“I hope it’s not stolen goods you’ll be selling. The church would look ill on that,” Sister Margaret said, and there was a sternness to her voice which told the girls that she was very serious.
“No, we have a stash of old coin we found. Oh, I have one of them here.” Precipice fished out a denarius that she had in one of her pockets and held it out to the sister.
“Oh, this looks very old. It’s worth something, is it?”
“We already sold some for two hundred Euro each. They be Roman and made of good silver,” Clara piped up.
“Well, God be praised, and you’ve found a very worthy cause for such a windfall. Wherever did you find such a thing?”
“In the sewers,” Clara answered.
“Well, it be good that something has washed down to some of the people who live there. Heaven knows there are far too many families who live beneath the city.”
Clara and Precipice could only nod in agreement, they weren’t the only ones who had found refuge in the Dublin sewers.
“Sister, just a thought, would the church be interested in taking some of these coins in trade?” Precipice asked. “They are silver, and they’re worth a bit. It would save us the time of selling them if we could do this by trade.”
“Oh.” Sister Margaret was obviously taken by surprise with the question. “Well, possibly we could. I’ll have to speak to the Oblate priest, the one who will do the service, Father Nowak will be presiding. Perhaps I’ll speak to some of the Dublin Jesuits too, they look after local church treasures, they might know if this can be done.”
“Father Nowak? That’s a strange name,” Clara commented.
“He’s from Poland, a very kind man, and very devote. He helps make the arrangements when the poor pass in the Dublin area, and often does the services for nothing.”
“Poland be in Europe, ain’t it?”
“Isn’t it,” Precipice corrected. “The sister will think us ignorant the way you talk, Clara.”
The sister rubbed her chin. “Have you girls much schooling?”
Precipice and Clara looked at each other, and then down to the ground. “None for the last two years,” Precipice answered.
“There’s a small school that we run near here with Crosscare, do you know who they are?”
“Aye, they run some of the shelters,” Precipice answered, there had been times when they’d gone there for food, and a dry place to sleep on rainy nights.
“We run a few classes for some of the local people, and for some of the children who live on the streets too. They come to learn when they can. You would be welcome if you want to attend.”
Precipice and Clara looked at each other again, blinking in surprise.
“Something to think on,” Precipice offered.
“Perhaps I can show you some of the building where the classes are held, it’s at a youth centre. Along the way we can think about what to put on your grandmother’s gravestone. I have a bit of time, no appointments for a few hours, so I can drive you out to view some of the available grave plots too if you like. Most people from the city go to rest in Glasnevin cemetery, or some to Palmerston.”
“Palmerston is a fair ways from here, so is Glasnevin, isn’t there any church yards in the city where Old Straw can rest?” Precipice inquired.
“I’m afraid not, the Dublin city council forbade churchyard burials in Dublin many years ago. There’s only the five cemeteries to choose from in the area now. There are a few places at Goldenbridge cemetery though. That’s a bit closer in.”
“That’s just on the other side of the brewery, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s a little ways further out than that, maybe two kilometers from the Guinness Brewery, but it is closer than any of the others. I’d be happy to take you out there to have a look. It’s a very pleasant resting place.”
“We could still go visit Old Straw when she’s there,” Clara commented.
“Old Straw, you’ve called her that twice now. That’s an odd name for your grandmother, dear.”
Clara squirmed a little. “She weren’t really our grandmother. She were more a friend. We just told them that at the hospital so that they would let us stay near her, and so that we could visit,” the young girl admitted.
“Well, I think this is all the more worthy then. Surely God is shining down on the two of you. We’ll see if we can find a patch of sunlight for your friend to rest in. We can have a quick look at the youth centre first if you like, the car is parked near there.”
The two girls nodded, and allowed Sister Margaret to usher them out of her hospital office. However, as they were leaving, Precipice looked back, wondering where the mirror from which they had entered the room might lie. The only mirror like surface she could see was the shiny metal cross sitting on a filing cabinet near the far wall. Surely, that was too small? Precipice left in confusion.
Chapter 10: Goldenbridge
The girls spent another two hours with the sister, first being shown parts of the youth centre. Precipice and Clara watched for a few moments from the back of one class where some older teens were being taught how to cook for themselves, and another where some twenty somethings were learning senior school math, so that they could finish their high school, Sister Margaret explained.
“Really, two girls as young as you should be in care,” Sister Margaret commented as they exited the Crosscare centre toward her car. Precipice halted when she said that. “No need to worry, dear. We deal with the homeless in my order, I would never force anyone into a situation they would just run away from, but it’s something you and your sister should think about. The two of you could live under a roof and be relatively safe with a good, warm meal every night.”
“They’d separate us,” Clara replied. “They said they’d have too.”
The sister slowly nodded, somewhat sadly. “They do try to keep families together, but it’s not always possible, it’s especially hard when there’s so many years between siblings.”
As they drove to Goldenbridge cemetery, something occurred to Precipice. “Didn’t something bad happen at Goldenbridge? I remember something from the news.”
