It went 'Ping!' and then the children began to sing.
Millie found this half hour soothing. When a bell rang the singing immediately stopped; and there were more prayers. At twelve o'clock the class was dismissed, and there followed a rush for the toilets and ablutions. Ten minutes were allowed for this.
Dinner consisted of pea soup, which Millie found quite nice - she could taste there had been some kind of pork boiled in liquid -
followed
a meat pudding. There was quite a good helping of pudding but only a tiny piece of meat.
However, with the two medium-sized potatoes and a spoonful of carrots, she found this also quite to her liking.
After dinner, they were all marched out to the back garden, which was similar to the front, where they could walk about or play catch ball, but were not
allowed to stand and talk to each other.
School restarted at one o'clock, with more prayers.
These went on for fifteen minutes, again under the hard gaze of Sister Mary. But at a quarter past one Sister Benedicta took over. She taught geography, but it seemed that there was only one country in the world and that was Ireland. Nevertheless, she had a quiet voice, and Millie could put up with her. She was later informed by Annabel that she was known as Body Smell because she had to empty the slops into the cesspit. They did that for their sins, she said, a kind of penance.
But it seemed that Sister Benedicta must sin a lot because she always seemed to get the dirty jobs.
It should transpire that twice a week those who cared could learn to cook; but apparently Millie herself was to be given no choice; she was sent, with another five girls, to the kitchen at three o'clock and, there, came under the influence of Sister Cecilia, to whom God had given a nice nature and a light pair of hands with pastry. It was the time spent with this from making her escape from this prayer-ridden, ignorant set of women, from which Mother Francis must be excluded. As Sister Cecilia was to say to her, one could live without reading, writing, or arithmetic, sewing, singing or geography; and yes
- there would be a twinkle in her eye - with some, even without the good God; but one couldn't live without food and without those who knew how to make it appetising to the tongue.
After her first visit to Millie, Aggie returned home somewhat perplexed, and she said to Ben, 'I don't know quite what to make of her. She hates the place. As far as I can understand she's made only one friend; but that would be enough if it's a good 'un. But there's a sister there called Mary she would like to strangle. She said so. And you know something? She showed me the marks on the back of her knuckles and her wrist where that bitch had walloped her with a rod of some sort, right from the first day.'
'Well, why don't you bring her home? You'll find some place different from that. That was your friend's recommendation, wasn't it?'
'Don't forget it was yours an' all. Now don't forget that.'
'Aye. Yes, you're right. But it shouldn't be allowed, the hammerin'.'
'Oh, but I had to laugh, or nearly so, for you daren't laugh in there. There was a sister watching us all the time, and when we went to walk out into the garden she said it wasn't allowed. "Well, whoever told you it isn't allowed, tell them to come and tell me," I said, and I took the child outside. It was there she told me about this sister and showed me her hand. "Don't worry, Mrs Aggie," she said; "I'll get me own back on her before I leave this place, you'll see, if it's only kicking her shins." And she will an' all, she'll do
it.'
Ben started to laugh now. 'You know, you can't believe she's the same child that was so polite a couple of years ago. She got on your nerves then, didn't she? Remember when she used to stand there and madden you with her politeness and that voice of hers. She's still got the voice but the politeness has slipped away a bit.'...
... Almost at that very moment Millie was standing before the Mother Superior, who was voicing that very word, politeness. 'You have been impolite to Sister Mary because she chastised you for taking your visitor out into the garden. She also tells me that you are unruly. What you must learn, child, is obedience. We must all learn obedience, obedience to God's will. And it should happen that it's God's will that you have been sent to us for protection and education. So, don't let me, ever again, hear that you have been impolite to any of the sisters. And, don't, don't' - she held up her hand, her voice holding a note of authority now - 'give me your opinion of the matter. And that's another thing you must learn: you should speak only when you're spoken to, unless you wish to make a serious request. You may go.'
Millie's visit to the sanctum was the first of many during the weeks and months that were to follow, and all resulting from Sister Mary's reports. There was an open war going on between the child and the nun, and the class was aware of it and daily seemed to await events. In the main, it was a time of misery which unknowingly strengthened her character and at the same time introduced her to a friendship which resulted in her opening her eyes to another way of life, a life that she recognised and knew she could fit into; for it was during the first summer holiday that she was invited to spend a day with Annabel at her home.
Annabel had talked so much to her parents about the beautiful girl with the long golden hair, and how she had openly stood up to Sister Mary, that it was decided to invite this child to have tea with the family. Annabel's father was the manager of Crane Boulder's Cotton Mill. It was considered one of the advanced mills, advanced in that their employees worked only the ten-hour day and finished work at one o'clock on a Saturday. So it should happen that Mr Kirkley was at home when the guests arrived and was able to add to his surprise and not a little amazement when his daughter's friend was delivered at his door by Raggie Aggie, for Aggie had long been a known character, she and her handcart, and now the pony-driven flat-cart; and of course the fact that she was almost as broad as it was.
He recalled tales about her, that she had at one time belonged to a respectable family of farmers; unbelievable now, for she could certainly no longer be placed in that category.
