Steal My Sunshine Part 14

Sister Ignatius opens the door, and by the look on her face, I know something has happened. *It's Bernadette,' she says. Jo. I get up and walk into the corridor, my eyes adjusting to the light. *Her baby was born still this morning. She's asked for you.'

I nod gratefully but I don't understand what she means until I see Jo lying flat with her eyes fixed on the ceiling and her belly no longer taut and round. Born still.

Jo's baby, the most wanted baby, will never sleep in the drawer or grow fat on chips. Someone, tell me what to say to my friend.

Jo turns her head to me and holds my hand but she almost doesn't look like Jo any more.

*Why did it happen?' I ask Sister.

Sister only stares hard at Jo, but another voice says, *You mustn't blame yourself, Audrey.' It's the new midwife, the one they say is kind and will give you a pill for the pain. I can't make sense of what she's said a" do I blame myself? Why should I? But when Jo puts her hands lightly on her belly, I see it in a blur a" on my back, struggling under the hands, my feet kicking in all directions, and Jo clutching her belly and disappearing out of view.

*I did this?' I ask the midwife. *I kicked her? Was it me? Tell me!'

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

Jo pulls me down close to her face. *It wasn't you, dear little Essie,' she whispers. *It was me and Dad. Unholy is why.'

*Your dad? What did he do?'

*Sshh,' she says. *Secret.' She lets go of me and stares at the ceiling again, and at last I know what she means.

At night I dream that my belly splits open and a shrieking beast is placed in my arms, wild with hair and teeth and writhing limbs. For once I'm glad when Sister wakes us, and all through morning ch.o.r.es I think about what I can do for Jo. There's only one thing I can do a" give her my baby. The minute I decide that, I feel cleaner and more awake than I've felt in weeks. I'll do this one good thing and then I'll finally be able to go home.

There's a commotion at the laundry window after breakfast a" lots of girls are gathered there and Sister Ignatius is just watching them, which is the strangest part. She looks back at me and beckons me over.

Jo is out there, held on either side by nurses who lift her up when her legs give way under her, and she twists and turns between them.

*Where's Jo going? Sister, where are they taking her?'

I hear some of the girls whisper *asylum'.

I fall to my knees and hold Sister's fingers and beg and cry because I don't care if they lock me away again. The asylum is the place we dare not speak of in here. *Not that place! Not Jo! Please, Sister. Why? Why? She's done nothing wrong!'

*Get up, Audrey. Get up unless you want to follow her.'

The other girls are silent. The only sound is the hiss of steam. I feel myself dying again, and Audrey gets up in my place. She's quiet and sorry and goes back to work. Later on, the Chinese whispers make it back to me. Jo broke down and told the midwife about who the father was. But either they didn't believe her and thought she'd gone mad, or they did believe her and didn't know what else to do with her.

Whatever happens, I will never forgive myself, or them, for this.

I'm in the dorm when it finally happens. My back has been killing me all day, and when I s.h.i.+ft on my bunk, trying to get comfortable, there's a sudden rush between my legs. I scream and get to my feet, tearing off the blankets to see the waters spreading into the mattress. All I can think about is that I have to clean up this mess before Sister sees. I cry as two Sisters lead me away and tell me not to mind about it. The pains are coming but they're nothing compared to the fear.

When Sister sees me she tuts and shakes her head, but she's smiling. *Always have to be the centre of attention, Audrey.'

They make me sit on a commode and give me a new gown to change into. I hear Matron tell Sister it'll be fast. I think that sounds good, but somehow I'm now even more terrified.

*Help me,' I cry out.

*Now, Audrey,' Sister says, *a brave girl like you doesn't need any more help to atone for her sins.' Then she leaves so it's only me and Matron and another, younger sister I've only seen before in chapel.

The waves of pain come faster now and I want to tear myself away from this bed to escape them.

*Lie still. Knees up, Audrey.'

I want to ask Matron to help me but I can't seem to find the words. She cools my head with a wet flannel and says I'm doing well.

*Is it nearly over?'

She gives me a pitying smile and wrings out the flannel. I cry and cry. The pain gets worse. The young Sister sternly tells me to control myself but I can't stop screaming. They say, *Think of the baby, think of the innocent baby', but all I can picture is Mother's face as she opened the door on us, all those months ago and thousands of miles away.

