“Happens to the best of us!” someone else called out.
A rush of gratitude for their friendliness washed through Ruth and she smiled. She was getting used to things; maybe this was going to be the life for her after all.
Bridie ushered Ruth down to the back of the classroom and opened up one of the old-fashioned desks, showing her the empty space for her books.
“Winnie said she’d sort you out with books at the end of the day,” Bridie told her. “Until then you can share with me.”
“Okay, thanks,” Ruth mumbled, watching in amazement as a girl went around filling up the little wells in the tops of the desks from a big bottle of black ink. She noticed that some of the girls were holding old-fashioned fountain pens, which they filled up with ink as they chattered. The only place she’d seen them before was in a movie!
“What year is it?” Ruth asked Bridie bluntly.
A couple of girls at a nearby desk heard the question, and after glancing at each other they turned to look at Ruth curiously.
“You don’t know what year it is?” Bridie was obviously puzzled too.
Ruth shook her head.
“It’s 1951.” Bridie smiled, but her eyes were skeptical. “What year did you think it was?”
But Ruth could only shrug. She sat down and opened the exercise book that Bridie gave her, trying not to appear shocked. She’d had the feeling something was strange but … this was truly weird. She wondered if Rodney had meant to do it or if he’d messed things up again. Maybe he’d forgotten to do something really important. Going back in time hadn’t been mentioned, as far as she could remember. 1951! That meant before television came to Australia. Before computers and freeways and cell phones and proper supermarkets. How was she going to cope without all of them?
There was a clacking sound of beads rattling. All the girls immediately stiffened and went quiet as the sound became louder. Suddenly, the black form of Sister Winifred appeared in the doorway. Everyone stood to attention. You could hear a pin drop. Ruth now knew exactly what that phrase meant! She tried to make herself invisible by hiding behind the girl in front of her. The last thing in the world she wanted was another run-in with Sister Winifred!
“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.” Sister Winifred blessed herself, and the girls followed suit. Up to the forehead with the right hand and then to the lower chest, then to the left shoulder and then to the right. Bridie had shown Ruth how to do it and she had almost gotten the hang of it. Sister Winifred was standing on a little platform in front of them, her body turned to the big cross on the side wall, eyes closed and hands joined in silent prayer. The girls did exactly the same. Ruth looked around furtively as she tried to copy what everyone else was doing.
Suddenly, the nun called out, “O Jesus, through the most pure heart of Mary we offer You all our prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day …” The prayer went on for some time and Ruth moved her mouth around pretending that she too was praying, all the while thinking it was crazy. She didn’t believe for a minute that anyone was listening, especially not the poor man bleeding up there on that cross. But she was desperate not to call attention to herself in any way.
At the end the girls all muttered Amen and then they blessed themselves again. Sister Winifred opened her eyes and looked around. She stared down the row of girls and caught Ruth’s eye for a brief moment. Oh no! She’d seen her.
“Good morning, girls, and God bless you.”
“Good morning, Sister!” the girls chorused back. “God bless you, Sister!”
“Please welcome our new girl, Ruth.”
There was a brief burst of clapping from the whole class, and some of the girls turned to smile at Ruth.
Sister Winifred nodded formally and said, “Welcome, Ruth.”
“Thank you, Sister,” Ruth said immediately, and then waited, heart in her mouth, for the nun’s reaction. Had she done it right? Maybe she should have said something else, like God bless you.
But amazingly, and much to her relief, the nun was already turning to the pile of books on her desk.
“Be seated please, girls, and take out your notebooks.”
The morning with Sister Winifred went by very quickly. Ruth had never enjoyed school so much. First there was religion, which was quite interesting because she had never known anything about it before. The first half hour was Bible study, with some early church history thrown in. All the other girls had their own Bible, and Ruth felt self-conscious because she was the only girl without one, until Bridie pushed hers over to the middle so she could share.
