my escape for the eight o’clock mass in the morning, when girls and nuns were in the chapel at the same time. When a priest was here—an outsider who would surely help me. I would rise early and find my hiding place, and if I couldn’t find one, then I’d be ready to go up to the priest the moment mass had finished and beg for his help.

I realized too that I probably only had one chance. If that failed Sister Jerome would take stronger measures to keep me here.

Twenty-eight

No sooner had I returned to the other girls than the bell began to toll. Those girls who had been sewing and knitting put down their work, the lamp was extinguished, two candles were lit, and we followed the candlelight upstairs to the dormitory.

“I know I’ll never be able to sleep,” Aggie said, sinking down onto the bed next to mine.

I nodded sympathetically. “It must have been awful for you. I feel so badly. I didn’t want Sister to make Blanche leave, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Of course not. She wanted Blanche out and nothing was going to change that.” She pulled off her uniform dress and knelt beside her bed to say her prayers. I was touched by her innocence and found myself wishing that my religion still meant something to me and that I could pray like that. I had plenty I wanted to pray for tonight, the most pressing item being that I’d be able to go back to my real life, my friends, and my husband, in the morning. That my baby and I would be safe. I too undressed and lay in bed, feeling the coarse roughness of the nightgown against my skin and breathing in the unfamiliar smell of damp and mold, mingled with a tinge of carbolic soap from the laundry and just a hint of antiseptic.

One of the girls went over and blew out the candles, plunging us into complete darkness. Used to a place of streetlamps and city noise that never died down completely, the silence and darkness were overwhelming.

Daniel, I wish you were here,
I thought.
I wish you’d come and take me home. I wouldn’t care how much you shouted at me for my stupidity. Because I have been stupid, and proud and overconfident in my abilities. As usual I haven’t thought things through to see what might go wrong. And I promise I’ll never do it again if only I get out of here safely.

One by one the other girls fell asleep and I lay there listening to their heavy rhythmic breathing. From outside came the hoot of an owl. Images danced in front of my eyes in the darkness. And that whispered voice in the chapel,
Come and find me.
Was that my heightened imagination or had I really heard something? How could I hope to find Maureen if I was locked away here, I thought. And my first task is to save myself and my baby. I can’t risk lingering any longer to see what might have happened to her. If she is among the novices, I’ll spot her during mass in the morning. If not, then I’ll have to admit that I’ve failed and she will never be found.

I suppose I must have been drifting off to sleep when I was awoken by a bloodcurdling scream. I sat bolt upright. Moonlight was coming in through that high window and I could see Aggie standing beside her bed, doubled over, clutching her stomach and screaming. On the floor at her feet I could make out a dark puddle.

“I’m dying!” she screamed.

Other girls were sitting up now. “She’s gone into labor. Get Sister,” one of them said. “You’re not dying, Aggie. Stop making a fuss. It’s only labor pains.”

“I’ll get Sister,” I said. My fingers trembled as I tried to light the candle. I felt my way along the hall, down the stairs. I knew which door belonged to Sister Jerome and I hammered on it now. It opened with great force and Sister herself stood there, dressed in a voluminous nightdress and a white cap on her head. “What is it?” she demanded.

“It’s Aggie. She’s gone into labor, I think. She says she’s dying.”

“Stupid girl. Always inconsiderate, going into labor in the middle of the night,” she snapped. “Hold that candle up so I can see.”

She took her habit from a hook on her wall, pulled it over her head, then tied her belt with the keys on it. Lastly she draped the veil over her head. “The wimple will have to wait,” she said, as she stepped into carpet slippers.

“Do you want me to wake Sister Angelique?” I asked.

“She sleeps in her cell with the other sisters,” she said. “I’ll go and wake her after I see what’s happening with Aggie.” She slammed her door behind her and took the stairs at a great pace. I tried to keep up without letting the candle be blown out.

“Stop this nonsense at once, Aggie,” I heard her say as she came into the dormitory.

“But I’m dying,” the girl gasped. “Look, there’s blood all over the floor.”

“That’s not blood. Your water broke, silly girl. Quite natural. Come on, let’s get you across to maternity.”

“I’ll help if you like,” I said.

“You can stay and clean up that mess on the floor,” Sister said. “Gerda. You help me bring her across.”

