Suffer The Little Children

by Frances Reilly

  We turned off the corridor into a massive bathroom. The floor was tiled, and the walls were painted in the same sickly colours as the corridor. There were two rows of sinks, a long row of toilets and a row of large white baths with feet.

  ‘Hold your wee sister for me while I get some help,’ Sister Lucius said, handing baby Sinéad back to Loretta.

  She left the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with another nun. They turned on the bath taps, put on plastic aprons and rolled up their sleeves. Sister Lucius picked up a large can from the floor and poured some dark brown liquid into the bath. Loretta couldn’t read the writing on the side saying, ‘Jeyes Fluid’, but it didn’t smell too nice. Sister Lucius washed Sinéad in one of the large sinks, while the other nun bathed Loretta and me. The brown liquid felt like it was burning us, but it didn’t seem to matter to the nun how much we cried or tried to get out of the bath – she just kept scrubbing and pushing us back down into the murky water. By the time she’d finished and we were allowed to get out, our skin was rubbed raw and we were crying uncontrollably.

  The Reverend Mother came into the bathroom. In her hands were what looked like potato sacks, some long grey socks, white vests and navy-blue knickers.

  ‘Put these on,’ she said. Using just one finger and thumb, she picked up the clean clothes we’d been wearing and dropped them into a green plastic bag.

  Seeing this, I broke free from the nun who was rubbing me down with a rough towel and ran towards the Reverend Mother crying, ‘I want my suit! Give me back my suit!’

  Sister Lucius pulled me back, while Loretta explained tearfully that the little red trouser suit had been a present from our father, who was away in India with the army. The Reverend Mother looked very angry.

  ‘We don’t have personal possessions in the Lord’s house!’ she snapped, her voice getting louder with each word. ‘Everyone’s the same here, and you will learn to live with it.’

  As the nun spoke, a paralysing chill gripped Loretta’s body, and for the first time in her life she felt really afraid. I must have felt it too because I immediately stopped crying and gave up the idea of getting my suit back. We obediently put on our convent-issue clothes, while Sister Lucius dressed Sinéad in a plain nursery gown, and then we followed the Reverend Mother to another room. With no idea of what might happen next, there was nothing to do but sit and wait. Time passed slowly. Every now and then I’d ask Loretta when our mammy was coming back to get us. Each time I asked she replied, ‘Soon,’ in an attempt to comfort me. ‘We won’t be here long,’ she told me. ‘Mammy will come and get us as soon as she can, so ye’ll have to be very brave.’

  Of course, she had no idea when our mother would come for us. She told me later that she was hoping that she’d turn up right now and say that this was all some sort of mistake, but deep down she knew it wasn’t going to happen.

  After what seemed like well over an hour, we heard voices on the other side of the door. Sitting quietly, we strained to hear what was being said. The nuns were talking in whispers, and it was difficult to make anything out, but Loretta heard one of them say, ‘They won’t like being separated.’ The door opened and two nuns entered the room. One snatched Sinéad out of Loretta’s arms and abruptly left the room; the other nun told us to follow her. We walked along more corridors and up several flights of stairs. No one spoke, not the nuns or the girls we passed on the way. The silence seemed unnatural, and a wave of intense homesickness swept over us.

  We arrived at a dormitory, which reminded Loretta of an old picture she’d seen of an army hospital ward. The ceiling was high and the windows tall. Holy pictures of Jesus and various saints hung on the walls, which were painted the same sickly green as the corridors. Hard horsehair-filled mattresses lay on the floor, coated in DDT powder. Iron beds were lined up military style in two rows along the longest walls, with bedding folded neatly at the foot of each. Slotted between the beds were small wooden lockers. The nun led Loretta to a bed at the end of the dormitory.

  ‘This is your bed. You will stay here until the bell goes,’ she said. Scooping me up, she began to make her way out of the dormitory.

  Panicking, I screamed and reached out to Loretta with desperate arms, kicking against the nun with every last drop of energy. ‘Loretta! Mammy! Noooo!’ I shrieked, hysterical now. Loretta ran to the dormitory door and watched, distraught, as I was carried away, struggling fiercely. She could still hear my piercing screams long after I’d disappeared from view down the corridor.