After Bible study there was half an hour of preparation for confirmation. The whole class was going to be confirmed by the local bishop the following month, and there was an astonishing amount of protocol to learn. They were told at what pace to walk, when to lower their eyes, when to look up, even how to kiss the bishop’s ring!
Then, on the stroke of the bell, Sister Winifred stopped almost in mid-sentence and began to teach math. The same thing happened an hour later when she switched over to history. She was a good teacher, concise and clear and fast. She moved from one thing to the next without the usual messing around. Just a few questions to make sure the subject matter was understood and then it was on to the next bit. Up till now Ruth had found school too easy. Sure, it could be interesting, but it went too slowly for her. Here she had to concentrate to keep up, and she liked it.
To her immense delight, Ruth found that not only could she keep up with the seventh-grade work, but she also seemed to understand everything more quickly than anyone else. At one point she turned excitedly to Bridie, about to say how much she was enjoying it all, when she caught a glimpse of Bridie’s work. She was amazed to see that her new friend was way behind with everything. Her math page was indecipherable and her writing was messy, with ink splotches and letters all over the place. It was like the work of a first grader just learning to write. And she was very slow. Bridie only managed to copy half of what was on the board in the time Ruth took to copy it all.
At one stage, Sister Winifred walked up and down the aisles to check their work. Ruth’s heart almost stopped beating when the nun took a look over her shoulder. She had to fight the inclination to put her arm over her work and hide it.
“So you’re not unintelligent,” the nun said eventually, “but what odd handwriting!”
Ruth looked at the work of a couple of other girls nearby. Their writing was all connected up and hard to understand.
“Still, it’s easy enough to read and that is the main thing,” the nun said. She smiled at Ruth, who colored with pleasure. She had pleased Sister Winifred. What a feat!
“If you finish early, don’t waste time,” Sister Winifred said with another aloof smile. “Take out your missal.”
“Yes, Sister!” Ruth said.
Unfortunately, Bridie’s work didn’t get the same reaction, but the nun was kind enough as she asked a few simple questions. Apart from her unintelligible scrawl, Bridie seemed bamboozled by much of what the nun had taught them that morning. After working out a time to meet after school for extra lessons, Sister Winifred moved on.
When the class was dismissed for the short morning break, Ruth put her arm briefly around her new friend’s shoulders.
“I can help you, Bridie,” she said. “After school we’ll go through it all.”
“I’m too slow.” Bridie sighed. “I can’t learn anything.”
“Everyone can learn,” Ruth said firmly, “you just have to do it at your own pace.”
“But I’m completely dumb.”
“You’re not dumb!” Ruth nudged her and smiled. “I know some dumb people, and they’re not like you.”
A sparkle appeared in Bridie’s eyes.
“Really?”
“I know it.”
Bridie sighed miserably, as though the weight of the world were on her shoulders. “Even if you could help me improve my writing, it would make such a difference,” s
he said passionately.
“So Winnie is always at you?” Ruth asked sympathetically.
“Not Winnie.” Bridie shook her head. “She’s always kind and tries to help me.”
“Who, then?”
Bridie looked at the big round clock striking half past eleven.
“Next class is spelling and dictation with Sister Gregory.” Bridie shivered. “I dread Tuesdays and Thursdays so much because of her. She’s the one we had at breakfast. Thunder Guts.”
“So in what way is she awful?”
“You’ll see.”
Gregory called loudly about fifteen minutes into class.
Bridie gave a low moan of despair.
“Sorry, Sister!” she said, eyes lowered. “I just … forgot.”
Ruth looked over to see Bridie quickly change her pen from her left hand to her right.
“Forgot?”
“Yes, Sister.”
“Well, then, we must help you remember! Out the front at once.”
“Oh please, Sister, I won’t do it again! I promise.”
“Out the front, please!”
Shamefaced, Bridie clambered up from her desk and walked slowly to the front of the class.
