“Yes, Sister. Sorry, Sister,” Ruth said breathlessly. “And thank you, Sister.”
The nun gave the barest of nods and stalked off.
Everyone else followed silently.
Feeling as though she had only just avoided an execution, Ruth joined them. She was too scared now to look around, but she followed the crowd. Ruth Craze was known for her good manners. Teachers and other parents always commented on her politeness. And she was nimble and quick, not usually clumsy. So what had happened?
“Don’t worry,” said a voice at her side. “They’re not all that bad.”
Ruth turned to see a girl not much older than herself with dark, curly hair and blue eyes smiling at her. This must be the whispering savior. Ruth wanted to hug her.
“Really?”
“Oh yes. That was Sister Winifred. Wild Winnie the Wicked Witch.” The girl laughed under her breath. “Or just Winnie for short. She’s batty, as you probably gathered, but not so bad when you get to know her. I’m Bridie, by the way.”
“I’m Ruth,” Ruth whispered back.
“I know.” Bridie giggled. “You told us.”
“So are there nice ones?”
“Nuns, you mean?”
Ruth nodded.
“Yes, of course. They’re not all fearsome. Come and I’ll show you where to go next.”
They turned a corner and continued after the other girls along a paved path toward the old sandstone buildings.
It’s a jail, Ruth thought angrily. The great stone wall surrounding the buildings and the garden was so high that it had to be. What did Rodney think he was doing?
“What happens now?”
“Breakfast,” Bridie said. “Then chores and then school.”
“Chores?”
“I take it you’re not a lady boarder?” Bridie looked Ruth over and grinned. “Sorry, but your uniform tells me that.”
Ruth looked down at herself and realized for the first time that her uniform, although quite clean, was secondhand. The cuffs of the blazer were worn and there were some old stains on the tunic; her shoes were worn too.
“You’re like me,” Bridie explained. “We have to do work for our keep—just cleaning floors, washing dishes, and stuff like that. Nothing too drastic.”
“Do we go to school too?” Ruth asked anxiously. She had a sudden vision of herself down on her knees polishing floors all day.
“School? Oh, yes.” Bridie looked uncomfortable. “Of course we do. Unfortunately.”
They were now walking along an unlit stone corridor with a very high ceiling. Every now and again there were big plaster statues set on wooden pillars. One was of a woman with her arms outstretched and a blue veil over her head. Another was of a man with long hair. He also had his arms stretched out and he was dressed in a red robe. The weird thing about him was that he had his heart on the outside of his body, even though he was standing up and looked as if he was meant to be alive. Then there was another man in a brown robe holding a staff and a little child in one arm. This one had a halo of flowers on his head.
“Who are these people meant to be?” Ruth asked her new friend, slowing down so she could have a better look.
Bridie laughed. “You’ve got a lot to learn, haven’t you? That one is the Sacred Heart. You must know him. That one is Our Lady of Fatima. That is Saint Anthony.” She grinned at Ruth’s puzzled expression. “You obviously didn’t grow up with the One True Faith?”
“Er … no,” Ruth said, “I guess I didn’t.”
“Don’t worry, there are a few others like you.” Bridie smiled. “It doesn’t take long. Just a few months—then you can be baptized and you won’t go to hell if you die.”
“Hell?”
“Eternal damnation for anyone not baptized into the One True Faith. Which means being chucked into a fire forever. So best to learn quickly and get it done.”
Ruth tried to imagine being tossed into a fire. Forever. “I think I was christened,” she said in a small voice, hoping it was true. She could distinctly remember Auntie Faye telling them that Paul should be christened, but couldn’t remember if he ever was. Neither of her parents was very interested in religion.
“Won’t work,” Bridie told her blithely. “It’s got to be done in the One True Church.” She pointed to another statue. “Over there is Saint Patrick.”
Ruth must have looked perplexed, because Bridie took her arm and laughed. “Don’t worry, they won’t talk back! He converted Ireland. Everyone says he walks across the fishpond at midnight on the night of March sixteenth every year.”
“Why March sixteenth?”
“It’s the night before his feast day.”
“Oh.”
What on earth is a feast day? Ruth wanted to ask. Do you kill a pig and dance around a fire or what? But she kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to seem too stupid. This new friend Bridie might get sick of her, and then where would she be?
The corridor ended at last and they emerged into a small enclosed courtyard. Ruth smelled food and immediately felt hungrier than ever. The rest of the girls were going through some big wooden doors into what must be the dining room.
“You can sit with me if you like,” Bridie whispered when they got inside, “but keep very quiet. Old Thunder Guts loves to pick on new kids.”
Ruth nodded grimly.
The room was huge and lined with wooden paneling that reached halfway up the walls. There were about a dozen tables, each set with twelve places. The older girls seemed to be up at one end and the younger ones down at the other. At the front of the room was a hugely fat, ruddy-faced nun standing on a rostrum glaring around sternly as the girls walked in silently and stood by their places. This must be the nun they call Thunder Guts, Ruth thought.
“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.”
