Daughter of Mine (29 page)

‘Now.’ he said, when he’d finished stitching and dressing the wound, ‘someone must stay with her night and day until she regains consciousness. When she does, phone me, I will need to test for brain damage. If she shows signs she is going to lose the baby, conscious or not, again send for me.

‘Once conscious she will need bed rest for a week, more maybe. In fact, I’ll tell you when she can get up. Her bottom teeth were loosened by the blow to her
jaw, but they’ll probably bed back in the gum and so nourishing broths will probably be best at first.’

‘It was no blow,’ Sister Jude said. ‘It was…’

‘It was a blow, Sister. She wouldn’t have sustained an injury like that smacking it on the table, and from the shape of the wound I would say a toecap did it.’

‘I assure you…’

‘I’m a medical man, Sister,’ Doctor Murray said. ‘I’ve attended accidents before and seen the result of a kick. And if she then banged the back of head on the floor, she’d have had to turn a somersault before she fell. Quite a feat, don’t you think?’

‘I think your manner offensive.’

‘My manner, you say? I feel what happened to that young woman was offensive. Be careful, Sister. I’m not one of your wayward girls to be cowed and frightened half to death, and once through that door a few words dropped in the right ears would mean, at the very least, you’d have to answer very difficult questions.’

‘Really, Doctor…’

‘Really, Sister,’ Doctor Murray cut in. ‘I’ve stitched and dressed both wounds, they won’t need touching yet awhile, and though I’ve left more salve she shouldn’t need it again until tomorrow and I will administer it myself when I call. I’ll see myself out. Good day to you.’

Sister Jude sat back in her chair, stunned. For the first time in her life that she could remember, she was lost for words. Completely nonplussed. Damn the girl, she thought. And damn the doctor too. But she didn’t give voice to these thoughts.

Muzzy unformed memories swirled in Lizzie’s brain, as if they were shrouded in grey mist. She was aware of pain and discomfort, and her eyes felt heavy when she tried to lift the lids, but when she eventually peeled them open she snapped them shut again at the glaring whiteness of everything.

Slowly she again opened them just a little and gazed about her. She knew she was in the infirmary and wondered why. The slight movement had been spotted, and the next moment a shape loomed above her. As her eyes focused, she recognised Sister Benedict. ‘So, you’re awake at last.’

Lizzie felt she had to make no reply to that comment, so she asked instead, ‘What happened?’

‘You had a wee fall.’

‘A wee fall!’ Lizzie repeated. She tried to cast her mind back, despite her head throbbing in protest.

‘How are you feeling?’

Never in the months she’d been in the convent had a nun asked her how she was feeling. It gave Lizzie quite a jolt. And, really, how did she feel? Awful! Bloody
awful! Everywhere ached, even her face and her jawbone and her head thumped. Should she say? Would the nun care? She decided to say nothing about how she felt, but again she asked, ‘The fall, where was it?’

‘In the sacristy.’

The sacristy! That word produced a window through the fog. The sacristy and her and Celia, their arms full of vestments going in there, thinking it empty and finding Father Conroy still there.

And at the remembrance of the priest, Lizzie’s skin began to crawl, for the memories now crowded inside her. She remembered being forced to hold the throbbing penis of that perverted excuse for a man of God, and then her head being pressed down so that her mouth, held open, would take it between her lips. And if I had, she thought now fiercely, I’d have bitten the bloody thing off and taken pleasure in it.

She wanted to fling this at the nun looking at her now in consternation, tell her the manner of priest they served and sought to please, but Celia’s warning to say nothing stilled her tongue. But, by Christ, why should he get away with it?

Nevertheless, she knew he would, like the pervert who raped her. She lifted her hand and tentatively touched her jaw and felt the dressing there, and then her probing hands touched the bandage encircling her head.

‘You caught your chin on the desk as you fell and then gave your head quite a crack,’ the nun said.

Lizzie remembered the priest’s red face suffused with rage as she vomited all over him. She didn’t see the boot, but she’d felt the crack of impact that set her
against the wall with such violence she lost consciousness. ‘A fall,’ she repeated ironically. ‘Is that the name they put upon it these days?’

She saw Sister Benedict’s face flush. Was it embarrassment, or shame, or guilt? She wasn’t sure, nor was she sure how much the nuns were aware of. She might never know, but it wouldn’t matter really because she knew they’d stick to their story, and if she was to voice hers and continue to voice it she’d be speedily whipped away to a place where no one would listen. Who would take notice of the ramblings of a mad woman incarcerated in the asylum?

And so she met the nun’s look levelly, but said nothing. And the nun said, with a hint of satisfaction, ‘Some of your hair had to be shaved for the doctor to stitch the cut. You will have to explain to your brother.’

‘The doctor? They called the doctor?’

‘Oh aye,’ Sister Benedict said, and gave a sniff of disapproval and went on, ‘He was very worried about you. Gave specific instructions. You have been in that unconscious state over thirty-six hours, for it’s Monday morning now.’

