The Magdalen Girls Page 9

  Nora crawled into bed. It was crammed into the narrow V where the two walls met to form the base of the convent’s spired roof. In a way, Nora’s bed would be cozy, Teagan thought, almost like having a little cave to crawl in with no one on either side to bother you.

  Nora didn’t seem to think so. She huffed and pounded her pillow and then propped it behind her back as if she was going to sit up all night. She looked as if she would murder anyone who came near.

  The other Magdalens looked as careworn and tired as they had the previous evening. They don’t have the energy to fight. Everyone is too broken.

  Someone whispered far down the room.

  Lea sat up in her bed and arched her swan-like neck toward Teagan. “Did you hear that? Talking in bed can get you into trouble. I don’t like to make trouble.”

  “It’s horrible not being able to talk,” Teagan whispered back.

  “You get used to it.” She pulled her long arms from underneath the sheet and folded them across her stomach.

  “Used to it, yes, but for how long?”

  Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating Lea’s face. She looked like a corpse in the white glare. Thunder bounced against the granite walls.

  “I don’t worry about it,” Lea said after the noise died. “Where would I go anyway? I have no home.”

  Nora crawled toward them and rested her head at the foot of her bed. She was close enough she could overhear what they were saying.

  “You’re a real hick, aren’t you, a real bogger,” Nora said. She screwed up her mouth into an ugly smile.

  Lea looked at Nora with wide eyes. “Nothing you can say will hurt me. I’ve already had enough trouble to last a lifetime. Besides, Jesus is my friend.”

  Another flash of lightning lit the garret. Nora smirked. “Oh brother, not only a bogger, but bonkers, too.”

  “Hey, shut your holes,” a girl on the other side of the room said in a harsh whisper. “Do I have to get Sister?”

  “See what I mean?” Lea settled back in bed and pulled the sheet up to her neck.

  “Well, I guess she’s done for the night,” Nora said. “Not sure I’m going to get along with her . . . but then, I’m not sure about anybody here.”

  Teagan turned and looked out the window. The storm was approaching fast; black clouds hovered over the city. Soon, large drops of rain pelted the window and roof. The arched ceiling magnified the sound, like water plunking into a wooden basin. She wasn’t sure what to say to Nora; after all, she knew this girl could be trouble. On the other hand, she seemed to be the only Magdalen who wasn’t yet broken.

  Teagan decided to take a chance. “I think we should make an effort to get along.”

  “Why?” Nora sounded suspicious.

  “Because I’m smart and you’ve got spunk.”

  “Are you saying I’m dumb?”

  Teagan smiled, but she knew Nora couldn’t see her in the deepening gloom. “No, but if I had to choose a cell mate in gaol, you’d be the one. Between the two of us, we might be able to break out of here.” She could barely make out the lump the new penitent formed in bed.

  Nora fought again with her pillow before whispering, “I think we’re going to get along fine.”

  Lightning stabbed the sky not far from the convent. The flash filled the garret with a harsh light that vanished before a crackling roll of thunder.

  Teagan had settled into bed when the door opened. Sister Mary-Elizabeth stood in the hall, her form silhouetted by the lamp overhead. She was dressed in nightclothes. Her face was deep in shadow, but the top of her head and the tight band of cloth that held back her short hair were visible. The nun looked into the room for a few moments and then closed the door. The shaft of light from the hall disappeared. The room grew even darker as the storm thrashed outside.

  * * *

  Someone walked past her bed. Teagan wasn’t sure of the hour. She shook off her drowsiness in time to see a pair of legs disappear through the window. It had to be one of the Magdalens. Who else could it be? She yawned and stared into the darkness. A cool breeze, following the storm, blew across her. The air felt good after the laundry’s heat.

  The latched screen had been opened and its wooden frame pushed out. Teagan peered out the window but couldn’t see the girl who had escaped. Escaped! It had to be Nora. Only she would be crazy enough to try a stunt like this on her first night in the convent. She looked at Nora’s bed. It was empty, although the pillow had been covered with the sheet to clumsily disguise her absence.

