The Little Orphan Girl

by Sandy Taylor

  Sally walked across to the window and stood looking down onto the graveyard. She seemed so alone but something stopped us from moving towards her; it felt as if she was lost to us and then we saw her shoulders heave and a guttural noise that didn’t sound human rose up from the very depths of her. She was looking down at the wet patch on her blouse. ‘I need to feed my baby,’ she sobbed. ‘Please let me feed my baby. Oh please, she’ll be hungry.’

  We were on our feet in an instant, holding her, stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort. They might not have been the right words but suddenly it didn’t matter. She slid down onto the floor and we fell with her, rocking her like a child and letting her cry out all the sadness that she’d been keeping inside. We held her until the crying ceased, not speaking any more, just holding her. We stayed like that for so long that our three bodies seemed to become one.

  Later that day, we stood on the steps and watched her walk down the drive with her parents. When she got to the gate she turned back and gave a small wave.

  After Sally left, it felt awfully strange with only the two of us in the bedroom.

  When I’d first arrived at the convent I’d thought there’d be loads of girls there and was surprised to find only three others.

  Sally had explained. ‘The nuns only take in six girls at a time, because they also run St Steven’s, the orphanage down the road.’

  I was worried that once Rose left, I’d be on my own but a couple of weeks later, we were joined by two sisters from Kilkenny. Their names were Agnus and Orla and they were like two peas in a pod, with fiery red hair and bright blue eyes.

  ‘What the hell did your parents say when they found out the pair of you were pregnant?’ said Rose.

  ‘The mammy nearly lost her reason,’ said Agnus. ‘The poor woman had to take to her bed and the parish priest was a permanent fixture in the house. It was like a bloody mausoleum in there.’

  ‘And he felt the need to sprinkle holy water over everything, including us. The eejit of a man had me hair bloody ruined,’ said Orla.

  ‘What about your father?’ I said.

  ‘He took to the drink.’

  ‘Not that he hadn’t taken to it before our disgrace, our downfall just gave him a good excuse to keep throwing it down his throat,’ said Orla, smirking.

  ‘But both of you?’ said Rose. ‘At the same time?’

  ‘I know, aren’t we desperate sinners?’ said Agnus.

  ‘We went to a local dance down at the town hall,’ explained Orla. ‘Some of the lads from the country had smuggled in some poteen.’

  I’d heard of it, but Rose hadn’t. ‘What the bloody hell’s that?’ she said.

  ‘It’s Irish whiskey,’ said Agnus, ‘they make it up in the hills.’

  ‘It’s deadly stuff,’ said Orla. ‘It’d take the throat off ya.’

  ‘Or in our case, our virginity,’ said Agnus.

  ‘Were the lads nice?’ I said.

  ‘I can’t remember much about my one,’ said Orla. ‘But the boots on her feller looked like a couple of clodhoppers. I swear to God they still had bits of straw stuck to them.’

  ‘I don’t know what we were thinking,’ said Agnus.

  ‘I’ve a pretty good idea,’ said Rose, grinning.

  The pair of them were like a breath of fresh air and helped Rose and I deal with the sadness we were feeling over our friend.

  ‘God, that was a desperate thing to happen,’ said Agnus when we told them about Sally.

  ‘And did you say it took two days to be born?’ said Orla.

  I nodded, feeling queasy at the thought.

  ‘Jesus, I thought they just popped out like peas! That’s what our friend Bernadette said anyway.’

  ‘Well, I’d say your friend Bernadette was having you on,’ said Rose.

  ‘I’ll kill her when we get back,’ said Orla.

  Some mornings I woke up and looked across at the beds, expecting May and Sally to be tucked up in them only to remember that it was Agnus and Orla asleep under the blankets.

  My body was changing, and I hated it: it was a daily reminder of what I’d done. My breasts had always been small but now they were straining out of my clothes like a couple of overripe watermelons.

  ‘You need to talk to one of the nuns about getting some smocks, they’ll be more comfortable and give the baby room to grow,’ said Rose.

