The Letter (26 page)

‘Coast is clear now. Quick, jump out and go round to the front door. When they ask how you got in just say you happened to arrive at the same time as the laundry van. Tell them you walked up the front drive, bold as brass, you did. They’ll never believe you, of course, but at least you’re in.’

William grabbed his rucksack and jumped down. He held out his hand to the driver. ‘Thanks a lot, buddy, I owe you one.’

The driver gripped his hand and winked. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for, so I do.’

William climbed the stone steps up to the heavy front door and noting the absence of a bell, rapped firmly with his knuckles. The wood was hard and unforgiving and he winced as he massaged his hand. He straightened his back and pulled himself up to his full height as the door opened.

‘Good afternoon,’ he began. ‘I was wondering if I might come in and have a word with the person in charge.’

The nun who had answered the door raised her eyebrows.

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘Well, no, but I’ve come…’

William was unable to finish his sentence as the door was abruptly slammed in his face. He stood there open-mouthed for a second before the blood began to course through his veins and he felt a sudden rush of anger. He clenched his fists and breathed deeply through his nose. Ignoring his sore hand, he rapped on the door again and continued to rap until it was once again opened by the same nun. Her forehead wrinkled as she raised her eyebrows. She glared at William.

‘How rude! As I was just saying, I would like to speak to the person in charge. I’ve come a long way and will not be leaving until I have seen somebody who can help me with my enquiry. So, if you don’t mind, could you please fetch someone in authority before I camp out on your doorstep. And don’t think I won’t. I’ve got a flask, cake and all the time in the world.’

Without a word, the nun began to close the door but William was too quick for her and he jammed his heavily booted foot in the doorway.

‘Take your foot out of the way!’ spat the nun.

‘Not a chance,’ replied William as he pushed past her and found himself standing in the hallway. He was immediately hit by the familiar smell of the soap used to clean the floors. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings and noticed a group of girls at the end of the corridor. They were all dressed in the same shapeless brown pinafore dresses and on their feet they wore what looked like old rags. William frowned, but then realised that these were actually cloths and as the girls shuffled round they were polishing the floor. One girl, with a shaven head, turned to face him. He noticed the huge swell of her belly and he looked away in embarrassment. She smiled coyly before being berated by a nun who was overseeing the group.

‘Bernadette, turn your eyes away, you disgusting little temptress. Have you not learnt anything? Look at the state of you. I fear for your soul, girl, I really do.’

William shuffled uncomfortably and turned to the nun who was still standing beside him. She had now closed the door behind him and William felt the full stifling atmosphere of the convent.

‘We don’t take kindly to intruders. Wait here, while I go and see Sister Benedicta.’

William bowed his head respectfully. ‘Thank you, ma’am, but I prefer to think of myself as a visitor rather than an intruder if it’s all the same.’

He waited patiently and watched as the group of girls shuffled off. The halls fell eerily quiet. William jumped at the sound of a voice.

‘How may I help you?’

William spun round to face Sister Benedicta. She was a tall woman, with a ruddy complexion and piercing blue eyes. Her mouth was already set into a grim line of determination and as William faced her, their eyes were level.

‘Good afternoon. My name is William Lane and you might say I have come home. I was born here.’

If Sister Benedicta was surprised by this statement she did not show it.

‘I repeat. How may I help you?’

William was taken aback. ‘Are you Sister Benedicta? Are you in charge here?’

She nodded her head slowly.

‘Indeed, I am.’

William pressed on. ‘Look, Sister Benedicta, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’ve just come to see if you can help me trace my mother. I know she was an inmate here…’

‘Resident,’ interrupted Sister Benedicta. ‘Not inmate, resident.’

William bowed his head. ‘Of course, I’m sorry. I know she was a resident here. I was born in April 1940. I assume you keep records, so any information you can give me would be greatly appreciated.’

Sister Benedicta’s lips eased into a sly smile. ‘Your naivety is breathtaking, Mr Lane. Come this way, would you?’