  Her heart raced, wondering what had happened. What if Nora had escaped? Worse yet, what if she had fallen from the roof? Dread tugged at her. She didn’t want to think about losing the one friend who might aid her escape. There was only one way to find out.

  She pushed the screen open, crawled out, and found herself on the roof of the story below. From her vantage point, Teagan knew she was kneeling over the old library where Lea worked on her Book of Kells. The roof sloped down at a low angle, not enough that one would slip and fall, but precarious enough after the rain. She pressed her hands against the wet slate and forced her heels into the cracks that divided the tiles. At the end of the roof, to the south, she spotted a girl clutching the top of a cornice. Towering above her, a Latin cross was situated at the peak of the garret’s roof. Teagan eased her way toward the figure in the white nightgown.

  “Nora? Nora!” She called the name as loudly as she dared.

  The girl turned.

  “Are you crazy?” Nora asked and then laughed. “You could fall to your death from up here.”

  Teagan sat behind Nora. Her gown had gathered the damp from the rain. “Listen to the pot calling the kettle black. What are you doing out here?”

  “Come closer.”

  “No. I don’t want to get close to the edge. I don’t like heights.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you then,” Nora said and pointed down. “It’s a good ten yards to the ground. You know the bank of windows and the trench outside the laundry?”

  Teagan nodded.

  “From here, it’s nothing but air to the bottom of that trench.” Nora shook her head. “There’s no way down unless you have a rope, or if you wanted to kill yourself.”

  She grabbed Nora’s shoulders. “Don’t say that. Remember, we formed a team. We need to be strong for each other.”

  “I suppose we should look over there.” She pointed to the north side of the convent. “But it’s too dangerous to slide across these wet tiles tonight.”

  Teagan shivered. “And too cold. Let’s go back.”

  Nora clucked like a chicken.

  “I’m not a coward,” Teagan said, and inched backward. “And I’m not daft.”

  Nora let go of the cornice and climbed back toward the window. She stopped about halfway and said, “Look at the stars.”

  Teagan tilted her head back. Whitish-gray clouds, shredded by a northwest wind, scudded overhead. In the breaks between them, the summer stars wheeled in a clear, black sky. She had never seen them so bright. “They’re beautiful. I feel like I could reach out and touch them.”

  “They feel so close. That’s a sign of good luck,” Nora said. “We’ll take whatever we can get.”

  Teagan sat for a moment, gazing out over the city. To the south, the lights fanned out in bright dots until they vanished near the city’s foothills. To the north, they brightened to a milky haze over Dublin center. The sight was so beautiful she momentarily forgot her circumstances. She grabbed Nora’s hands. “Promise me, swear to God, that we’ll remain friends and help each other get out of here.”

  Nora squeezed back. “After what happened today, I’m not sure I believe in God, but I’ll accept your oath—swear to that old man in the sky.” She sighed. “I’d like to spend the night on the roof instead of going inside. I’d like to be here in the morning when the sun comes up, rather than in that cramped bed.”

  “Me, too, but we can’t spend the night out here. We’ll catch our deaths.”
/>
  “Don’t be a stick in the mud.”

  Teagan let go of Nora. “If you somehow escape before I do, or vice versa, we must promise each other that we’ll return for the one left behind. It’s only fair.”

  Nora nodded. “But let’s make a break for it as soon as we can. You see what’s happened to the others. Too much time here and you’re dead.”

  The wind struck her. She wrapped her arms around her body. “Yes, but we need a plan. We can’t go about this blindly. Every detail has to be worked out—so nothing will go wrong.” She pictured her mother, crying in the living room, her father drunk and threatening. Nora was right in one respect. She needed to get out of the convent as fast as she could, not only for her sake but for her mother’s. “We’ll work on it.”

  Nora extended her hand.

  Teagan shook it. “Done. Now, let’s get to bed.”

  “I suppose you’re right. My nightgown is wet. Don’t want to catch my death, as you would say.” Nora chuckled. She started up, but stopped short of the window, her face frozen in fear. A figure stood staring out at them. “Oh shit,” Nora said. “I nearly wet me gown.”