I'm evil. I must be. Time has stood still but the pain is never-ending. My guts are bearing down as if great big hands are reaching in to turn me inside out. I try to get up but I'm held down on both sides, and then a new pain comes that is lower and sharper and Matron yells at me to push. *Try again, Audrey. Deep breath. Try harder this time.'

I breathe and push and scream as the hands press me down. Something is killing me from the inside, tearing my body apart.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

I'm being ripped apart. There's a tiny cry and I want to cover my ears but the hands are still holding me down. I squirm and raise my head towards one of them.

*Let me go. I've done it. Let me go.'

All I can see is blood a" endless blood a" before the room goes dark.

*Here, Audrey. Drink this.' Matron helps me sit up and hands me a cup of tea. I can't remember the last time I had a cup of tea.

*Am I dead?' I say.

*You did well.' She smiles.

I think I drink the tea but the room is spinning, and soon it feels like I'm waking up all over again, a second later, but this time Matron is handing me something different a" something wrapped up. *Are you with us, Audrey?' she says. *Ten minutes on each side and then I'll come back. Do you know what to do?'

I nod and hold the bundle, trying to stop myself from shaking. When she leaves, I catch a glimpse of auburn hair against the crook of my arm, but then I look straight ahead and my eyes fill up. I don't move a muscle.

In no time Matron is back and my arms are empty again. She tells me I won't have to do that for very long because Sister already has someone in mind. I think, what won't I have to do? I didn't do anything.

As she's walking away with the bundle, I can feel panic rising within me but I don't know exactly what I'm anxious about. It's there but it's out of reach. I lie down stiffly, trying to remember what I'm doing in this place.

In my sleep I remember. That baby is mine. It knows me and I know it and n.o.body else can be part of that. It? Boy, girl a" in my dream the baby is neither or both because they didn't tell me. We'll go away from here. We'll escape.

Sister wakes me.

*Did you bring the baby?' I say. I look around for the bundle and the auburn hair. I want to smell its head and look at its fingers and toes.

*Now listen, Audrey. You need to put that out of your head. That baby is not yours. She'll go to a mother who can provide her with love and stability and high moral values.'

*Did you say "her"?'

*A girl. Yes.'

My smile turns Sister's face dark and stern. *If there is trouble, Audrey, you know where you'll end up.'

If only she meant h.e.l.l a" I'm not scared of that. But she means the asylum.

It's a furnace in here. I'm back on the mangle. Keeping busy stops me from thinking about the things I can't change. I can do these sheets and I can get through the days. I can stand up straight and I can keep myself out of trouble. I suppose it doesn't sound like much but that's all I can do.

In a faraway part of me I've called her Connie. But Sister is right, it's better for her not to know me. Besides, she's leaving soon. A new family. People with a home and jobs and grandparents and cousins and a whole life. Who am I? I don't even exist here. I'm an English ghost and I've got nothing for her. I've seen other girls break their hearts over it, but not me. She was never mine, like Sister says.

This morning I'm next to Margaret, a new arrival who hasn't stopped crying since she got here.

*What did you do?' I say. *Did they catch you with a boy?'

She shakes her head. *Never been with a boy.'

*What then?'

*I'm in moral danger.'

Margaret looks at me wide-eyed, as if the danger might jump out on her at any second. This morning they dragged her mattress out into the yard because she'd soiled it.

I smile at her the way Jo used to smile at me, but all morning she cries. I try not to mind but it's getting to me. Soon it feels like the crying is inside me, creeping up the muscles in my back, flowing down my arms as they work the mangle, reaching inside my head. The crying is everywhere.

*Please, Margaret, stop now. It'll be all right.'

She only cries harder. And the more she does, the harder the mangle feels and the wearier I become. I can't go on.

*I'm begging you, Margaret. Stop crying!' I let go of the sheet and squeeze my eyes shut. Please, someone, stop the noise.

I'm grabbed by the arm, and when I open my eyes, a Sister is angrily pointing to every station in the room because I've spoiled the rhythm. I can't hear her voice. Margaret has gone from the room but her crying is still ringing in my ears.

Connie's gone; it's over. They didn't come to tell me, but Teresa has been promoted to waiting on Sister and she happened to listen to a telephone call. The couple is called Watson. The baby will be Something Watson, not Connie. Maybe Jane like my mother, or Sara like my old friend, or Charlotte like my middle name. Or more likely, a name that has nothing to do with me at all. It doesn't matter, she's a stranger, and I'm just a ghost with no flesh or form.