  I hadn’t even thought about giving the baby room, I couldn’t quite imagine a real baby inside me. I suddenly felt ashamed that I felt this way about an innocent child that had as much right to be loved as any of God’s creatures but my growing belly was a constant reminder of Peter and my foolishness. I wanted this child to be born, I wanted to forget about its father. And I wanted to go back home where I belonged.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  A few weeks later, I was summoned to Mother Ignatius’s office.

  ‘What do you think she wants?’ I asked Rose.

  ‘I don’t know, but I’d say you’re about to find out.’

  ‘Thanks for the help,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I’m not a bloody fortune teller, am I? Perhaps she thinks you’re such a holy girl, you might want to join the good nuns as a postulant.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I’ll wait in the garden for you and you can tell me what she wanted.’

  I splashed some water on my face, put a comb through my hair and ran downstairs.

  ‘Ah, Cissy, sit down, child,’ said Mother Ignatius.

  I sat and waited while she shuffled through some papers on the desk.

  ‘Now this is a little unusual,’ she said. ‘We had a family all ready to take Sally’s baby and their hearts are broken that the poor child died. I took it upon myself to mention you and that you were soon to give birth. I said I would speak to you first and if you are willing, these good people would like to adopt your child. Like I said, these are unusual circumstances and I will understand if this is not something that sits happily with you.’

  I hadn’t expected this, that my child would be a replacement for Sally’s child. ‘I don’t know what to think, Mother,’ I said honestly.

  ‘Do you want to talk it over with Rose before you give me an answer?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, please, I think I would.’

  I stood up and went towards the door. ‘Are they good people?’ I asked, turning around.

  ‘I’ve only met Mrs Grainger, Mr Grainger is away in America, working. She’s a lovely woman, Cissy, and she longs to be a mother. Your child would be going to a good Catholic home. But don’t be rushed into making a decision, talk to Rose and let me know.’

  ‘Blimey!’ said Rose, when I joined her on the bench. ‘I don’t know what to think either. Your child would be living the life that Sally’s child should have lived, now that’s strange.’

  ‘Mmm, that’s what I’m thinking.’

  ‘On the other hand, they never met Sally’s baby, they wouldn’t be comparing them, would they? Your baby wouldn’t be second best. At the moment they are mourning a child they never knew or loved.’

  ‘Do you think I should agree, then?’

  ‘You’re certain you don’t want to keep the baby?’

  I wished people wouldn’t keep asking me that question. I’d made up my mind and I wasn’t going to change it. Keeping this baby would mean I could never return home. Ballybun was a small town, Peter Bretton would be sure to find out but even more importantly, I couldn’t do that to Colm or the mammy. ‘I don’t have a choice, Rose,’ I said.

  ‘Then I think you should say yes.’

  ‘I wonder why Iggy chose my baby and not yours; you’re due before me.’

  ‘Mine is already spoken for, Cissy.’

  ‘You never said.’

  Rose shrugged her shoulders. ‘Iggy had them picked out as soon as I came here.’

  I had to keep strong, I couldn’t waver now. ‘I suppose I’ll say yes then.’

  ‘You might as well, because if it’s not this cou
ple, it’s going to be another and that will mean staying here longer, until they find someone else.’

  That made my mind up, because the sooner I got back to Ireland, the better.

  Rose’s baby arrived the next day. She never even made it upstairs, she had her little girl in the refectory, after a good dinner of beef stew and sponge pudding, which she brought up all over the refectory floor. The nuns were running around like madwomen, fetching towels and blankets, all the time reassuring Rose that everything was going to be alright and not to start pushing just yet. But Rose’s baby was waiting for no one and Sister Gertrude only just caught the little girl, otherwise she would have slid under the dining room table. They wrapped her in a towel and handed her to me, while they helped Rose. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. One minute we had been chatting over dinner and the next I was watching Rose give birth.

  ‘Can I see her?’ asked Rose softly.

