CHAPTER 7
My Dead Dad’s Feet
Every year, around Christmas, we put on a concert for the inspectors and parents. It was usually a combination of singing and Irish dancing, although one year we put on a production of The Gondoliers. We got to dress up in different clothes and wound our hair around bits of torn sheet at night to make ringlets, but it was all taken very seriously, so it wasn’t any fun. Since I had no visitors – and there was nobody in the audience who mattered to me – there was nothing to get excited about.
I was too shy to sing in front of the nuns because I was so frightened of them. Worried that I’d be told I was no good, I hardly made a sound at chapel or in the concert rehearsals. I’d be slapped on the legs and told, ‘Sing!’ but that only made it more difficult. In the end, it was generally assumed that I couldn’t sing, so I was told to mime, along with the other non-singers. We had to shine for the inspectors or be quiet.
This year the rehearsals were going well. The Irish dancing and the choir were almost perfect – the nuns, as usual, would settle for nothing less. One night Sister Constantine asked me to stay behind and sweep the hall. She was one of the nicer nuns. There was a soft spot in her, although she, too, had her moments. I picked up a broom and began sweeping the stage. Everyone else had gone to the dormitories, so I was alone. Looking down from the stage at all the chairs that needed to be stacked before I swept the hall, I knew it was going to be a while before I’d be finished, but I didn’t mind. It gave me a bit of time to be alone with my thoughts, which was rare in the convent.
There was a song going through my head, the song that Kathleen O’Neil hadn’t been able to get right at the rehearsal. Kathleen, a senior, was the only girl singing solo at the concert. Although she’d practised the song many times, she was still having problems with it. I knew it well – it was a ballad – and because I was on my own, I sang it as I swept. I found it easy to reach all the notes and couldn’t understand why it was a problem for Kathleen. I sang it again, much louder this time, making full use of the hall’s acoustics and the fact that I was alone. I put my heart and soul into it, and the stage was done by the time I’d reached the last few bars. Suddenly, the sound of clapping startled me. Sister Constantine stepped into view.
‘There will be no more excuses from you for not singing in future. You have a beautiful gift, and I’m sure Our Lord gave it to you so you could use it.’
I froze at the realisation that I wouldn’t be able to get out of singing in front of people now, even though the idea petrified me. Sister Constantine helped me stack the chairs and sweep the hall and asked me to sing some more as we worked. On the way back to the dormitory I felt pleased with myself for getting the songs right but wondered if they would sound so good in front of an audience. I soon found out. Sister Constantine wouldn’t let it go and so I joined the choir. Later I went on to be head choirgirl in the chapel. I even sang the solo at the concert the following year.
There was no one in the dormitory when I got there, but I could hear some girls in the washroom. Two nuns and a group of girls were having a discussion by one of the toilet doors. Immediately, I sensed that something odd was going on. One of the nuns was shouting at the door, ‘Come out this instant! You will open this door right now!’
I spotted Chrissie among the girls and made my way over to her. ‘What’s happening?’ I whispered.
Chrissie explained that whoever was locked in the toilet wouldn’t answer or come out. The nuns couldn’t figure out who it was, as no one seemed to be missing, and they were going to break down the door soon if the person didn’t open it.
I was as puzzled as everyone else and stepped towards the door to give it a push. Suddenly, it flew open, before I’d even touched it. Startled, I jumped back and looked to see who was there, but the cubicle was empty. It was mystifying. The door had definitely been locked, or else jammed shut, so how could it suddenly fly open? One of the nuns stepped inside the cubicle and locked, unlocked and opened it several times with no difficulty. She turned around and gave me the strangest of looks, then ordered all of the girls to kneel down and pray.
Several weeks passed and nothing unusual happened; so far it had been a rather uneventful day. I hadn’t been feeling very well but was managing to struggle through. It was now early evening, and Irish dancing had begun. I danced the four-hand reel and was finishing the eight-hand reel when I suddenly felt sick.
‘You’ve gone really white,’ said my partner, Margaret. ‘Are you OK?’
‘What are you two girls whispering about?’ Sister Kevin snapped. She walked over with her stick pointed accusingly at us.
‘I’m sorry, Sister, but I don’t think Frances is feeling well, and I just told her she looked really pale.’
‘Can’t you speak for yourself, Reilly?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ was all I could say. I clamped my hand to my mouth in an attempt to hold back the vomit that was rising up my throat.
‘Outside! Quickly, girl!’ she shouted. I made it to the outside drain and threw up. Sister Kevin was behind me. ‘Now get a bucket of water and Jeyes Fluid and clean out the drain,’ she barked. ‘Then get yourself off to your dormitory. You’re no good to me like this.’
I struggled back to the drain with a large metal bucket full to the brim with hot water and Jeyes Fluid. The smell of the fluid and the sight and smell of the vomit made me nauseous again, but I managed not to retch as I carefully washed out the drain. When I was sure that all traces of vomit were gone, I returned the bucket and slowly made my way to the dormitory.