The rest of the girls watched as enormous, blotchy-faced Sister Gregory pulled a grubby old piece of canvas out of her desk drawer. She grabbed Bridie’s left hand, pushed it up behind her back, and tied it there by wrapping the canvas around her wrist and knotting the ends around the girl’s neck.
Ruth was completely dumbfounded. What was going on?
“Well, doesn’t Bridie look nice, girls!” the nun chortled, and turned Bridie around for the rest of the class to see. “Believe me, by the end of the year she won’t even know that she has a left hand!”
This brought a titter of polite laughter from the class, but Ruth was pleased to see that the vast majority weren’t impressed. Their sympathy was with Bridie, not the nun.
“Now, back to your seat, miss!” The nun gave Bridie a little jab in the back.
With downcast eyes, Bridie walked down the rows to her desk next to Ruth. She picked up her pen with her right hand and began to copy what was on the board. Ruth could see her lip trembling, but she waited until the nun’s back was turned before she said anything.
“Why did she do that?”
“I’m left-handed.”
“So?”
“All the other left hands learned to write with their right hand by the end of fourth grade,” Bridie explained miserably. “I just never could do it properly.”
“But why should you?”
Bridie stared back at Ruth blankly.
Ruth looked at Bridie’s work and saw that the writing she’d done with her left hand was quite legible.
“Everyone has to learn to write with their right hand,” Bridie said in a small voice. “It’s just the way it is.”
“No, it isn’t,” Ruth whispered angrily. “It’s quite acceptable to be left-handed where I come from.”
“Really?” Bridie asked skeptically. “Where do you come from?”
But Ruth didn’t get a chance to explain anything because the nun had turned around to face the class again and was glaring at them.
“Homework, girls!”
There were sighs of resignation as they all opened their books.
When the class ended, Ruth got up along with everyone else. Her growling stomach told her that it was lunchtime.
Bridie was the only one not getting up.
“Aren’t you coming to lunch?” Ruth whispered.
“I have to stay in lunchtimes,” Bridie said without looking up, “if I’m in the brace.”
“So when do you eat?”
“I don’t,” Bridie said grimly. “I hardly ever do when I have her.” She flicked her gaze up to Thunder Guts, who was waiting at the door watching the other girls file out.
“Hurry up, girls!” the nun said loudly. “I need to lock this room.”
“You need to fill your big greedy gut,” Bridie said under her breath, and Ruth suppressed a chuckle. It was good to see she wasn’t completely cowed.
“Is she going to lock you in?”
“Yes.” Bridie nodded gloomily.
Ruth gulped, wondering how she could help Bridie. But she was starving.
“You’re planning on staying too, are you, dear?” the nun called sarcastically. There was only Ruth and Bridie left in the room now. “Like to have your hand strapped up too, would you?”
“Er … no, Sister,” Ruth replied, looking down at Bridie uncertainly.
“Get a move on, girl!”
“Go on!” Bridie whispered. “Go have lunch quick or she’ll keep you in too.”
“I’ll try and save you something from lunch,” Ruth whispered under her breath.
“Thanks!”
Ruth was almost at the door when she stopped. She looked back at the nun, who was packing books into a satchel. Such a horrible face! The eyes behind the glasses were so small and muddy, and her skin was so mottled. The red blotches looked like some kind of weird map all over her face. And her bulky arms stretched the sleeves of her black habit as tightly as another skin.
Ruth glanced at Bridie, bent over her exercise book with her hand tied up behind her back. It just wasn’t right!
“Excuse me, but left-handed people are born that way.” The words tumbled out before she could think. “Sister,” she added as an afterthought, because it was not her intention to be insolent.
“I beg your pardon?” the nun spluttered.
Ruth stepped closer. “Left-handed people can’t help it,” she said.
The huge nun stared at her.
Ruth had the sudden, odd feeling that this was her mother talking. How many times had Ruth been embarrassed by her mum speaking up in front of everyone? Now she was doing the same! But Ruth didn’t feel brave like her mother. She felt terrified, but she continued. “If you let her write the way that comes naturally to her, then her writing would be so much better.”