  I held the baby towards her. She moved the towel away from the baby’s face and gently touched her cheek. ‘Is she alright, Cissy?’

  I could feel hot tears burning behind my eyes. ‘She’s perfect, Rose,’ I said.

  I followed them upstairs, carefully holding the baby. She was making little mewing noises, like a kitten, and she felt warm and surprising heavy in my arms. Rose looked back at me and smiled. ‘Mind you don’t drop her, Cissy.’

  ‘I’m not a complete eejit, I think I can carry a baby up some stairs,’ I said, smiling back at her.

  Sister Gertrude took the baby from my arms. ‘I’ll give her a little clean up and I’ll bring her right back to you, Rose.’

  Sister Theresa settled Rose in the bed. ‘You have a little rest, and then we’ll give you a refreshing wash,’ she said, leaving the room.

  I sat down next to the bed and held Rose’s hand. ‘Well, that was a bit of a shock, wasn’t it?’ I said. ‘You never said you were in pain.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ said Rose, ‘I just felt a bit sick. I thought it was the stew.’ She didn’t say anything for a while, then she said: ‘Is she pretty?’

  ‘She’s lovely, Rose.’

  Rose lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘You can tell Agnus that her friend was right after all. Jenny popped out like a pea.’

  ‘Is that what you’re calling her, Jenny?’

  ‘Yes, do you like it?’

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘It was going to be John if it was a boy but do you know what, Cissy? I always thought of my bump as Jenny. Have you got a name for yours?’

  I felt my face redden. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  The truth was that I’d never really thought about this baby as a proper person. I was sure that Mrs Grainger would love it, because she wouldn’t be plagued with nightmares about how it was conceived. I wanted nothing to do with Peter Bretton and my growing belly was a constant reminder of him. I had to believe that my child would have the loving home that I wasn’t able to give it.

  To start with, Rose was determined not to fall in love with Jenny, but of course she did – we both did. I watched as Rose fed her; she seemed to know from the start what she was doing. Sister Luke said she was a natural mother and I agreed with her.

  Jenny became our world and we couldn’t wait to race upstairs every day to see her. Everything about her fascinated us, from her bright blue eyes to her wispy fair hair. I helped Rose to bathe her and we both giggled as she kicked her chubby little legs and screwed up her face when the water splashed over her. Jenny was beautiful, just like her mother, and I dreaded the day when she would be taken away.

  Rose and I had become even closer since May and Sally had left. I admired her so much – she always seemed so strong, so sure of everything. I didn’t know her story and she didn’t know mine, and that was fine. We had made it an unwritten rule between us to keep our stories to ourselves. It had been different in May’s case because she’d needed our help and thankfully, she had trusted Rose enough to confide in her. I wanted to ask Rose if she had prepared herself for saying goodbye to Jenny but because she didn’t speak of it, I didn’t feel that I could. One night, I woke to hear her sobbing so I got into bed with her and held her in my arms. I didn’t ask her why she was crying, I didn’t have to.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  ‘I think these clothes were knitted with love,’ I said, as I watched Rose do up the pearl buttons on the little white cardigan.

  She smiled and nodded, her sadness filling the bedroom. ‘Will you come with me, Cissy?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she picked up the tiny baby and held her against her heart. ‘You won’t remember me, little one,’ she said. ‘But I’ll never forget you. I hope you have a wonderful life, my darling girl.’

  I could barely see for tears as I watched Rose kiss the baby one last time before handing her to the young woman sitting nervously in Mother Ignatius’s office. The woman’s husband stood up and took Rose’s hand. ‘You have given us a gift, Rose,’ he said, ‘and we will be forever grateful to you.’

  The young woman was staring down at the baby. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said, looking up at Rose. ‘Have you given her a name?’

  ‘Jenny,’ said Rose.

  ‘I think Jenny suits her. What do you think, Andrew?’

  ‘I think Jenny is a lovely name, dear,’ he said.

  ‘Do you mind if we keep it?’

