Page 122 of Hidden Daughters

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Alone at last, Lottie opened the window and looked out at the dark night. The tide must be in, she thought, because the sound of the waves crashing on the shore was loud, albeit soothing. The hum of the city traffic in the distance brought a little reality to the scene.

Turning back to the room, she picked up the two glasses and stowed the bottle under her arm. She looked around the space that was hers for the night. She missed Boyd. She should ring him. He probably wouldn’t answer. And she would not be able to sleep with that hanging over her. No, he’d be back in Galway tomorrow. They could have a proper talk then, face to face. Iron out their differences. Everything would be fine. She hoped.

The room smelled of the two men who had left. Stale cigars and body odour. They could both do with a shower, she thought. Then there was the fusty wine perfume from the glasses. It was so strong she could almost taste it. She emptied what was left and put the bottle in the bin, then ran her finger over the glass that contained the small drop Kirby had poured for her. She tasted it. No, God no. It was vile.

After pouring the remains of the wine down the sink, she had a long, cool shower, brushed her teeth and got into bed.

Her body had chilled, but her mind was on fire.

Even the sound of the waves breezing through the open window could not lull her to sleep.

THE PAST

Gabriel had no idea how long she’d been in the convent, but one Christmas and one Easter had passed. No one from her family had visited her in all that time. She’d been abandoned. This felt even worse than when her mother had died. At least then she had family around her. She had a purpose. She’d cared for her father, brothers and the new baby. But in this horrible place, she was nobody. Nobody’s child, they called her. Well, she was somebody’s daughter once, but it seemed that now they were right.

There was still no sign of the education she was supposed to get. She needed to learn more reading and writing. She wanted to. But she never once saw a classroom. She depended on the others to sneak books to her and help her with big words. But that wasn’t an education. She supposed the real education she’d been getting was one in cruelty. It hardened her heart and destroyed her soul. And she was only a little girl.

One day, she slid into the big machine to scrape the sheet off the sides of the drum. Her hands were torn and the calluses started to bleed. She could feel tears bubble, but she had a job to do.

‘Will you hurry up, or I’ll switch the machine on with you in there,’ a nun shouted.

The words echoed deep inside her and she hurried to get the sheet unstuck. No way did she want to be inside if they closed the door and boiling water spurted in. Climbing out, she scratched her knee on the rough bit of steel where the door shut, and she hesitated, terrified the blood would get on the sheet. The old nun standing in front of her was new. Gabriel hadn’t seen her before.

‘Well, if it isn’t the midget,’ the nun roared. ‘Heard all about you. You are like a weasel burrowing in where no one else can fit. Do you know why that is?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. Gabriel didn’t have one anyhow, because she had no idea what the nun meant. ‘It’s because you are a sneaky bitch.’

Gabriel stood with the sheet draped across her arm and her hands and knee bleeding. Some internal alarm was sending signals to her brain to be careful. This nun was unlike the others. She was ancient, big and plump. Most were skinny and scrawny, like the girls themselves. But this nun was well fed, and she had a nasty twist to her mouth, her lips curved downwards as if she had never learned to smile. Her hair was wild and bushy, bursting out of the veil, and her eyes… they were the darkest eyes Gabriel had ever seen. She had never encountered anyone with such piercing blackness pulsing from their soul out through their eyes. She felt as if she was staring evil in the face.

‘And what do we do with sneaks?’ the nun bellowed.

‘I… I don’t know.’ Gabriel ignored the alarm bells and somehow got the words out.

‘You don’t know?’ The nun shook her head. ‘You are an evil child.’

It was then that Gabriel realised all work had stopped. The slow hum of the machines was like a radio switched on low inthe background. The girls were standing frozen in the act of ironing, lifting baskets, folding. A tableau of inactivity. Of fear. She spied the young novice at the door. She had befriended Gabriel, brought her books to read, helped her with her writing. Was she going to run for help? Or was she just ready to run?

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean,’ Gabriel said. Bravery overcame fear for an instant. A fatal instant, as it turned out.

Without warning, the nun hit out with her crucifix, cutting into Gabriel’s cheek, then wrenched her arm with the sheet and tugged the cotton from her. She twisted it around Gabriel’s body, and even as she struggled, she knew she could not win over the woman’s size and strength. She was like a mummy, with only her face visible. She felt she was about to die.

‘No!’ she cried.

‘Come here, someone help me,’ the nun roared.

No one moved.

Then someone else came into the room. Footsteps stomping on the concrete-slabbed floor. A man’s footsteps.

The mechanical hum of the machines seemed louder. Breath was held in the air. A stagnant silent fear permeated the steamy room.

The nun’s eyes blazed as she acknowledged the man who had entered.

She felt weak and strong simultaneously and prayed to her mother to save her. She didn’t believe in God any more, but she believed her mother was waiting for her on some higher plane. But she’d deserted her too. Deserted her own daughter.

‘No, stop. I don’t want to go in there.’

Ignoring her cries, the man lifted her and threw her bodily into the large drum. He slammed the door shut. Gabriel’s handsand legs were bound tight by the sheet. As she struggled to free herself, she knew it was fruitless.

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