It was a relief to lie down to rest for a while. I still felt ill, but nowhere near as bad as I had a few minutes earlier. Closing my eyes, I concentrated hard on trying to switch myself off from my surroundings, but after about twenty minutes I had to get up and go to the toilet, which was annoying, as it wasn’t very often that I managed to find time to relax.
The strangest thing happened as I sat on the toilet. Looking down at the floor, a pair of boots appeared in front of me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The boots were black and well worn with heavy green cloth wrapped around the tops but no legs or body connected to them. I shut my eyes tightly and covered them with my hands, assuming that I must be hallucinating. Tentatively, I parted my hands until I could just see the floor. To my relief, there was nothing there. But then, almost immediately, the boots reappeared. They looked so real that I felt sure I could reach down and touch them. I was completely spooked, so I closed my eyes, quickly pulled up my knickers and fumbled about for the door handle. Yanking the door open, I jumped out of the cubicle, dashed through the bathroom and dormitory and flew down the stairs. I had no idea where I was running to when I bumped right into the Mother Superior.
She seemed really annoyed at first, but seeing that I was shaking violently – and that what little colour there normally was in my face had drained away – she realised I was terrified. Quickly regaining her composure, she tried to calm me down and find out why I was running scared, but I was still in a state of shock and unable to speak. I tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t come out, so she guided me to her office.
I walked along beside her, unsure if I was in trouble or not. Once in the office I was told to sit. She sat down in her own chair, behind the desk, and once more told me to calm down and explain myself. I was afraid that I might not be believed, but soon the truth came spilling out. She quizzed me about the boots and the green cloth, and I was amazed to find that she was taking me seriously.
‘You have a special gift from God to be able to see these things. I’m sure those feet were your father’s. You know he was in the army, and the boots you describe sound just like the sort of boots he would have worn. The green cloth could have been his army gaiters. I think your father is asking you to pray for him. His soul may not be in Heaven yet. It may be in Purgatory, and only prayers will get him to Heaven. Now we must pray. Let’s get back to your dormitory.’
I was relieved that she�
�d believed me. By the time we got back to the dormitory, the other girls had returned from Irish dancing. The Reverend Mother told us all to kneel down by our beds while she said some prayers with us. I noticed that some of the other girls didn’t look too pleased to be praying again; they probably thought they already spent more than enough time on their knees. The Reverend Mother went on to explain what had happened to me in the toilet and that our prayers were to be offered up for the Reillys’ father, to get him into Heaven. Some of the seniors threw me disgusted looks. I felt awful at being the cause of their extra prayers and worried that some of them might try to get back at me.
As we prayed, I wondered if my father would appear to me again, and if he did, would I see more of him than just his boots? I hoped I’d see him again and was determined to try to talk to him the next time. Now I knew it was him, I was sure I wouldn’t be at all afraid. Perhaps he might even have a message for me. The Reverend Mother kept us praying for quite some time before she was happy that we had done all we could for Mr Reilly.
After she had left the room, I heard some of the girls saying that I was a freak, which was hurtful. It was clear that they were annoyed with me for getting them extra prayers, but after what had happened with the toilet door, this made me even more of an outsider. I was often called a freak after that. Still, Chrissie, my best friend, was fascinated, and as soon as we were alone, I told her all about it. She thought I was really special to have seen something like that and said that the other girls were probably jealous of my powers, or frightened of them. I was so glad to have a friend like Chrissie.
CHAPTER 8
Christmas
Carol practice was coming to an end, and Sister Francis, who was conducting us, seemed pleased with our efforts. We had no idea what her arm-waving gestures meant or why she bothered with them, since they made absolutely no difference to the way we sang and made her look ridiculous. Still, our harmonies sounded good.
We were singing ‘Silent Night’ when Sister Kevin and Sister Thomas entered the hall. They stood quietly by the door, their heads bowed reverently as they listened. Eventually, the bell sounded for dinner and we moved into lines.
‘Not you, Reilly!’ Sister Thomas called out. ‘You come with me.’
What now? I tried to think of something I’d said or done that could have got me into trouble, but nothing came to mind. If I could only think what it might be, then perhaps I could come up with an explanation. As I waited for the others to leave the hall, I became really worried and could feel my body trembling. Some of the girls gave me discomfiting looks, as if to say, ‘What did you do?’
As the last girl left, Loretta and Sinéad walked in. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t in trouble. Then, suddenly, it dawned on me what this was all about. We hadn’t seen our mammy since the day she’d left us outside the convent, but every year, just before Christmas, a tea chest filled to the top with presents would arrive from England. I used to imagine that it took her a whole year of scrimping and saving to fill it up.
The time had come around again to go through the yearly ritual of seeing what she’d sent us, without being allowed to keep any of it. There was always three of everything – three dolls, three selection boxes and three sets of clothes. Each item would be taken out and shown to us, and once we’d had a good look at everything, the nuns would confiscate it, telling us it was going to ‘a more deserving cause’. I never quite understood why they bothered to show us the gifts in the first place, but even though we wouldn’t be getting any of it, I did like to know what Mammy had sent.