Something would have to be done about this. He had imagined the nuns to be very particular whom they took into their house as pupils. However, before the visit ended the husband and wife both admitted
to being charmed with Annabel's friend, and that they could understand their daughter's feelings towards her, for the girl was not only as beautiful as Annabel had described her, but also she had the most pleasing and cultured voice. They had understood from their daughter that her parents were dead. But why, they asked of each other, should a child like that be under the care of the rag woman? Kirkley thought it was something worth looking into.
He did, and when he eventually learned that the child's mother had committed suicide and that out of compassion the rag woman had taken her into her house to save her being put in the workhouse or farmed out, again they both agreed that the rag woman had worthy motives. And so, during the holiday, Millie was again invited to tea, and on this visit she amused them, together with their other children, a twelve-year old son, and a five-year old daughter, when she gave them an imitation of the nuns, excelling herself when she touched on Sister Mary.
It was Annabel's friendship and her acceptance by the Kirkley family that really kept her in the House of Christ the Saviour, where there was no laughter except in the kitchen with Sister Cecilia and sometimes a covert smile from Sister Aloysius.
Her stay, however, ended dramatically on the last Friday of January, 1858.
It was a biting cold morning. The water in the basins had a layer of ice on them, which had to be broken before the children could wash; then, in the dining room they sat shivering, for the fire at the end of the room did not take even the chill away.
In the classroom, Sister Mary's indiscriminate wielding of the ruler caused a great deal of wincing and tears. The children had been told to write answers to what happened to Jesus in the temple: What did He do there? and what did His parents say to Him when they found Him?
For Millie, the lesson needed no thinking, for the sister had practically told them what to say, but she wove a story round it as if the incident were happening in Benton Fields at the present time.
Unfortunately she made a mistake of naming the church where Jesus was found as St George's, which happened to be a Church of England edifice.
After the monitor had gathered up the papers and placed them on the small, square, wooden table that acted as the sister's desk, the class sat quiet, waiting anxiously for the verdict, a tick or a large cross, the while automatically mumbling Hail Marys. At no time in the day must there be an idle moment or a silent one; any spare time must be filled with prayer.
The sharp sound of Sister Mary's hand banging down on the square of writing paper stopped the chanting. She was yelling now, 'Stupid! Stupid! A waste of good paper. Come out here, you!'
If the finger had not been pointed, all the class would have known who was being called to face the fearsome sister, and when Millie stood by the side of the nun's desk, the sheet of paper was immediately
thrust into her face with the demand, 'What do you mean by that? A waste of paper! A waste of good paper. Rubbish! Rubbish! Trying to be clever. Rubbish!
And that hair.' The woman flicked her hand and knocked one of the long plaits from Millie's shoulder as she continued her tirade: 'I've told you, haven't I? I told you yesterday, one plait and at the back, and tight. Stand still, girl! Turn round!'
And without giving Millie time to obey, she yelled again, 'Turn round! Turn round! girl,' and swung her round by the shoulders, and while holding her with one hand she ripped the pieces of tape from the end of each plait, before she tore at the hair until it hung in uneven strands; then she almost lifted Millie from the floor as, using both hands now, she drew the strands together and began forming them into a tight rope-like plait.
This done, she whipped up a piece of tape, which she tied some inches from the bottom; then, while still holding on to the hair with one hand, her other hand shot out and pulled open a drawer from which she grabbed a pair of large scissors.
There was a gasp from the children and a high scream from Millie as the scissors went snip, snip, snip. Flinging herself round and seeing at least three inches of her hair lying on the wooden floor, she yelled, 'How dare you! How dare you!' And now she did what she had promised herself she would do, and lifted her foot and aimed it at the nun's shin. That
. it had made contact was evident, for Sister Mary let out a cry, a weird sound that was rather a yell not a scream. Then again she was grabbing the plait, screeching now, 'I'll cut it off. Right to the scalp.
Right to the scalp. You're wicked! Bad."
Some of the children were screaming as they watched the tussle going on between the nun and the girl whom they. secretly admired and envied because she wasn't afraid of the dreaded Sister Mary.
'You're evil. Evil. You want shriving.' The nun had hold of the plait again, while endeavouring amid her screaming to bring her other hand, holding the scissors, down to finish its work. But Millie, her body twisted, her two arms extended, was gripping the woman's wrists while being tossed to and fro in the struggle, and she, too, was screaming, 'You won't! You won't!'
Whether it was Millie's infuriated strength that caused the woman's grasp on the scissors to slacken, or that she changed her tactics and meant to direct the scissors towards the child's face, couldn't be known, but Millie grabbed at the open blades and, managing to twist them round, consciously or by accident drove one of the blades into the nun's arm.
As the scream rent the room the door was thrust open and Sister Monica and Sister Aloysius rushed in, just in time to stop the nun's hands going round Millie's throat.
The room was in an uproar, the children huddled together and all screaming. The big nun's arms were flailing while the other two attempted to hold her.
It was Sister Aloysius who turned her head and cried to one of the bigger girls,
'Go and fetch
Reverend Mother! Take the children. Take them with you. Out! Out!'