  She walked back to her bed and tried to make sense of what was happening. She couldn’t understand why our mammy had left us at the gate. Plucked out of her home, separated from her family and torn away from Sinéad and me, she’d lost everyone she loved and had no idea why. Unable to think clearly, she sat on the edge of the high bed and began to sob quietly to herself. What were we doing here? Where had the nuns taken Sinéad and me? And when was Mammy coming back to get us?

  CHAPTER 2

  Juniors

  Four years passed. Our mother didn’t return. The nuns’ brainwashing had worked and we were now obedient convent girls. There was no point trying to fight it. The only way to survive was to try to stay out of trouble.

  Loretta’s reward for behaving well was to visit Sinéad and me in the infants’ section once a week. We looked forward to her visits and made the most of every minute she was with us. She’d sing to us and tell us stories about Mammy coming back, about getting a big house and being happy together. So, for a few minutes a week, Sinéad and I got to imagine what it might be like to be normal.

  Loretta also told us about our big sister, Marie, who lived on the opposite side of the road behind another high wall, at the Good Shepherd Convent. She explained that Marie had gone to the Good Shepherd before I was born, which was why I had no memory of her. She was several years older than Loretta. Every Christmas we got a card from her, and once in a while someone would sneak in a message from her, but I had no idea what she looked like or what sort of person she was.

  My memories of life in the infants’ section are sketchy at best, and only a few clear images remain. We slept in long rows of cots with metal bars in a cavernous room with a single dim light. One night I woke up in the middle of a nightmare, sweating and terrified. Rattling the bars of my cot, I called and screamed for someone to come, but no one did. Another time I remember being repeatedly pushed back down onto a freezing-cold chamber pot and told to stay there until I went to the toilet, even though I didn’t want to. Other memories come back in flashes: the strange taste of hot milk served in plastic cups, the clink of a metal mug against my teeth, endless meals of stale bread soaked in milk.

  I was six now, which meant that I was moving to the juniors. Loretta was in the seniors, but I’d be able to see a lot more of her, as we’d be in the same part of the building. She tried to prepare me for the move by telling me what would be expected from me as a junior. I listened carefully, not wanting to get anything wrong. For me, the move was both exciting and frightening. One of my best friends, Mary, had already gone to the juniors, and I was looking forward to seeing her again. With any luck, we’d be in the same dormitory. But I was worried about leaving Sinéad. I knew I’d miss her and my little friend Josephine. Josephine and I had a really special friendship. She was devoted to me and followed me around everywhere, like a little duckling.

  Sister Thomas came to get me. I was terrified of her straight away.

  ‘You will be in my dormitory,’ she said, ‘and I will be watching you every minute of the day.’

  Her harsh tone sent chills through me. Her eyes were filled with malice. We walked through the convent in silence.

  Sister Thomas was in charge of St Joseph’s Dormitory, which was the worst dormitory you could get because Sister Thomas was the worst nun in the convent, according to Loretta. She was young in comparison with the other nuns and not unattractive, but the coldness and cruelty of her personality gave a severe edge to her features. She had very he
avy, prominent eyebrows and never smiled unless there was a priest present, or someone from outside the convent. There was spite in her hazel eyes and her default expression was one of disgust or loathing.

  We stopped off at a clothes storeroom on the way to the dormitory. All the girls wore donated clothes, and in the juniors and seniors we had to wear a checked gingham apron, too. The storeroom nun gave me a blue-and-white apron and showed me how to wear it over my clothes, buttoned at the back. Then she handed over a pair of heavy, black lace-up shoes and a pair of socks that were supposed to last an entire year. I was responsible for washing them myself, she told me. She also gave me a dull navy ribbon with which to tie my hair back.

  In the juniors and seniors each girl had a number, which was called out when we were allocated work. We were sometimes called by surname, but our Christian names were very rarely used.

  ‘You’re number four, Reilly,’ she said. ‘You will sew a number four onto all your clothes.’