  ‘That would make me happy,’ nodded Rose.

  The young man put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. ‘Jenny it is then,’ he said, smiling down at her.

  The young woman looked up at Rose. ‘Thank you, Rose,’ she said.

  Tears were running down Rose’s cheeks; she brushed them away with the back of her hand. ‘Take good care of her,’ she said.

  ‘We will,’ said the man. ‘I promise you that we will.’

  I put my arm around Rose as we stood on the convent steps and watched them drive away, then she broke away from me and ran down the drive after the car. I called after her and was about to follow when Mother Ignatius put her hand on my arm. ‘Leave her,’ she said sadly.

  ‘But will she be alright?’

  ‘Yes, she will, but not today, Cissy.’

  I turned to go back indoors.

  ‘I’d like to talk to you.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, following her into the room and sitting down.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you how pleased and grateful Mrs Grainger and her husband are that you have decided to let her adopt your baby.’

  ‘I’m glad she’s pleased,’ I said.

  ‘She did ask me to put one thing to you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘She has requested that you don’t feed the child yourself. How do you feel about that, Cissy?’

  How did I feel about it? It meant that I could go home as soon as the baby was born. ‘I don’t mind, Mother,’ I said.

  ‘That’s settled then. We will bind your breasts once you’ve had your baby and your milk will soon dry up.’

  ‘How long will it take for my milk to dry up, Mother?’

  ‘Two or three weeks, but it can vary.’

  ‘Is that all, Mother?’ I asked, standing up.

  ‘Do you have any worries, Cissy? Anything you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Well, I’m always here if you need me, as are the other nuns.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘The same applies to Rose. I know she is suffering. She comes across as a strong girl, but she doesn’t have to bear this pain alone. Let her know we are praying for her.’

  ‘I will, Mother.’

  That night Rose and I squashed up together in her little bed.

  ‘Do you have a dream, Cissy?’

  ‘What sort of dream?’

  ‘About the future.’

  ‘Sort of, but it’s not very exciting.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘To marry a boy
called Colm and live happily ever after in Paradise Alley. Like I said, not very exciting. Do you have a dream, then?’

  ‘Not one that’s ever going to come true.’

  ‘Tell me?’

  ‘I want to go to Rome and Venice and Florence.’

  All I knew about Rome was that His Holiness the Pope lived there. ‘To visit the Pope?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be so bloody daft! Why would I be wanting to visit the Pope?’

  ‘Why do you want to go there then?’

  ‘To see Michelangelo’s David and the ceiling in the Sistine Chapel and… Oh, I don’t know, just to be there and see those things.’

  I didn’t know what she was talking about and when I didn’t comment, she said, ‘Art, Cissy. Sculptures and paintings and stuff like that.’

  ‘Blimey, can you paint then?’

  ‘Not really, although my teacher at school said I had some talent. She told me about her travels and she let me borrow books. Rome looks wonderful, but like I said, I doubt I’ll ever get to see it.’

  ‘Never say never, my friend.’

  ‘It’s just a dream, I’ll probably go back and work with me mum in the knicker factory.’

  ‘Well, we all need knickers,’ I said.

  We lay there for a while not speaking and then Rose said, ‘Did you think they were nice, the young couple who took Jenny?’

  ‘They seemed very kind, Rose. I thought they had kind faces.’

  ‘They did, didn’t they? I miss her, Cissy. I can still feel the weight of her in my arms.’

  I held Rose’s hand. ‘Iggy said she’s there if you want to talk to her.’

  ‘What is there to talk about? She’s gone, talking’s not going to bring her back, is it?’

  ‘No, no, it’s not.’

  ‘Goodnight, Cissy.’

  ‘Goodnight, Rose.’

  As I lay beside Rose I thought about Colm and Ireland and all the people I’d left behind in Paradise Alley and I longed to see their faces and I longed to be in Colm’s arms. We continued to write to each other and that brought me some comfort but where Colm’s letters were simple and honest, mine were full of lies.