She turned on her heel and William followed in her wake as she took him to her office.

In the centre of the room was a large mahogany desk covered in stacks of paper of varying heights. On the wall was a plaque which read:

When lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin James 1:15

Sister Benedicta gestured towards the chair opposite her enormous desk and they both took their seats. She propped her elbows on the desk and leaned in towards William.

‘Tell me, Mr Lane. Do you love your parents?’

William was indignant. ‘Why, of course, more than anything!’

‘And they have given you a good home, have they not? Nurtured you?’

He began to feel uncomfortable. ‘That is not in question, nor is it the point. I have their full blessing in my search for my real mother.’

‘Your real mother is the woman who brought you up, the one who picked you up when you fell over, the one who comforted you in the night when you had had a bad dream, the one who…’

William held his hand up. ‘Point taken, Sister. What I mean is I have their full blessing in the search for my
birth
mother. Is that better?’

‘I don’t care for your tone, Mr Lane. I don’t think you appreciate the work we do here. All the girls that pass through this convent are fallen women, moral degenerates who have been shunned by society and rejected by their own family, to whom they have brought nothing but shame. We give them a home here, look after them throughout their pregnancy and then ensure that their babies are given to loving homes. We make certain that through hard work, their souls are cleansed. These girls know they will be damned to hell if they tell anyone they have had a baby, so I can assure you Mr Lane that no good can come of this search of yours and I suggest you leave right now and then get down on your bended knees and thank the good Lord that this convent had your best interests at heart when it placed you in such a kind and loving home.’

William felt like a naughty schoolboy sitting in the headmaster’s office, a feeling that intensified when he spotted the thin cane hanging on the wall behind Sister Benedicta. He wondered if this had ever been used on his own mother and he struggled to keep his rage under control.

‘Sister Benedicta, your work here is not in question and, of course, I am grateful for the upbringing I have had and I know this is thanks to you, but I spent the first three years of my life here. I even have flashbacks to my time here and to my mother, but I can never see her face. I feel as though a piece of my life is missing, and because of that I can’t find peace. What difference does it make to you, Sister? Please just give me any information you have about my mother and I’ll be on my way, I won’t bother you again.’

Sister Benedicta sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s like you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.’ She stood up and walked over to a large filing cabinet. Using a key which she wore on a chain round her neck, she unlocked it and pulled out a huge leather binder. She slammed the file down on the desk, causing a sheaf of papers to flutter to the floor.

‘What was your mother’s name?’

William’s heart gave a little leap of hope and his mouth was suddenly dry.

‘Bronagh Skinner.’

‘And you were born in 1940 you say?’

He nodded and rubbed his sweating palms down the length of his trousers.

Sister Benedicta flicked through the ledger for what seemed like an eternity. There were literally hundreds of names listed, and it gave William some comfort that he was not the only one in this position. Presently, she picked up her fountain pen and wrote down a number on a piece of paper. She stood up and heaved the ledger back into the filing cabinet. Then with an exaggerated movement, she locked it again and stared William in the eye as she hung the key round her neck.

‘Wait here,’ she commanded, as she left the room.

Fifteen minutes passed, and still there was no sign of Sister Benedicta. William stood up and paced the room. He went over to the window and stared out at the garden below. Several girls, all heavily pregnant, were digging over a vegetable patch as a nun watched on carefully. One girl stumbled and fell onto her knees. She seemed to have trouble standing again and another girl offered her arm to help her up. The presiding nun immediately interjected and pushed the two girls apart. William could not hear the conversation through the glass, but witnessed the girl who had stumbled cowering from the nun as she raised her hand. She did not hit her this time, but William was left in no doubt that this girl was used to being beaten. The door to the office opened again and he spun round.

A middle-aged woman in a nurse’s uniform looked at him in surprise.

‘Oh, I was looking for the Reverend Mother, Sister Benedicta.’

‘She’s just stepped out for a while. She’s gone to find some information for me.’