  Soon we moved on to the dormitory, which was quiet and empty. Sister Thomas explained curtly that the others were at chapel for prayers. She showed me to my bed.

  ‘I’ll send someone for you when it’s dinnertime. Wait by your bed until then.’

  To my relief, she left the dormitory. I looked around me. The room seemed huge, particularly so because I was very small for my age. The beds and lockers were much bigger than I was used to in the infants. Climbing up onto my bed, I sat with my legs dangling over the side, gazing at the empty beds and wondering who’d be in them and what they’d be like. Then I tried to imagine how the dormitory would feel at night. Scary, I thought.

  I’d been alone for around twenty minutes when I heard footsteps, the sound of someone skipping or running. I leapt off my bed as Loretta and another girl came in. I was thrilled to see my sister and even happier when she told me that I’d be sleeping in the bed next to hers. At the same time I had another pang for Sinéad, the sister I knew best.

  Loretta and her friend had come to take me down to the refectory for dinner. We had to rush to be on time, so any further chatter would have to wait till later, Loretta said. But on our way, even though talking in the corridors was strictly forbidden, she introduced me to everyone we met.

  ‘This is my little sister,’ she said, obviously keen to show me off.

  Joining a line of girls walking in single file, we entered a large room filled with row upon row of wooden tables and chairs. Each girl walked to a chair and stood behind it. Loretta found me a chair and placed it next to hers. A few minutes later the Reverend Mother came in, and we put our hands together for prayer. After grace, each table of girls lined up at a wooden hatch set into the far wall.

  ‘Come on, we have to get in line for dinner,’ Loretta said.

  She shoved me in between two younger girls. They didn’t seem to mind and were clearly in no hurry to receive the food they were about to be given. I understood why when my turn came to pass my plate over to the nun behind the hatch. An absolutely disgusting smell hit me. Loretta whispered that it was a combination of boiled cabbage and dead animals, and it had made her feel quite sick the first few times she’d smelt it. The nun took my plate and ladled on some potatoes and cabbage from two huge saucepans. Water dripped from the ladle as she slopped its contents onto the plate. This was followed by a spoonful of something that I didn’t recognise. I took the plate and followed Loretta to the table, where the girls were now talking in whispers. The Reverend Mother had gone, but two nuns were walking around, patrolling the tables.

  ‘I can’t eat this,’ I said, staring down at my plate of slop and gristle. The food in the infants had been bad, but not this bad; anyway, I was so nervous and scared that I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold anything down.

  ‘Ye have to eat it all, or ye’ll get it back every meal until ye do. Hang on, and I’ll eat it for ye this time. But ye’ll have to get used to it because it doesn’t get any better than this.’

  Loretta snatched my plate and ate the food quickly, before the nuns could see. I appreciated what my sister had done for me but knew I’d have to eat it myself next time. Still, I wasn’t going to worry about that for the moment. I heard a bell and turned to see where the sound was coming from. One of the nuns was walking up and down ringing a hand bell and chanting.

  ‘Pudding! Tapioca, I think,’ Loretta said, and she pushed me into another line.

  A nun dropped a dollop of tapioca into my bowl. Loretta told me that it always reminded her of the frog’s spawn Daddy had shown her once. She’d been served it on her first day at the convent and hadn’t been able to imagine putting it in her mouth and swallowing it. Another girl had eaten it for her when the nuns weren’t looking.

  By the time dinner was over, everybody knew who I was. Loretta’s friends kept smiling at me, and I felt a bit self-conscious. I’d seen Mary in the refectory but hadn’t got a chance to talk to her yet. Another bell rang, and we stood up, said grace and lined up again in silence.

  ‘Where are we going now?’ I whispered.

  ‘Benediction. Ye’ll have to be quiet or we’ll get into trouble.’

  We walked in single file from the refectory to the chapel, where a nun sternly watched as each girl genuflected in front of the altar. One girl’s knees didn’t meet the floor, and as she stood up, the nun grabbed her by the ear and forced her down until her knees hit the floor. I was careful not to make the same mistake.