  Lea studied them, her ghostly presence filling the frame. She put a finger to her lips and pushed open the screen.

  Teagan followed Nora inside, glad to be off the roof.

  They sat on her bed. Lea bent down in front of them, her face filled with wonder. “What were you doing out there?” she asked softly.

  “Just catching the air,” Teagan said, trying to downplay their escapade. “What are you doing up?”

  “I wake up sometimes. Someone taps me on my shoulder.”

  “Oh great,” Nora said.

  Teagan clutched her pillow. “The nuns said you don’t talk—only pray.”

  “I talk to people I like,” Lea said.

  “Aren’t we lucky,” Nora whispered to Teagan.

  “You’re not going to report us, are you?” Teagan asked.

  “No.” Lea stood and walked to the window. She pointed to the southwest, near the cornice where Nora had sat. “Sometimes at night I stare at the grass for hours. Something’s out there.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Teagan asked Nora.

  Nora leaned toward her. “Damned if I know. There’s not much to see beyond the grounds. A couple of street lamps down the road. This convent’s secluded and surrounded by a high wall.” She got up. “I’ve had enough of the spook story. I’m going to sleep and get warm.”

  “Me, too,” Teagan said.

  Nora went back to her bed.

  Lea continued to stare out the window, acting as if she were the only one in the room. “Something is there. Something’s out there. You’ll see.”

  She wasn’t sure to whom Lea was talking. Perhaps the words were just for her, echoing in her head for her own amusement. She pulled up the sheet and wished she had a blanket to break the chill. The sight of Lea staring out the window was enough to send more shivers down her spine.

  CHAPTER 6

  After several months, the monotonous routine had drained Teagan. She found it hard to concentrate; energy slipped from her body. Prayers, breakfast, work, dinner, more work, tea, prayers, bed. Day after day. Week after week. Sunday morning Mass with a priest she didn’t know. The routine never varied. Nothing changed except the piles of laundry. The washing, the drying, the ironing. Teagan and Nora had tried to get out on the roof a couple of times, but either they were too tired or one of the Magdalens was awake.

  Nora seemed to be handling the convent life better than anyone. Most of the time, she smiled and complimented Sister Ruth—as if that would get her anywhere. Teagan wondered whether Nora was being nice because she was planning an escape. Usually, the only chance they had to talk was after the lights had been turned out. Nora admitted that her goal of making a break by the August full moon had failed.

  “I’m trying to keep myself sane by being cheerful,” Nora whispered to her. “You should try it. Maybe you wouldn’t be so depressed.”

  “It’s hard, but I keep dreaming of the day I’ll get out of here,” Teagan said. She often thought about Cullen and the small luxuries she enjoyed at home.

  “I want out of this feckin’ dump,” Nora said. “That’s the plan for now.”

  Summer faded and shifted into autumn, heralded by a series of damp, foggy days. The shadows cast on the laundry’s floor lengthened as the sun trekked southward. Soon, they might disappear altogether in the depths of winter.

  Sister Ruth had told Teagan she would move from sorting to lace-mending duties when the Mother Superior gave the command. Sarah had moved to the washbasins, so only she and Nora were at the bins now. No new girls had arrived at the convent, and the pregnant one she had seen on her first day had disappeared. The veteran Magdalens didn’t seem to care what had happened to the girl, as if such cases were commonplace.

  Teagan suggested she and Nora develop a sign language so they could avoid Sister Ruth’s wrath. Most of the time, apparently sedated by her generous noon meal and several swigs from the clandestine wine bottle, the nun dozed peacefully in her chair. But there was always the chance she might nap with one eye open.

  Teagan and Nora formulated their new mode of communication while standing at the bins.

  “One finger for ‘no,’” Teagan whispered. “Two for ‘yes.’”

  Nora moved her hand in a wavy motion from left to right to indicate “maybe.” A flat, horizontal movement meant “stop.” Then came every word they could think of that might be needed for an escape, including: car, rope, stairs, window, run, hide, Guards. Nora raised the two-finger salute on her right hand when the word “parents” came up. “That’s the signal that we took it up our arse,” she said.