We followed the nuns to a storeroom where there was a large tea chest covered in stamps, with an address written in handwriting that I’d come to recognise. It seemed odd to me that even though I didn’t know what our mammy looked like, I knew her handwriting straight away.
The tea chest was our only evidence that she existed, that she still thought about us and perhaps, one day, would come for us. A strange feeling came over me as I stared at it. I wanted to get as close to it as possible because our mammy’s hands had touched it and everything inside it. I experienced a rush of sadness. Why had she never come back for us, not even for a visit?
Inside the chest was a letter. Sister Thomas opened it. All letters that came to the convent had to be read first by a nun, who would decide if they should then be handed on to the girls. It was the same rule for letters going out. If the nuns didn’t approve of them, they wouldn’t be posted.
Sister Francis lifted a large box out of the chest. ‘This one has your name on it, Loretta Reilly,’ she said, placing it on the floor.
My mouth dropped open. Standing inside the box was the most beautiful doll that I had ever seen. Dressed like a bride, it was as big as Sinéad, with curly blonde hair that looked like real hair and could be brushed into different hairstyles. The face was Delft porcelain. The eyes looked so real that they seemed to be staring straight at me.
Sister Kevin pulled out two much smaller boxes, about a third of the size of Loretta’s, and handed one to Sinéad and the other to me. Inside my box was a small black doll with little gold earrings and short black hair. I looked across to see what Sinéad had got – a doll the same size as mine but with a pink dress and long yellow hair. Our dolls were nice, and I tried to look pleased, but I was deeply disappointed that they didn’t compare to Loretta’s. I looked back at the beautiful bride doll, with its gorgeous satin dress and shoes to match, and I couldn’t help but think that our mammy must love Loretta the most.
It was the same with all the gifts. Loretta got the biggest and the best, while Sinéad’s and mine were smaller. There were boxes of chocolates, selection boxes, dolls’ clothes, puzzles and games, a mixture of other toys and lots of clothes. Everything was really lovely, but all I could focus on was the big doll. Sinéad didn’t seem to be looking at anything else, either, and I assumed she was feeling the same as I was.
I put my arm around her and said, ‘Your doll’s lovely, too.’
She said nothing but seemed to be on the verge of tears.
Sister Thomas told us that Mammy had written to say that she would try to come to see us but ‘was finding it hard at present’.
That’s what she always writes, I thought. Usually, I believed her words, but this time I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to have them dashed again.
‘Now, put your dolls down on this table and get yourselves back to the other girls for dinner,’ Sister Kevin said. ‘These presents will go to children more deserving of them.’
‘They’ve got no right to take our stuff,’ Loretta muttered angrily as we walked away.
‘It’s not fair. Nothing’s fair,’ I sobbed, wiping away my tears.
Sinéad didn’t speak. She just walked along with her head down.
‘Come on now, we have to be strong. We’ll get out of here one day, I promise ye, and I hope it won’t be too long till it happens,’ Loretta said, trying to cheer us up. For the moment it seemed to do the trick. We wiped our eyes and put on a brave face before joining the others in the refectory.
One glance at my plate of stew made me feel sick, and I began to wish I’d missed dinner. As usual there was no sign of meat on the plate. I shunted the fat and gristle around with my fork, dreading the moment I’d have to put it in my mouth.
‘Ye’d think, by now, that we’d be used to eating this slop,’ I said.
‘Ye never get used to it,’ Mary said, from across the table.
‘I bet ye the nuns wouldn’t eat it,’ added Rita.
‘I’ll never eat one bit of fat ever again when I get out of this place,’ I vowed.
Normally, I ate what was in front of me without complaint. After all, what was the point in moaning? It wouldn’t change anything. But today I couldn’t stop thinking about Loretta’s beautiful bridal doll and was consumed by the awful suspicion that our mammy didn’t care as much about Sinéad and me as she did about Loretta. I also found myself thinking about my older sister, Marie, whom I’d nev
er met.
A few days earlier someone had smuggled in a Christmas card from Marie, which Loretta had hidden. It seemed strange to be getting a card from a sister that I didn’t know, and I’d been thinking about her a lot over the last few days. What did she look like? Did she think about us often? Did the nuns at her convent hate her as much as the Reillys were hated here? And why had our mammy put us in separate convents, instead of keeping us all together?
Right now I was wondering if Marie also got presents at Christmas, and whether she’d received a bridal doll like Loretta’s. I felt myself starting to get jealous of Marie. I’d always believed that our mammy loved us all the same, but now I wasn’t sure.
I’d made endless excuses to the other girls for why she never came to visit. She was too sick, I’d say, or she lived so far away that she couldn’t afford the fare. I’d repeated these excuses so often that I’d begun believing them myself, but now I wondered what was true. If our mammy really loved us, she would visit us, wouldn’t she?
Picking up on my despair, Mary said, ‘I’ll eat that for ye, Frances, and ye can do me a favour one day when I need help. Put it on my plate when we’re not being watched.’
I felt my face light up. ‘Are ye sure, Mary?’ We weren’t close, so I was shocked that she would want to eat my disgusting food for me.
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