All the girls joined the nun in moving their hand from their forehead down to their chest, and then up to each shoulder, ending with both hands joined. Then they all said a short prayer together. Feeling very self-conscious, Ruth moved her mouth, pretending that she was saying it too. When it was over and they had done the thing with their hands again, the nun looked around very slowly from left to right.
“Good morning and God bless you, girls,” she said in a rather gruff way, as though she meant exactly the opposite.
“Good morning, Sister, and God bless you,” a hundred voices replied in unison.
“You may sit.”
“Thank you, Sister,” the girls all called back.
There was the sound of a hundred chairs being pulled out and then absolute silence except for the noise about a dozen older girls made as they came out of a side room and began to serve big dishes from trays onto each table. A dish of sausages came first and then a plate of bread and butter. The dish was passed to Ruth first and in spite of the fact that she was starving, she made the mistake of being polite and serving herself only one when she could have eaten five. She watched in dismay as the dish was passed around and everyone else served themselves two or three sausages until it reached the last girl, who took what was left. Ruth didn’t make the same mistake with the jug of milk. When that was passed to her, she filled her glass up till it was almost brimming over, and when the bread came around, she took three pieces and put them on her side plate. She could feel the other girls at her table looking, but she was too afraid of her own hunger to care. Everyone was served now and yet still no one was eating! Ruth’s stomach rumbled loudly.
“Is everyone served?” the nun finally called out.
“Yes, Sister!” the girls chorused.
“You may begin.”
Everyone picked up their knife and fork and began to eat. Still no one spoke.
“We will be reading from the Lives of the Saints this morning,” the nun declared in a loud, ponderous voice as she opened up a big leather-bound book. “The Feast of the Assumption is approaching, so we’d all do well to consider the life of Saint Teresa of Ávila.”
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br /> At Ruth’s table some of the girls rolled their eyes at each other. The girl at the end of the table with her back to the nun stuck her finger in her mouth as if she were gagging.
The nun’s voice was dull and droning. No one seemed to be paying her much attention even though they were quiet. A couple of times she lost her place, and her voice became increasingly monotonous, almost as though she were talking in her sleep.
The girls wriggled about, giggled, and whispered little comments while they ate, but always with half an eye on Thunder Guts to see just how much they could get away with.
Once Ruth had partially satisfied her hunger by filling up on bread and milk she began to listen to the nun. The life of Saint Teresa of Ávila was actually quite interesting. Even a little inspiring. She had been a young girl with a mind of her own who refused to comply with the beliefs of her family and friends.
Eventually, the droning voice stopped. Ruth looked up to see that all the girls around the dining hall were staring at the nun, as if waiting for something to happen.
Very slowly the nun’s heavy hand reached out for the little brass bell in front of her. One tiny tinkle and the room burst into life: a loud, gushing sound of female voices. All the pent-up talk and laughter came rushing out.
“Math exam today and I know nothing!”
“Jen Farrelly told her to pull her head in!”
“I’ll rub her nose in it!”
Leftovers were brought around by the serving girls, but not enough. The three extra sausages that were brought to their table were snagged before Ruth could even indicate that she’d like one.
“So did your parents dump you?” a smiling redheaded girl opposite Ruth asked casually. “Or are they dead?”
“Ah, well …” Ruth tried to think. What would she tell people about why she was there? She should have worked it out before. Luckily, she was let off the hook by the girl down at the other end.
“Don’t be so nosy, Tessa!” she exclaimed. “She might not know, and if she does, she’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“She’s too young to have done anything,” another girl observed.
The first girl grinned and pointedly looked Ruth up and down. “Not so sure about that!”
They all laughed, but not unkindly.
“What would I have to have done to get here?” Ruth asked shyly. She still felt self-conscious, but these girls seemed nice enough, and curiosity had gotten the better of her. The question made them all laugh again.
“Committed some crime,” Bridie told Ruth in a quiet voice. “Instead of going to jail, the miscreants often get sent here.”
Ruth thought back to Marcia’s taunt earlier, Are you a miscreant? and filed it away in her brain. She liked learning new words.
“Remember Sadie Meehan?” The redheaded girl opposite Ruth looked around, and everyone else nodded and laughed.
“She stole fifty quid and she was only twelve!”
“What’s a quid?” Ruth asked, wanting to join in their amusement.
Everyone at the table fell silent. The girl opposite eyed Ruth curiously.
“Are you having us on?”
“No. I’ve never heard the word quid before, that’s all.”
“So where were you before?” the redheaded girl asked.
Ruth decided the truth would do as well as anything else. “I was with my family.”
“And you don’t know what a quid is?” the girl said blankly.
“No.”
“A quid. A pound. You know … money,” the girl down at the other end of the table explained kindly.
“What happened to Sadie Meehan?” Ruth asked, desperate to change the subject.
The other girls smiled.
“Remember when she told Winnie where to go?” Their eyes lit up with the memory. “She didn’t last long after that. They sent her to a reform school.”
“So this isn’t”—Ruth turned to Bridie and tried to keep her voice down—“a reform school?”
“Not exactly.” Bridie looked around the table. “Most of us are here because our families can’t have us or don’t want us. See over there?” She pointed to three tables of older girls who were slightly separated from the rest. “That lot have been in trouble with the police, so instead of jail, the nuns take them in.”