Sister Margaret frowned. “Something shameful happened in that area, though not at the graveyard. There used to be a workhouse there, it was actually called St Vincent’s Industrial School, but people call it Goldenbridge. It was where young homeless children like yourselves were taken to be cared for. Only the care was not very good. There was abuse. Even worse, it was sisters of my own order who oversaw the place.”
“Sisters of Mercy?” Clara asked.
“Why, yes,” the sister answered. “That’s very perceptive of you to recognise my habit. Have you known sisters from my order before?
“Uh huh, they used to teach me at school. They were okay, they were nice.”
“Yes, well, the ones at Goldenbridge didn’t do a very good job. I’ve never met any of them, of course, I was a sister at the Mater for many years, I’m retired from being a nurse now, but I’m on some of the cemetery boards and I help look after funeral arrangements for the poor of the community. Oh, and I’m also part of Mecpaths, do you know what that is?”
“No,” the girls answered.
“Well, it’s a part of our penance, really, I guess. For the ills of the past inflicted by the Order of Mercy, many of us now try and look after children who are in danger of being trafficked. It’s our way of trying to repair the past.”
“Trafficked? Like driving a car? Lucky we don’t have a car,” Clara puzzled.
“No, no, the trafficking of children is when they’re taken away to do things they don’t want. They’re stolen, really.”
“Like Southside does,” Precipice murmured.
Sister Margaret looked at Precipice. “Aye, like Southside does. We try to protect children from people like that, if we can.”
Precipice turned to stare straight ahead from where she sat in the shotgun seat, trying to ignore where the conversation had led.
; “We have protection,” Clara volunteered.
“Oh, from the likes of Southside?”
“Yeah, we have swords, and a wraith friend, and we have magic…”
“Clara, that’s enough,” Precipice spat out at her sister.
Sister Margaret’s eyes went back and forth from Precipice to the road, but she bit her lip, deciding not to say any more.
After a few moments, she slowed down outside a high stone wall and parked the car.
“This is it.”
They entered the cemetery without conversation. The girls followed Sister Margaret who directed them to five options before they finally decided on a small piece of Earth between the roots of an ancient Yew tree.
“It’s like the roots of the tree will keep her in their arms,” Precipice observed.
“Aye, like the arms of God,” Clara replied.
“Because of the Yew roots it’s only a shallow spot, so shallow that no one has claimed the soil, but as you say, her body will lie cradled by one of God’s great creations. This Yew tree is hundreds of years old. No doubt it has seen many strange and wonderful things in its lifetime.” Old Sister Margaret knew the right words to say.
“It’s a done deal then. You’ll check the price of the old Roman coin with the church, and we’ll pay in trade to bury Old Straw here.” Precipice licked her hand and then held it out to the old sister. Sister Margaret in turn licked her hand and then shook Precipice’.
“It’s a done deal,” the nun agreed. “Let me take a picture of the coin you have with my cell phone so that I can show a few people, then I’ll meet you again in two days, here, beneath the Yew tree.”
Precipice pulled out the coin and held it in her open palm while Sister Margaret took her pictures, a couple for each side.
“There. We’re set,” the older woman smiled. “I’ll see you in two days then, Sunday that will be. After mass, at midday, say. I should be free by then and have enough time to get here. Do you want a ride back somewhere?”
The two girls stood there beneath the Yew tree, Clara looking to her sister.
“No, we’re fine,” Precipice replied. “We can find our way from here.”
Chapter 11: The Scene
As Sister Margaret walked back to her car, Clara became confused.
“Where are we, Precipice? I’ve never been to this part of Dublin. How do we find our way back?”
“Yeah, you have, you’ve just forgotten.”
“I haven’t been here,” Clara hotly denied. “I’d know if I’d been here.” She crossed her arms.
Precipice’ eyebrows knit together in consideration. “Maybe it looks a bit different from here, come this way and you’ll see.” Precipice walked her sister along the circular footpath at the centre of the cemetery.”
Then as the scenery changed, it came to Clara. “I don’t want to go there, Precipice.”
“You remember now?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to go there.”
“We don’t have to, but maybe another time. Let’s go home now, it’s a long walk from here.”
The two girls made their way from the cemetery exit, but were surprised to see that Sister Margaret’s car was still where she had parked it, though the small elderly woman was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Sister Margaret? I thought she would have left by now,” Clara commented.
“Me too, but maybe she’s having a smoko or something.”
Then they heard the voices, agitated voices, around the corner from the cemetery entrance, in the gateway of a local primary school, closed for the evening. It was Sister Margaret and three thugs. Precipice sorted the situation as she walked toward the group, who hadn’t noticed her and Clara. The older guy with tats on his arms farthest from them, standing back from the other three, was a drug dealer, probably from Southside as this was their turf. Closer was some young, hyped up druggie who was talking back to Sister Margaret, the third was another druggie, but his eyes were glazed, he was high as a kite. Sister Margaret had probably told them off for doing a drug deal in front of the school, but it wasn’t going well.
As they approached, the hyped up youth slapped the old sister across the face.