I went downstairs to get a bucket and mop from the scullery, but I’d only gone halfway along the downstairs hall when something struck me. Sister hadn’t locked her door behind her. And she’d be safely over in the maternity ward for a while yet. It was a chance I couldn’t resist. I tiptoed back along the hall to Sister’s room and turned the door handle. The door swung open and I stepped inside, closing it quickly behind me. In the candlelight there was nothing outstanding about the room. Exactly what I would have expected from a nun’s quarters, in fact. Simple in the extreme. Narrow bed, chest, and wardrobe. No sign of decoration on the walls, only the obligatory crucifix. There was a desk in the corner. I went to that and opened the drawers. Nothing incriminating that I could see.

I opened the top drawer of her chest, feeling most uncomfortable at this prying, and saw only neatly folded black lisle stockings and undergarments. The other drawers contained nothing of interest. However, in the drawer of her bedside table I found a surprise. Among the rosaries, prayer book, and holy cards was a pretty little enamel brooch-watch and some good pieces of jewelry. Surely nuns weren’t allowed to wear jewelry? Where did she acquire it, and did she ever wear it under her habit?

Then I saw something that made me pause. A pretty little statue of Our Lady, hand carved in wood. I knew with absolute certainty that it was Maureen’s statue. Katy had said she found it in a wastebasket, so sister must have taken it from Katy’s things, unless Katy had handed it over. Why was Sister keeping it? Just because she liked the look of it? Or because she didn’t want anyone else to see it? I closed the drawer quietly and went over to the wardrobe. An ordinary, coarsely woven habit hung there, plus a dressing gown. Again nothing unusual. Then on the top shelf I noticed an attaché case. I brought it down carefully, put it on the bed, and opened it. It was full of papers. They seemed to be letters. I held the first one up to the candlelight and read.

Again my wife and I wish to express our deepest thanks for our lovely baby girl. She is all we ever dreamed of and more. As agreed I am enclosing a check for a thousand dollars …

I put the letter down. Elaine had mentioned generous donations, but I had thought in terms of one hundred dollars at the most. A thousand dollars was a fortune. The convent could run happily on it for years. They could afford to install electricity, proper heating, to repair the crumbling outside of the building. I went through other letters, all promising large sums and expressing satisfaction with the baby they had received. This was a veritable business, and a very prosperous one. At the bottom of the case I came to an oilskin pouch. I opened the clasp and gasped. It was full of money—a lot of money, possibly thousands of dollars. And I knew right away that the money donated to the convent was never seen by the other nuns. Sister Jerome was keeping it for herself, for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

I stood with the envelope in my hands, wondering what to do next. Should I report what I had seen to the police? Then I reasoned that she hadn’t committed a crime. Those babies had been legally obtained and the couples had paid up willingly. Her only crime was a moral one—exploiting desperate girls for her own ends. And cheating her sisters out of money they could certainly use. And it struck me that Maureen might have posed a threat greater than just wanting to reclaim her own child. Perhaps Maureen had figured out Sister’s neat little business and had threatened to go to Mother if she didn’t get her child back. And had possibly made a fatal mistake in doing so.

I had sensed that Sister was a ruthless woman, but it was only now that I appreciated the real extent of the danger I was in. I was safe as long as I behaved like an obedient Irish peasant girl who was about to deliver a red-haired baby. But if Sister had stumbled upon that letter to Sid and Gus by now, and had worked out that I was here undercover, spying on her, then my life wasn’t worth a fig. I was suddenly alert and afraid, imagining Sister standing on the other side of that door at this moment, observing everything I had done, and then quietly entering the room to silence me.…

I stuffed the envelope back into the attaché case, put the letters back on top of it, and returned it to the top shelf before I half tumbled out of the room, almost knocking over the candle in my haste. The downstairs hall was dark and silent. I remembered the bucket and mop, found them and cleaned up the floor as instructed. The other girls had either gone to sleep or were feigning it. As I mopped I could hear screams coming from the other wing. A new fear added itself to the others: I had always known that childbirth was an uncomfortable business. My own three brothers had been born at home and I remember my mother moaning and invoking the saints, but it hadn’t seemed too terrifying. But in this place Blanche had experienced complications that led to a dead baby and now Aggie was still screaming. Was this what I had to look forward to in two months’ time? My hand went to my belly and I felt the reassuring little flutter of a kick against my fingers.