do that? ‘That must be really rough on her. And so unfair.’
No wonder Ruth acted so cold and angry towards everyone. And no wonder so many of the girls seemed in dread of her. I decided that in future when I saw her frown, I’d climb a tree first and find out what the matter was afterwards.
Frances watched me with an amused, tolerant expression. ‘To keep yourself out of trouble, Judith, I’d act the silent sort for the next few days. Copy everything we do. And don’t speak to a nun unless it’s to answer a question.’
We marched along the dimly lit corridor. The girls broke up into several groups, and Frances gestured for me to follow her. Ten of us trooped down a winding stone staircase to the basement, where passages twisted and turned like a rabbit’s burrow. Ruth was in our group, I noticed with a tightening of my stomach; I decided to keep quiet, as Frances had suggested.
We entered a small room with an arched stone ceiling. It was dark and narrow, with green-tiled walls cold to the touch, and smelt of damp and shoe polish. The air in the room chilled me. I shivered and wanted to yawn. The single light bulb had a faint green tinge. It cast the room into shadow, as if it were partially underwater.
Along each wall rows and rows of black boots peeped out of arched pigeonholes. What was this place? I was still looking about me when the girls sprawled together on the dusty, torn sacks spread across the floor and began polishing the boots like professional shoe-shiners. The noise of their chatter filled the room. I side-spied Frances who frowned at me, jerking her head at the pigeonholes.
I slowly pulled out a pair of boots and tried to imitate the others, fumbling as I chose polish and a brush from the wooden box in the corner. Don’t ask why we’re doing this. Don’t say a word. I brushed inexpertly at the heavy black boot, frowning in concentration. Soon I had black polish all over my hands and frock.
Amid the swishing noise of the shoe brushes, Frances said to me, ‘We come here every evening to polish the nuns’ boots, and this is where we tell our secrets.’
I looked up eagerly, relieved to be getting a second chance. ‘Secrets? What sort of secrets?’
‘Like Frances is Sister Mary’s pet,’ said Ruth patting Frances on the shoulder and winking at her.
‘No, I’m not,’ said Frances, her face reddening. ‘Go on, Ruth, tell the new girl about that time you caught Sister Helen making big waves in the what’s-it.’
‘Oh, hell’s bells, that story’s so stale you could shave the whiskers off it,’ said Ruth.
‘Go on,’ said Frances, ‘I want to hear it again.’
Ruth shrugged, brush-brushing rhythmically as she spoke. ‘Hell, it wasn’t my fault that I caught her reigning on the throne. How was I to know she was in there? I just barged in to find her making a sacrifice to the what’s-it god with a wad of Bronco bunched in her hand.’
There was a burst of laughter. ‘Oh my God!’ I clasped my hands over my mouth.
‘That’s just what she said. The sight of her set my underwear creeping up on me like it had legs.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Janet.
‘You’d have thought I had the runs or me arse was on fire, I was in such a rush to get away. I really reckoned I was a goner.’
‘Why?’ I asked before I thought.
A shadow fell over her face. ‘Oh, I’m not shovelling all that on to you. You’re still green. Best to stay that way for as long as you can. You’ll find out soon enough about the nuns. Some of them aren’t exactly sane as biscuits.’
‘Tell her what happened next,’ said Frances.
‘Well, I went on running everywhere to avoid her. Eventually I bumped into her in the corridor. She spread out her arms to stop me like someone who wants to stop a bull charging at them. I was putrified. She put her hand on my shoulder and I thought she was about to lose her rag with me, but all she said was, “I’m afraid nature called me on the hop and I
No wonder Ruth acted so cold and angry towards everyone. And no wonder so many of the girls seemed in dread of her. I decided that in future when I saw her frown, I’d climb a tree first and find out what the matter was afterwards.
Frances watched me with an amused, tolerant expression. ‘To keep yourself out of trouble, Judith, I’d act the silent sort for the next few days. Copy everything we do. And don’t speak to a nun unless it’s to answer a question.’
We marched along the dimly lit corridor. The girls broke up into several groups, and Frances gestured for me to follow her. Ten of us trooped down a winding stone staircase to the basement, where passages twisted and turned like a rabbit’s burrow. Ruth was in our group, I noticed with a tightening of my stomach; I decided to keep quiet, as Frances had suggested.
We entered a small room with an arched stone ceiling. It was dark and narrow, with green-tiled walls cold to the touch, and smelt of damp and shoe polish. The air in the room chilled me. I shivered and wanted to yawn. The single light bulb had a faint green tinge. It cast the room into shadow, as if it were partially underwater.
Along each wall rows and rows of black boots peeped out of arched pigeonholes. What was this place? I was still looking about me when the girls sprawled together on the dusty, torn sacks spread across the floor and began polishing the boots like professional shoe-shiners. The noise of their chatter filled the room. I side-spied Frances who frowned at me, jerking her head at the pigeonholes.
I slowly pulled out a pair of boots and tried to imitate the others, fumbling as I chose polish and a brush from the wooden box in the corner. Don’t ask why we’re doing this. Don’t say a word. I brushed inexpertly at the heavy black boot, frowning in concentration. Soon I had black polish all over my hands and frock.
Amid the swishing noise of the shoe brushes, Frances said to me, ‘We come here every evening to polish the nuns’ boots, and this is where we tell our secrets.’
I looked up eagerly, relieved to be getting a second chance. ‘Secrets? What sort of secrets?’
‘Like Frances is Sister Mary’s pet,’ said Ruth patting Frances on the shoulder and winking at her.
‘No, I’m not,’ said Frances, her face reddening. ‘Go on, Ruth, tell the new girl about that time you caught Sister Helen making big waves in the what’s-it.’
‘Oh, hell’s bells, that story’s so stale you could shave the whiskers off it,’ said Ruth.
‘Go on,’ said Frances, ‘I want to hear it again.’
Ruth shrugged, brush-brushing rhythmically as she spoke. ‘Hell, it wasn’t my fault that I caught her reigning on the throne. How was I to know she was in there? I just barged in to find her making a sacrifice to the what’s-it god with a wad of Bronco bunched in her hand.’
There was a burst of laughter. ‘Oh my God!’ I clasped my hands over my mouth.
‘That’s just what she said. The sight of her set my underwear creeping up on me like it had legs.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Janet.
‘You’d have thought I had the runs or me arse was on fire, I was in such a rush to get away. I really reckoned I was a goner.’
‘Why?’ I asked before I thought.
A shadow fell over her face. ‘Oh, I’m not shovelling all that on to you. You’re still green. Best to stay that way for as long as you can. You’ll find out soon enough about the nuns. Some of them aren’t exactly sane as biscuits.’
‘Tell her what happened next,’ said Frances.
‘Well, I went on running everywhere to avoid her. Eventually I bumped into her in the corridor. She spread out her arms to stop me like someone who wants to stop a bull charging at them. I was putrified. She put her hand on my shoulder and I thought she was about to lose her rag with me, but all she said was, “I’m afraid nature called me on the hop and I
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