“Hey, leave off the nun!” Precipice called out.
“Mind your own business,” the youth yelled back, but Precipice quickened her pace. Without even realising it, she had drawn one of her knives. Precipice was a good foot and a half smaller than the gangly lad her eyes were set on. As she approached, her blade still concealed, he pushed Sister Margaret aside and took a step forward against the determined gothic girl.
“Don’t kill them, Precipice,” Clara called to her sister, but Precipice already had a plan of attack.
Clara’s words raised the eyebrows of the three men though.
“Back off…” the young one who had hit Sister Margaret called as he squared off against the petite teen, pulling a knife of his own.
He never got another syllable out. Precipice launched, at him, or past him. Moving so fast that the three men only saw a blur of movement, she slid to the guy’s side, slashing into his knee so that the pain caused him to drop his knife and grab at his leg. Then she was behind him, her knife slid upwards, behind the belt at his back, next she turned the knife and sliced the guy’s belt in two, sending his oversized rapper pants to the ground.
Moving almost as quickly as her sister, Clara collected the young guy’s knife, holding it like she knew how to use it… which she did.
“Time for you guys to leave,” Precipice snarled at the three thugs, as the embarrassed youth collected his pants while straining against the pain Precipice had inflicted on his knee. “And you should never come back here again.”
The older guy stepped forward and took a swing at Precipice’ head, which she easily ducked. Moving as fast as she could, Clara attacked the guy, ripping his shirt and jacket to shreds with the knife she had picked up, while leaving barely a scratch. When she was done, she stood back, little more than a few feet from the guy, crunched to the ground holding the knife threateningly with the grimmest face she could muster. It was enough, it was more than enough, the three thugs saw two demons, they turned, and ran.
Sister Margaret and the two girls watched as the hoodlums raced away down the street.
“Are you alright?” Precipice asked the sister. Sister Margaret had cowered to the side as everything had transpired, she had taken a sharp blow to the head, and a welt and bruise were already rising on her cheek. Precipice put a caring hand on the sister’s shoulder, and started leading her back to the car.
“I just asked them to leave the school,” the old nun said. “Why couldn’t they just leave? Young children go there. They don’t need to see that sort of thing.”
“It’s alright, Sister,” Clara tried to comfort the old nun. “They’ve gone now.”
“He hit me, I can’t believe he hit me. He broke my glasses.” It was true, they were a broken mess back in front of the schoolyard. At Precipice’ nod, Clara quickly ran back to collect what was left of them.
“It’s alright, Sister,” Precipice repeated her sister’s words. “Look, we’ll sit down back here, there’s a bench just inside the gate.”
Precipice lead the sister back just inside the cemetery, to a stone bench where she could settle the battered old lady.
“Here’s your glasses, Sister,” Clara offered. Well, what was left of them.
“Thank you, Clara.” The sister put the broken specs in a case, and back in her purse. “I should have been more careful, but the habit and cross are often protections in such situations. Christ looks after us. I misread things though, I’m lucky you were here.”
“Is there someone we can phone, Sister?” Precipice suggested. “You’re not in a state to drive, you’re still shaking, you’re in shock, and your glasses are broken. Someone should maybe look at that eye, too.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll phone someone from the convent. Thank you girls, you saved me, it may have gone so much
worse if you hadn’t… if you hadn’t…” Memories circled in the old nuns head. “You, you… how did you do that? You were both so fast, and they were so much bigger than you. There were three of them and you’re just two small girls. They ran from you.”
Clara, who had sat herself on the other side of Sister Margaret, put her hand on the sister’s sleeve. “We have magic, Sister, I told you that.”
Chapter 12: The Weapons Rack
Two of the Sisters of Mercy came to pick up Sister Margaret, one to drive her car, while Sister Bertrude drove the two girls and Sister Margaret to the city.
“This is good for us, Sister, anywhere along here will do.”
Bertrude pulled the car into a parking spot on the curb. “Thanks for looking after Meg, girls, God go with you,” the middle aged sister offered as the two girls exited on O’Connel Street.
Precipice and Clara walked on a bit, toward the side street that led to the souterrain.
“Will Sister Margaret be okay, Precipice?”
“I think so, Clara.”
“Will she still meet us? We need to help Old Straw.”
“It’s two days from now. We’ll see.”
The girls made their way back to their underground home, following the way to the alley and then down through the sewer.
“A lot has happened in the last day or so. Are you alright, Clara?” Precipice asked as they made their way in the caverns toward the hidden doors that guarded their home.
“I don’t like adventures, Precipice,” she replied, and then a moment later, “but I’m glad we helped Sister Margaret, I like her."
Precipice smiled. “Yeah, she’s alright. You handled that knife well, too. How about you open the doors?”
Clara smiled, they were at the doors, and calling her magic, she opened the first lock.
“The one thing we need to talk about is not telling everyone about our magic.”
Clara hesitated at the second door, but only for a second. “It wasn’t just me, we told Southside, too. Those three men will remember what they saw.”
The Lasts and the Hall of Mirrors Page 4