‘Monday morning?’ Lizzie wondered if her mind was affected. She seemed only able to repeat what the nun said.

And now Sister Benedict bobbed her head and went on. ‘Aye, thirty-six hours. The man himself will be along shortly. Glad to see you so recovered, I imagine. Now, do you want a nice bowl of nourishing broth?’

‘Nourishing broth?’ There she went again, but nourishing broth was not on the menu for the sinful inmates of that place. She wasn’t hungry, and yet it might be
a while before anything else was offered, and she’d like to see their bowl of nourishing broth.

But when it came, on a tray carried by Celia, which made Lizzie’s eyes light up, it was thick and rich and filled with meat and vegetables. ‘Leave the tray and return to your duties,’ Sister Benedict said curtly, and to Lizzie she said, ‘You’ll be all right on your own? I need to pop along to the nursery.’

‘Aye,’ Lizzie said, but barely had the door closed behind the nun when Celia, putting the bowl of broth down on the locker beside Lizzie, said, ‘What did that bastard do to you?’

And Lizzie told her, just as it was, and noted that Celia didn’t seem even mildly surprised.

‘You too?’ she asked, and Celia nodded miserably.

‘It happened three times to me.’

‘Oh, Celia!’

‘I never thought of vomiting over him, though.’

‘I couldn’t help that.’

‘He very nearly killed you,’ Celia said. ‘I heard the doctor giving out to Sister Jude when I was clearing the hall outside the room. We were all hugging ourselves with delight, though I was real worried about you.’

‘I’m all right,’ Lizzie assured her. ‘Though a bit sore still, and I’m not at all hungry, so you eat that broth.’

She saw the longing on Celia’s face and yet she shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Course you can, I don’t want it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive, and eat it quick before the old harridan comes back.’

Celia needed no further urging and Lizzie smiled at the look of pleasure on Celia’s face as she emptied the bowl in seconds. ‘Oh God, I’m full for the first time in months and warm inside. Oh, Lizzie, thanks. That was terrific.’

‘Good,’ Lizzie said with satisfaction. ‘Leave the tray, or they’ll know you stopped too long.’

‘You’re right,’ Celia said. ‘But I’ll be back if I can. Most of the girls know we’re friends, so they’ll let me come if there is ever a choice in it.’

‘Well, go now in case Sister Benedict comes,’ Lizzie said, ‘for if she imagines we are friends I’ll never see you in here again, and she’ll find ways of making our lives more miserable than ever.’

Celia saw the wisdom of Lizzie’s words and she hadn’t been gone that long when Sister Benedict came back and was pleased to see the bowl empty. ‘Soon have you strong and healthy again,’ she said, ‘with food like that. Now, I’ll let the doctor in. He arrived some minutes ago.’

Lizzie had never seen Doctor Murray before, though she’d glimpsed him through the gloom when he’d come in to attend to Cora. She found him kind and gentle, and he asked her questions and held up cards for her to describe and looked into her eyes with a special instrument. He was able to say with a smile that there was no sign of any brain damage. Sister Benedict left them alone in the end and the doctor, as he examined her physical condition, asked, ‘How did this happen?’

‘Did they not tell you? I had a fall.’

‘They told me,’ the doctor said grimly. ‘Now I want you to tell me who kicked you in the face?’

‘No one kicked me…’

‘Give me some credit.’

‘Then give me some consideration,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘What you want me to say could sign my death warrant, or as near as in this place. My friend said normal rules don’t apply here and she’s so bloody right. Until I’m well away, from here, with the stink of it washed from my body, I’ll tell not a soul about what happened in that sacristy. I fell, and we’ll leave it so.’

The doctor, though shocked by Lizzie’s outburst, was perturbed enough to protest. ‘No one should get away with kicking you.’

‘Ah God,’ Lizzie said with feeling. ‘If that was all it was! Look, Doctor, I know the townfolk think of us as whores and harlots inside this place, but I’ll tell you how I came to be here and I’m not the only one by any means.’

And Doctor Murray listened to a tale so horrifying he might have doubted it if he hadn’t seen the pain reflected in Lizzie’s eyes as she repeated and relived it. He imagined her panic as she realised she was pregnant, and could even see her parents’ desire to hide her away someplace till it was over; but this place…God, the whole ethos of it sickened him.

If there was the slightest doubt lingering, that was dispelled when he saw the scar running down Lizzie’s abdomen as he gently examined her there too. ‘Any pains?’

‘Plenty, but not labour pains,’ Lizzie said. Funny that although she’d wanted to get rid of the baby for so long, now she wanted the child to live, to have a crack at life. ‘My dearest wish now,’ Lizzie said, ‘is for
my baby to go to a good and loving home and have the chance of a happy life.’

‘You’ll leave it here with the nuns then?’ the doctor asked.