Tonight I lie awake, my body flat and tortured like I've been fed through a mangle with the sheets. If I don't do something soon I think I'll fade into this place a" become one of a hundred moving objects. I try to remember my old life but the images are slippery. I walk through our front door in London; my mother is dressed in a wimple and stands beneath a huge crucifix; I walk into my bedroom to find James in my bed with his wife and they laugh at me. I go to school but no one can see me.

England is a dreamscape. I'm losing myself. I have to do something to change these endless days. I need to be Essie again.

At chapel the next morning I pa.s.s the word to Agnes on my right. *Strike.'

She pa.s.ses it on. Some girls look scared, some pretend they haven't heard. Others look at me and I know they're with me. They're girls I've never spoken to, but the look in their eyes is the same as the way I feel; we might as well be blood-related.

I think of Pop at the dinner table talking about the unions. He was torn about it. Mother would berate him for being weak. But he talked about the rights of all men and, no matter how much she tried to bully him, he wouldn't budge. On that, at least, he had a voice. And I'll have mine.

The bell rings in the laundry and some girls start to work. If I don't act now I'll lose my nerve. I make the sign of the cross and sit down on the spot. For a moment it looks like I'm alone, but then Agnes sits, then Joan, Lea, Bridget. Next to me, Margaret's legs are shaking and I grab her and pull her down to me. I keep hold of her hand.

It's difficult to see how many of us are sitting, but the noises of the laundry are fading and the Sisters have noticed. They walk over to one group and pull them up by their arms, but even when they're on their feet, the girls won't move or speak.

Sister Calista, one of the kinder ones, comes over to me. Margaret is shaking and I hold her close. *Audrey, no good can come of this.'

I let go of Margaret and stand. *I am not Audrey. I am Essie Carver and this is an official strike.' I can't look her in the eye but at least I get the words out. G.o.d help me.

They lock the door. The heat creeps in and I begin to see the details of this test I'm putting everyone through instead of the big picture. My throat is dry and all our bellies are empty. It's hot beyond belief and we're tired beyond comprehension before it's even begun. What kind of force are we?

Girls look at me for answers and I get to my feet. *We have nothing anyway,' I say. *Look at us. We've got nothing to lose. If we don't try we might as well be dead.'

Margaret cries, *I don't want to die.'

*Shut up, Margaret,' I snap. *No one is going to die.'

In the morning, Sister Ignatius opens the door. Most of us are just waking up from a fitful sleep on the concrete floor. Sister comes to me and makes me stand.

*Make them bear their guilt, O G.o.d; let them fall by their own counsels; because of the abundance of their transgressions cast them out, for they have rebelled against you.' She turns to the room. *Those of you who set to work now will be given breakfast as usual. Those of you who do not will suffer the same fate as Audrey.'

The room doesn't breathe. Does she mean the asylum this time? Every girl looks at me and then looks away.

*Start the machine,' I whisper to Margaret.

As I'm led from the room, I see the Sisters pick up girls like fallen dominoes and set them in their places again.

In Sister's office, I have this feeling that no time has pa.s.sed between the first time I was here and now. Even when I look at her desk, I see my old clothes, starched and folded. And something else a" a ba.s.sinet.

*Was any baby given up twice?' Sister says. *She was brought back this morning. Our G.o.d works in mysterious ways.'

She hands me my clothes. On the top is an envelope which reads *Doc.u.ments for Ms Essie Carver'.

*Where am I going?'

*Your mother has sent for you. Everything is arranged. The s.h.i.+p leaves in one week.'

*But . . .' I look at the basket and whisper, *I can't. I never thought . . .'

Sister's smile is chilling a" no less sinister than her bite. *The Lord has chosen this lesson for you. Neither you nor I shall challenge it.'

While I change into my old clothes, the baby starts to cry a" loud and insistent. I freeze and look at Sister.

*Don't spoil her. Now, listen to me very carefully . . .' And while I dress and try not to look at the basket, I'm given my one and only lesson: Keep to a strict routine.

Sixteen hours of sleep.

Bathe her every day.

Regular sponging in hot weather.

No tea or candy or meat gravies.

Don't pick her up if she's well, even if she's crying.

Check safety pins.