“What did they do?” Ruth was intrigued. In trouble with the police! But they hardly looked much older than her!
“All different things.” Bridie laughed at her shocked expression. “Stealing, mainly, and running away.”
Ruth was dumbfounded. But they looked so ordinary! Most of them had bright faces and ribbons in their hair and they were dressed in uniforms like everyone else.
“Some of them are tough,” Bridie warned. “I’d stay out of their way if I were you.”
“What about Marcia?” Ruth asked. “Is she one of them?”
This made the other girls at the table burst out into fresh snorts of laughter.
“She’s over there.” Bridie pointed to one of the tables just under the rostrum. “Those girls are lady boarders, which means they’re being paid for by their parents. They aren’t orphans or wards of the state. They don’t have to do any work, and they get better food than the rest of us. They’re snobs, and Marcia is the worst of them. Her father is really rich. He owns hotels and racehorses and he gives lots of money to the convent.”
“Which means she sometimes gets away with murder?”
“Not with Winnie, though,” said the girl at the end of the table, and the others nodded their heads.
“That’s why we all secretly like Winnie,” Bridie said, “even though she’s nuts. She treats everyone the same.”
their teeth and do their chores. Bridie was given the job of showing Ruth how to sweep the back stairs leading down to the music rooms. The stairs were outside and the wind was biting. Ruth’s fingers were raw with the cold and almost numb as she tried to sweep the dust and grime away with a worn, wiry brush. Older girls were constantly running up and down on their way to music lessons, and Ruth had to stand aside to make way for them. Hardly any of them paid her the slightest attention. Often as not they stepped in her pile of dirt and she had to start again. She became anxious about finishing the task. If it wasn’t the older girls, it was the wind blowing her neat little piles away. Bridie had shown her the front office where she must go to be assigned a class, but Ruth had already lost her bearings. How was she going to get back there? The big sandstone buildings all seemed the same. There were long, drafty corridors with enormous wooden doors and staircases leading … where? She dreaded finding herself in some place where she shouldn’t be, face-to-face with the likes of Sister Winifred again. And what about the red door? Ruth knew she should find it as soon as possible but … right at this moment she felt too nervous to ask anyone.
Bridie had told her that a bell would ring when it was time to stop chores and get ready for class, but bells were constantly ringing and Ruth had no way of telling which one was which.
But just as her worry was turning into panic, Bridie, gasping for breath, ran back to collect her.
“I thought you might have trouble finding your way back!” she declared gaily, her friendly face alive with excitement. “But guess what? I’ve spoken to Winnie and she has agreed to have you in her class!”
Ruth was literally struck dumb, first with shock and then with terror.
“It’s with me!” Bridie explained, wanting Ruth to be pleased too. “I’m in Winnie’s class. She’s not so bad when you get to know her. We’ll be in class together!”
“But Bridie,” Ruth said carefully, “she doesn’t like me one little bit.”
“Yes, she does!” Bridie laughed. “Don’t worry about her. It’ll be good.”
Ruth had to smile. Bridie’s easy warmth was infectious. “You actually went up and spoke to her?” Ruth was overwhelmed. Imagine having the audacity to speak to such a fearsome creature!
Bridie grabbed Ruth’s broom and dustpan. “
Come on! Don’t worry about this too much. Only the music kids come here most days, so you won’t be checked by the sisters.” She shoved the broom into a corner cupboard and reached into her pocket and pulled out a small leather-bound book. “Winnie gave me this to give to you.”
“What is it?” Ruth took the book and stared at the gold cross on the front and then at the gilt-edged pages. The book wasn’t new. There were worn patches on the cover, and the red page marker was a little grubby. Just inside the front cover was a list of five girls’ names, none of which rang any bells for Ruth.
“Your missal,” her new friend explained. “Everyone has to have one. You’ll be in big trouble if you lose it. You must bring it to Mass with you every morning, and if you get some spare time in class, then you should read it.”
“Really?” Ruth flicked through the pages. It seemed to be filled with short stories and prayers and black-and-white pictures, with an occasional one in lurid color. Ruth put the book in the pocket of her blazer and smiled at Bridie. She had so many questions, she didn’t know where to start.
“So what class are we in?” Ruth asked.
“Seventh grade,” Bridie replied. “Winnie said you could start there even though you’re a little young.”
Ruth was only in sixth grade. What if she couldn’t keep up with the work? But somehow Bridie made her put all her apprehension aside, at least for the time being. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Ruth said sincerely. “I really don’t.”
“What are friends for?” Bridie said simply, putting her arm through Ruth’s. “Better hurry now, or we’ll be late.”
The classroom was big and gloomy with about fifty wooden desks in rows. The ceiling was high and the windows were tall and had heavy wooden frames. Two lights hung down from the ceiling, but there was no heating. When Ruth and Bridie came in, quite a few girls were already sitting around in groups talking and laughing. Some of them stopped to look at Ruth curiously, but most were friendly.
“Heard you had a run-in with the witch this morning,” someone joked. “Don’t fret too much. You’ll get used to her!”
When You Wish upon a Rat Page 12