‘There is no alternative,’ Lizzie answered. ‘How could I take to a child born of a brutal rape, and even if I could, how could I do that to my husband, expect him to raise a bastard child. He might think I was playing fast and loose while he was away fighting. This is best for the child, for everyone. The nuns will keep it in the nursery and it will go to a Catholic and childless couple.’ She gave a small sigh and went on, ‘They probably have parents lined up already.’

The doctor, looking at Lizzie’s wistful face, thought it might not be as easy as she thought to give up her child, but there was nothing to be gained by going down that route, so he said instead, ‘And then what?’

‘Then I go back to Birmingham.’

‘And take up your life again?’

‘Aye. What would you have me do?’

The doctor shook his head helplessly. He had no answers, he just felt bad that such a young woman should have to shoulder the anguish and stress all by herself, especially when she was totally blameless.

However, anything he might have said was cut off by the entrance of the nun. ‘The teeth are bedding down nicely,’ he told her, ‘so from tomorrow, she can have something more solid than broth. Good red meat, cheese, eggs and milk should build her up. And she should have about ten days’ bed rest. I’ll be in Thursday of next week to remove the stitches, and by then she should be able to get up.’

‘Yes, Doctor.’

‘There is no sign of her going into labour prematurely either,’ he said, ‘and she would have done by now, I think, so that is at least one problem we haven’t to deal with.’

‘No, Doctor,’ Sister Benedict said, and she led the doctor out of the infirmary. Lizzie leant back and shut her eyes.

For ten days, Lizzie languished in bed, even glad of the altar cloths she was brought to embroider, for time hung heavy. Celia came most times with her tray and shared Lizzie’s food if they were left alone long enough. They also shared many confidences and fears about the future and grew closer than ever, and Lizzie was worried over what would happen to Celia when she went away with Johnnie. A plan began to formulate in her mind, but for it to succeed she needed the help of the doctor and her brother.

Johnnie was expected on Saturday, but first the doctor would come to remove her stitches, and once that was done she would be back in the fray. As soon as Sister Benedict left the room, Lizzie, knowing she’d probably not have the opportunity to speak to the doctor alone again, told him that when she left she wanted to smuggle another girl called Celia out with her.

He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears. ‘D’you know what you’re risking, for the girl at least?’

‘D’you know what the alternative is?’ Lizzie snapped back. ‘You’re not stupid. You know the set-up here.’

‘But…Oh, God Almighty,’ the doctor cried in
horror, for he couldn’t see how this planned escape could be achieved. ‘What will you do if the nuns get wind of it?’ he asked. ‘If they should catch you?’

‘Then we may as well be dead,’ Lizzie said. ‘But I’m prepared to risk it.’

‘What about the other girl, this Celia?’

‘Listen, Doctor,’ Lizzie said earnestly. ‘If Celia doesn’t get out soon, you might be called back here in a short while to declare the girl clinically insane and have her committed to an asylum. She really is that close to the edge, and there is no hope that any family member will ever come for her. They have totally disowned her, every one of them. It is as if she never existed.’

‘That’s appalling!’

‘In the real world it may be,’ Lizzie said. ‘Here it is surprisingly common. Look, I once said that I’ll not talk about what goes on here until I’m well away from it, and I won’t go back on that, but you must believe me that this place is Hell on earth. All the girls suffer and I am sorry for them, desperately sorry, but I can’t smuggle them all out; and Celia…well, she’s my friend. I feel sort of responsible for her and I am seriously worried that she will go under if I don’t do something.’

The doctor still hesitated and Lizzie said impatiently, ‘We haven’t much time. Sister Benedict could be back at any moment and it’s not even going to involve you. I’m only asking that whenever the child is born you give some excuse that I’m not ready to leave until it coincides with the laundry van that comes on Friday. I know my brother would find a Friday easier than a Tuesday, and the van comes at about half past ten.’

‘And if I refuse?’

‘Then you’re not the man I took you to be, and I’ll bid you good day and hope you sleep easy in your bed tonight,’ Lizzie replied testily.

The doctor laughed, but checked his mirth lest the nuns heard. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Lizzie, you have a way with you. But have you thought I might have nothing to do with your baby’s birth? It isn’t their normal procedure to contact the doctor.’

‘They’ll call you if you say they must,’ Lizzie said emphatically. ‘They’re scared stiff of you. Celia heard what you said the time you wiped the floor with Sister Jude and their reaction afterwards. It gave the girls some lighter moments even thinking of it.’

‘So, if I go and lay the law down and say I must be called for the birth, then I will be.’

‘Aye, I’d say so, and I’ll feel happier too.’

‘Then, madam, it shall be done,’ the doctor said with a mock salute, but despite his bantering manner he was a worried man. Lizzie had coerced a promise from him, and if the whole plan should go wrong then God help those two young women. He didn’t know the full extent of the horrors of that place, but what he had seen reflected in Lizzie’s eyes and the fall that was no fall at all told him enough.