All the children, except Millie, scrambled from the room: she had staggered over to a side wall and was
leaning against it, her hands hanging by her side, her mouth wide open to let her gasping breath free.
'I'll kill her! I will. I will. She should be dead. She's wicked! Wicked.' The nun was screaming now at the top of her voice; then for a moment she became still and silent as she looked at a trickle of blood flowing down over her fingers; and she now screeched again.
'Look! Blood! Blood! She's evil.'
'Quiet. Quiet, dear.' Sister Aloysius was wiping the hand now with a piece of rough linen she had taken from a pocket in her habit. 'It's all right.
Mother will soon be here. Be quiet now. Be quiet.'
'Never! Never! She must be locked up. She's bad, wicked. And her hair shorn. I'm going to shear her hair. I am; I am. She was born evil. Father Dolan told Reverend Mother all about her, all about her.
She's from the dregs. Her mother was on the streets.
I heard him. She took her life ... evil. I spoke to God. Two inches at a time, He said, until she is cropped; the vanity is in her hair. Pride, all in her hair. It's got to come off.' And as her voice ended on another high scream the door opened and the Mother Superior came in. Her voice was calm as she said to Sisters Monica and Aloysius.
'Leave go of her.'
'But, Mother.'
She turned her cold stare on Sister Monica, saying,
'Do as I bid.'
They did as they were ordered, and when the arms began to flail again Mother Francis brought her hand in a resounding blow across Sister Mary's face, sending her backwards against the wall, where she stood, quiet now, her mouth agape and froth around her lips. Stepping back and looking at the other two nuns, the Mother Superior said, 'Take her to her cell.'
Almost as if leading a child, they took the woman from the room, and the Mother Superior, herself on the point of leaving, turned and looked towards where Millie was still standing riveted to the spot. It was as if she hadn't been aware of the girl's presence, but she said, 'Stay where you are, child. Don't move,'
and then went out.
How long Millie stood alone, she didn't know.
There was a continuous whirling of thoughts in her head: Was she evil? Had her mother been evil? What did she mean, her mother had been on the streets?
She had heard that term before. It was in some way connected with bad things. But had her mother been evil? And so, was she evil? She wanted Mrs Aggie.
Oh, Mrs Aggie, Mrs Aggie.
When the door opened and Sister Cecilia came in, still wearing her kitchen apron, the whirling thoughts ceased and she said, 'Oh, Sister.'
Sister Cecilia held out a hand towards her, saying,
'Come child, come,' then led her out of the room, through the corridor, upstairs, and into her cubicle.
She did not immediately help her to get her things together, but sat on the side of the bed and drew Millie towards her, saying, 'It's a sorry day, child.
It's a sorry day;' then leaning towards her, she said very quietly now, 'I'm not blaming you, my dear.
I'm not blaming you. It is a strange thing, and you will find it more so in our way of life, that some people cannot stand the sight of beauty. It is a joy they're missing, but it is never revealed to them.
Poor dear Sister Mary has never known joy. You must forgive her.'
The nun looked away from Millie now and towards the partition as she said in a voice little above a mutter, 'He bids us come, and if at first we don't obey Him, His voice is insistent. "Come. Come, my child. You owe me your life," He says. "Let Me show you how to live it," but then once you have given Him your life He becomes distant; you have to struggle to touch Him. Yet He said to me,
"Cecilia, you have two blessings, you love beauty and cooking. What more could you desire?"'
Turning to look at Millie again, she ended, 'But one always wants more: just to see
His face in the night, not in plaster, in the flesh. But I tell myself it will come. God's will be done.'
She put out a hand and touched Millie's cheek now, saying softly, 'I ramble on, child. You don't understand what I'm saying, yet some of my words might remain with you, for I think you are old enough to understand what I am about to say to you now. Resist evil, my dear, the evil that men do. Do you understand me? Resist the evil that men do.'
Millie didn't really understand. Her mind still wanted to whirl, but she would remember the words, 'Resist the evil that men do.' And on the thought there came into her mind the picture of the thin-faced man.
'Well now, child; let us pack up your things and let us be ready when your guardian comes. She is being sent for.'
'I... I to go home?' She slipped off the edge of the bed as if she had been injected with new life.
'Yes. Yes, my dear, you have to go. And I am very sorry, because you have the makings of a splendid cook. You won't forget what I have taught you, will you?'
forget, ever. Nor you.'
As she went to put her arms around the nun a gentle hand pressed her back, and the voice, so gentle, said, 'I ... I understand your feelings, child; and I, too, feel ... but ... but,' and the voice became rather thick as she ended, 'we will not demonstrate them.'
After the bass hamper that had held her belongings was refilled and strapped, Sister Cecilia said, 'Sit there quiet, my child, until they send for you.'
She paused, and her fingers lightly touched Millie's cheek, as she said, 'My prayers will go with you and
I shall remember you always.'
'Oh, Sister, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I... I mean...
well, I mean, I'm not sorry to leave the school, leave here, but I'm sorry to leave you, and I wish I could
see you again. I... I won't be able to, will I?'
'No, my child, you won't; but you will always remain in my memory. And you will remember my words, won't you? Beware of the evil that men do.'
The Rag Nymph Page 9