The nurse looked surprised. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘What is it Nurse?’ Sister Benedicta had returned, a thin brown file tucked under arm.

‘I need a word, Reverend Mother.’ She nodded towards William. ‘In private.’

Sister Benedicta did not hide her impatience. ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘Not really. It won’t take a minute.’

Sister Benedicta ushered the nurse out of the room and closed the door. Finding himself alone again, William was intrigued and pressed his ear to the closed door. Both women were talking in hushed, urgent tones but William could just make out the conversation.

‘It’s Collette, Reverend Mother. I’ve just delivered her, but she’s torn really badly. She desperately needs stitching.’

‘You know the rules, Nurse. No stitching. If she’s torn, then it is God’s will. She will atone for her sins. She should have thought about this before she got herself into this situation.’

‘Reverend Mother! You know she was raped.’

‘We only have her word for that. She’s a temptress, Nurse. She has brought this all on herself. Now stop wasting my time, I have business to attend to.’

William took two huge strides back into the middle of the room as he heard the door opening again, and adopted a casual air. Sister Benedicta frowned at him and pointed to the chair. ‘Sit.’

She took her place opposite him and opened the file. She placed her reading glasses on the end of her nose and began to leaf through the papers. William craned to see, but the desk was so wide it was impossible to make anything out other than the number of the file; 40/65. Eventually, Sister Benedicta found what she was looking for and pulled out a piece of yellowing notepaper.

‘See the signature at the bottom?’

William leaned across and caught a glimpse of a name, written in a rather child-like hand: Bronagh Skinner. He reached out to take the letter, but Sister Benedicta whipped it away before he could touch it. ‘Your mother signed away all rights to you the day you left this convent. You are never to have contact with her and she has vowed in this letter never to contact you, interfere with you or make any claim over you in the future. We will never divulge her whereabouts, Mr Lane, so I am afraid you have had a wasted journey. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’

Her dismissive tone left William in no doubt that this meeting was over and he felt stung by her intransigence. He stood up and heaved his rucksack onto his shoulder. He already detested this woman and found it difficult to speak.

‘I will be back, Sister. You can count on it.’

‘Like I said, you’re wasting your time.’

But she didn’t reckon on the stubbornness that defined William Lane. He had got the bit between his teeth now and nothing, especially not this vile woman, was going to keep him from finding his mother.

Chapter 29

When William found himself out on the narrow road again, the afternoon sun was growing weaker and the nip in the air reminded him that it was still only early April. He pulled his jumper back on and set off at a brisk, determined pace towards the bus stop. He covered the mile and a half in well under twenty minutes, such was his desperation to put as much distance between himself and that loathsome place. He was sweating again now, so he pulled off his jumper as he studied the bus timetable which was nailed to a post. The next bus wasn’t due for another fifty minutes. William groaned and slumped down on the grass verge. He suddenly felt incredibly drained, a combination of his altercation with the unbending Sister Benedicta and his lingering jet lag.

He made a pillow with his rucksack and lay back on the grass, welcoming the coolness of it against his perspiring skin. It seemed like he had been asleep for hours when he was suddenly aware of a ringing sound and then the sun disappeared and behind his eyelids, William felt the world become darker. He propped himself on his elbows and rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t a cloud that had blocked out the sun but a human being. Standing astride her bicycle, William could not make out her features, silhouetted as she was, but he knew it was a female from the ball of curly hair which surrounded her face.

‘
I hope I didn’t startle you. I rang my bell because you seemed out for the count.’

William struggled to his feet and it was only when he was level with her face that he recognised the nurse from the convent.

‘Not at all. I just thought I would grab forty winks while I waited for the bus. Gosh, I hope I haven’t missed it.’ He rolled up his sleeve and studied his watch. He had only been asleep ten minutes.

‘The bus comes at ten past the hour so you can wait here for the ten past five or you can come back with me to my house and then catch the ten past six. That’s the last one.’