“Is that so?” The nun took a step toward Ruth, and then another.
It took all of Ruth’s courage not to flinch and step back.
“So you know all about it, do you?” The woman was positively seething.
Ruth had a flash of inspiration. All morning she’d been hearing about God. She’d been praying to God and learning all about God’s plan for the world and for everyone in it. Please, God, this and Thank you, God, for that. Ruth hadn’t had any experience with God before. But if He was out there and if everything they said about Him was true, then why wouldn’t He want left-handed people to be … left-handed? Wouldn’t they be part of His plan too?
“Why would God make someone left-handed if He didn’t intend them to be left-handed?” Ruth blurted out.
“I’ll give you exactly what God intended!” Sister Gregory snarled, and smacked Ruth across the face. “How dare you question me!”
Ruth gasped and stepped back, holding her cheek; the nun stepped closer still and slapped her other cheek.
Ruth had been smacked only a couple of times in her life, and never like this. Sure, she’d been pushed around occasionally, stepped on and squashed a bit by her brothers over the years, but never actually hit. Not deliberately. Her face stung with the shock of it, and the pain. Tears came to her eyes. But she didn’t cry, nor did she retreat even one step.
“You insolent brat!” the nun hissed. “I’ve a good mind to give you a whipping.”
“Excuse me, Sister!” Bridie was standing.
“What do you want?” the nun roared.
“Ruth is new today, Sister,” Bridie pleaded breathlessly. “She doesn’t know—”
“Sit down!” the nun exploded, and turned to Ruth. “Never have I been treated to such willful, outrageous behavior from one so young! Never! How old are you?”
“Eleven,” Ruth said, deliberately not adding Sister.
“Sister!” the woman screamed. “Have you been taught nothing? What is your name?”
“Ruth … Sister.”
Sister Gregory stood there with both hands twitching.
She was going to hit her again. Ruth braced herself and tried not to flinch. But then she saw that the ugly old biddy was actually bewildered. No one had ever questioned her before and she was floundering a bit. The slap didn’t come; the nun suddenly turned her back on Ruth, opened a drawer, and began fishing around for something, huffing and puffing as she did so. A whip? Ruth swallowed. She was afraid again. She thought of Howard and the red marks all over his body. Now she would know what that was like.
But when the nun turned around she was only holding a couple of books. Her expression had changed into an unpleasant smirk.
“We’ll see what Reverend Mother has to say about you, miss!” she declared pompously, picking up her satchel. “Off you go. Wait outside her office. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Oh please, Sister!” Bridie was on her feet again. “Don’t send her to Reverend Mother!”
“Sit down, Bridie Fallan, and be quiet!” the nun roared. “Or you will be accompanying this brat yourself!” Looking at Ruth, she pointed one of her fat red fingers at the door. “Off you go!”
“But I don’t know where to go,” Ruth said.
“What did you say?”
“I don’t know where Reverend Mother’s office is, Sister. I’m new.”
“Then wait here,” the nun growled. She was beside herself now and looked like an enormous lobster, crusty and red-faced. “No lunch for either of you!”
She grabbed Ruth’s shoulder in a vise-like grip and pushed her into a seat in the front row. “Sit here and don’t move. Don’t speak or turn around. Just sit here and think about how you will explain yourself to Reverend Mother. I’m sure she will decide that you are much too good for this place! Barrytown will suit the likes of you better.” The nun gave two short hoots of laughter and rolled off to the door on her broad black feet.
“Bridie Fallan, you must have five pages written by the end of lunch!” she called. “Or it’s the same again for you tomorrow!”
“Yes, Sister!” Bridie stood as the nun marched out.
They heard her lock the door behind her.
Ruth sat still, staring in front of her. She couldn’t quite work out what had happened. After a few moments she turned around. Poor Bridie was diligently bent over her work. Her left arm was still tied up behind her back. A fresh rush of anger swept through Ruth.
When You Wish upon a Rat Page 13