  After Benediction we went into the convent grounds. Loretta explained that we had to stay outside for an hour’s recreation. It was freezing, and the cold winter air stung my skin. The girls split up into small groups. Some of them had races to keep themselves warm. Others skipped or played games they’d made up. Loretta and I walked around in circles, while she went over what was expected of me in the juniors. There were so many rules to remember. It seemed that the day was made up mostly of praying and cleaning or lining up to a bell. There were two hours a day for recreation: one hour had to be spent outside, but during winter the other hour could be spent in the hall.

  ‘When the nuns call your number,’ she told me, ‘ye have to answer, “Yes, Sister.” We can call each other by name, but we’re just a number to them.’

  We sat down on the outside steps, hugging our knees to keep ourselves warm, and she told me more about her first day at the convent. It had all seemed so strange compared to home – the silence, the bells, the lines of girls and the disgusting food. For the first time I began to get a sense of how devastated she’d been, how desperately she worried about Sinéad and me. We talked and shivered until the bell went for us to line up again.

  I followed Loretta around all day as she helped me get used to the routine. Every time the bell went, she’d guide me into the right line. We spent the afternoon working in the laundry, where Sister Mary was on duty. Sister Mary didn’t seem as rigid as the other nuns I’d met that day and let Loretta and me work together, but she still expected the work to be done properly. We worked on one of the long rolling machines. Loretta fed the sheets in one end, and I took them out of the other, folding them exactly as Sister Mary had shown me. It was hard going and tired me out, but at least the steam from the rollers kept us warm. Time passed quickly, and soon the bell went again. This time it was back to the chapel for Rosary, which seemed to go on forever. I wasn’t used to long, formal services. We’d done a lot of praying in the infants but never in the chapel with the older girls.

  Then it was back to the refectory. Tea was white boiled fish and a slice of stale bread with a small amount of butter. I managed to eat it myself this time. It didn’t have much taste, but I was hungry after all the work I’d done.

  I thought it was really good having my big sister to show me around and look out for me, but I was really missing Sinéad, who wouldn’t be coming to the juniors for another two years. Loretta must have sensed how I was feeling.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘you’ll see Sinéad once a week, with me.’

  But I didn�
�t like the thought of seeing my little sister for just a few minutes a week. I knew that I would have to accept it, but I worried that Sinéad had no family around her. I decided that the only way I could help her now was to pray for her, so I closed my eyes and asked God to take special care of her.

  I finally managed to catch up with Mary at recreation time. We were so pleased to see each other that we talked constantly until the bell went for Irish dancing in the hall. With its sickly green walls and bare floorboards, the hall was as dismal as the rest of the convent, but I loved Irish dancing, and the nuns said I’d be good at it if I put my mind to it. Everyone had to pick a partner, and I was glad when Mary chose me. One of the nuns put on a crackly record, and Mary and I danced well together.

  I noticed some of the other girls being dragged around the floor by nuns. ‘Lift your feet up, girl!’ one of the nuns shouted. She slapped the girl across the face and head.

  I looked on, horrified, as the girl’s face crumpled with pain and embarrassment. But everyone else carried on dancing as if nothing unusual had happened, which it hadn’t. Suddenly, the girl screamed, and I turned around to see the nun pulling her out of the room by the hair. The hall’s heavy wooden doors banged shut. There were a few more muffled screams and then everything went quiet, except for the sound of the Irish dance music.

  I felt really sorry for the girl but was relieved that the nun hadn’t picked on me. My time in the infants hadn’t been pleasant. I’d been pushed, pulled, rapped on the knuckles and shouted at more times than I could remember, but it wasn’t as bad as this. I was suddenly aware of just how harsh the juniors was going to be, and I decided to try to be good at everything so that the nuns would have no reason to hit me.

  After dancing we went back to the dormitory to get ready for bed. First we washed, then we lined up to show Sister Thomas our clean necks, hands and faces.

  ‘Thank you, Sister. Number four, Sister,’ I said when it came to my turn. I was glad it was bedtime. It had been a long day compared to our days in the infants. I lay in bed and thought again about Sinéad, about how much I loved and missed her. I prayed long and hard for her until I was sure that God would look after her.