  Once, Sister Ruth caught them practicing their signs. She came within a few feet, squinted, and said, “What’s gotten into you two? Saint Vitus’s dance?” The nun looked at them suspiciously.

  Teagan didn’t dare smile, but Nora did. They said nothing while Sister Ruth, still keeping an eye on them, returned to her chair.

  One drizzly day in late September, Teagan and Nora were sorting when Sister Mary-Elizabeth lumbered through the door. Nora saw the Sister first and got Teagan’s attention by pointing to her.

  The nun scowled at Sister Ruth, who was dozing in her chair, her head bobbling on her neck. Her hands had slipped off the magazine she was reading. The nun jiggled Sister Ruth’s shoulders and the overseer snapped awake. Teagan watched the two nuns confer, when she could.

  Sister Ruth appeared behind her. “The Mother Superior wants to see you. You have a guest.”

  “Me?” She was surprised because she had never seen anyone visit the Magdalens.

  “Would I come to get you otherwise?” Sister Ruth shook her head as if she was talking to an idiot.

  Nora shot Teagan a look.

  Sister Ruth led her to the other nun, who stood blocking the doorway.

  “It’s Father Matthew—from your parish,” Sister Mary-Elizabeth said.

  Teagan stopped. Her gut clenched as if she had been punched in the stomach. “I don’t want to see him. I can’t see him.”

  “Come now,” the nun said, and offered her hand as they left the laundry. “You don’t have a choice, in these circumstances. You can’t refuse a member of the clergy.”

  “You’re wrong.” She stood firm at the bottom of the stairs.

  Sister Mary-Elizabeth smiled in that soft way that reminded Teagan of her mother when she was being kind. “Sister Anne says Father Matthew has a letter from your parents.”

  Another punch, equally hard, hit her. The Mother Superior wouldn’t lie about something as important as a letter. She had to see what it was about, despite her loathing of the old priest. If he hadn’t started her troubles, he had certainly contributed to them. She followed Sister Mary-Elizabeth up the two flights of stairs to the old library, where Lea sat, bent over her work.

  The nun pointed to the lace table. “Sit down. I’ll tell Father Matth
ew you’re here.” She carried another chair to the table as Teagan took her seat.

  A few minutes later, the Mother Superior strode into the room displaying the confidence of a prizefighter. Father Matthew followed like a plump sheep.

  Sister Anne stopped in front of the lace table. The priest, looking as corpulent as Teagan remembered, stood behind the chair. He glanced sideways, watching Lea as she worked—anything to avoid looking directly at her. Most involved with her subjugation wanted to keep their distance. Even the Mother Superior had limited her contact over the two months since Teagan had arrived, as if she was purposely avoiding her. She rarely looked her way and never spoke, except for an occasional admonishment about posture or dress. This time, however, Sister Anne was forced to speak.

  “I’m sure you remember Father Matthew.”

  How could I forget? Even the thought of having to talk to the priest repulsed her, catapulting her disposition into a steely resolve. She nodded.

  “He has consented to speak with you, giving ten minutes of his valuable time.”

  Teagan said nothing and stared at the priest.

  “It doesn’t surprise me that you are ungrateful,” Sister Anne said. “You’ve learned very little while you’ve been here—an indication that we have much more to accomplish.” She turned to the priest. “I’m sorry, Father, for her recalcitrant behavior. I pray for her every day.” She pointed to the table where Lea sat. “And don’t worry about her. You can say anything in front of Lea and be assured of complete confidence. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

  Sister Anne left the room.

  Teagan continued to stare. He wouldn’t get the best of her, not now, not ever.

  Father Matthew removed his damp raincoat and placed it over the back of the chair. He squeezed his heavy frame into the seat and clamped his arms firmly on the rests. When he looked at her, his eyes seemed as colorless as the sky outside.

  She shivered. Perhaps he was here to tell her about a tragedy; maybe something awful had happened to her mother or father. She clasped her hands and waited for him to speak.

  Father Matthew’s lips trembled, as if he was considering what to say. “I don’t have much time. I’m here at the request of your mother.”