Part 19 (1/2)

The children fell silent. After a moment that seemed to last forever, they all heard it, Peggy knocking on her wall three times for Sheila. Moments later, Maura's neighbours began trotting down her path, chatting to each other, their heads full of bobbing curlers, balancing babies on hips, with cigarettes half smoked in one hand and their babies' bottles in the other. Each one walked over to Maura and hugged her.

They had been waiting patiently for Maura to let them know when she was ready. Now, they couldn't keep the smiles off their faces. Maura had turned a corner and they were turning it with her. Every single one of them breathed a sigh of relief when the Nelson Street mops once more began knocking.

'Enough of that,' shouted Nana Kathleen from the sink where she was in the process of filling the kettle. 'There's tea to be drunk and who has brought the biscuits?'

'I have, Kathleen,' said Deirdre above the chatter. 'I have a bag of broken which I got from the tin, in Keenan's.'

'And I've brought a brack, I made one extra today,' said Sheila, taking her plate to the press. 'Shall I run and fetch Annie?'

'Do you know, that's not a bad idea, Sheila. Aye, 'tis is a grand idea. The more the merrier.'

And with that, Sheila was back out of the door and across the entry to fetch Annie, back to where the beating heart of the four streets traditionally rested. In Maura's kitchen.

As they settled round the table, the chatter was so loud, Kathleen would have to shout to be heard. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. It felt as though she had been holding her breath for months and, for the first time, she could relax.

Suddenly there was an unfamiliar, tinkling sound. Little Harry looked up from his book and, catching Nana Kathleen's eye, he smiled. It was the sound of Maura laughing. A sound they had all forgotten.

17.

AFTER HER MEETING with Sister Evangelista, Daisy walked down the convent steps with a confidence and self-a.s.surance that had been wholly absent during the time she had worked as the dead priest's housekeeper. Sister Evangelista had insisted that Daisy stay with them in the convent guest room, until her brother arrived to collect her. As she reached the bottom step, Daisy spotted Harriet rus.h.i.+ng down the Priory driveway.

'Morning, Daisy, love, isn't it a glorious day?' Harriet shouted across to her as she turned and almost ran down Nelson Street in the direction of Maura Doherty's house.

Daisy waved across the road and smiled. Although it was early, the river already s.h.i.+mmered in the bright sunlight. From years of observing how the river responded to the weather, Daisy could tell that today would be a scorcher. She liked Harriet. It was a very strange feeling seeing her run out of the house that had been Daisy's prison. She had arrived at the Priory as a young girl not knowing that it was the place where her childhood would be stolen.

Daisy had been nervous about her meeting with Sister Evangelista. Once she had finished her breakfast with Alison and the nuns, she had taken out Maggie's note and read it again. It told her exactly what she had to say and to whom she had to say it. This morning, it had been Sister Evangelista's turn.

Although the school was empty, with the children at home for the holidays, Sister Evangelista had been working in the school office.

'Morning, Daisy, come on in,' she said as she pulled out a chair next to her desk. 'I'm just preparing the lessons for next term as I want to visit Ireland myself. It is time I had a little break.'

Sister Evangelista had been alarmed to discover that whilst they had thought she was lost, Daisy had been held like a prisoner at the new convent near Galway. Sister Evangelista knew the Reverend Mother well, as Sister Theresa was related by blood to the bishop. Like the police, Sister Evangelista had plans to pay a visit to the convent personally and discover just what had been occurring.

She wanted to find out for herself who had told the police officer to take Daisy to St Vincent's and why. There were many hidden secrets still to be uncovered and she should know; she was probably hiding the very worst.

'Sister, I have something to say.' Daisy sounded very serious.

Sister Evangelista looked at Daisy, slightly amazed. This was the girl who would never say boo to a goose. Who would ever have thought it? Such a transformation.

Daisy continued, 'Sister, you and I, we found photographs in the priest's desk that were very bad.'

'Aye, we did, Daisy, but they are burnt now and that is all over.'

'Well, they weren't all burnt, Sister. There are some in the safe in the cellar and I don't think it is all over. If it was, I wouldn't have been taken to the convent, would I? There was a reason I was taken there-'

'What safe?' Sister Evangelista interrupted Daisy.

Sister Evangelista felt the return of a familiar feeling of panic that she was sure she would never shake off. Every night before she went to sleep, she often wondered: was this the effect of shock? Would she spend her remaining years looking over her shoulder, jumping each time a telephone rang or a door slammed? Her life until recently had been one of serenity and devotion. The most serious problem she ever had to tackle was a severe outbreak of nits at the school.

Since she had opened the desk drawer of the dead Father James and found it stuffed full of those disgusting photographs, nothing had been the same. As she closed her eyes at night, the images of schoolchildren once entrusted to her care swam before her eyes. It took prayers and tears to wash them away.

'The safe in the wall in the cellar,' Daisy said. 'Father James asked me to put a cardboard box of photographs in it. He kept them in there for a man called Arthur. He didn't like the dark, did Father James. At night he always liked the landing light to be left on. Down in the cellar, it is very dark, so he always sent me instead. I had the notion he was scared.

'There were some big flat round tins as well, with films in. Sometimes Arthur used to come to the Priory to collect them and sometimes he brought them to the father. Quite often, the two men who worked at the hospital came. You remember them, Sister, they came to the convent one night when the bishop sent them to collect me. 'But you know, Sister, it wasn't only Father James who was a bad man, it was the bishop too. I have to tell the police about that now. But I also have to tell them about the photographs in the desk drawer, the ones which you burnt.'

Sister Evangelista felt as though she were falling.

'No, Daisy,' she whispered. 'Do you realize what that would do? I am not fond of the bishop any more than you are, now, but he would be arrested and I might be as well. G.o.d only knows what would happen to the church and the school. Haven't I always taken care of you, Daisy? I think the best thing is if we keep all this to ourselves and make sure those two hospital porters get their come-uppance. But, please, keep it just between us about the bishop and Father James. Let us keep as our secret the photographs we found in the desk.'

'I can't, Sister.' Daisy's voice sounded stronger than she felt. 'I can't, because although you have been good to me since the father died and you are a good and kind Reverend Mother, you haven't always done the right thing. For years I was stuck in that Priory with Father James doing to me the same things you saw in the photographs, and the bishop too. And you want me to keep that just between us? I can't do that, Sister. I can't. I have to tell the police everything. That's what Maggie told me I had to do.'

Shocked, Sister Evangelista was unable to speak. Her life had been sent out of control with her future spinning away from her.

'I will also give the police the key to the cellar safe. I took it with me, because Father James told me to never let anyone have it and to always keep it hidden when he wasn't around. Maggie told me, that now that he is dead, I don't have to do that any more.'

'Who is this Maggie?' Sister Evangelista almost screamed the words.

'She is the person who looked after me and smuggled me out of the St Vincent's convent and got me back home. She told me I was no more simple than she was, Sister. Maggie said I only couldn't speak very well because no one ever spoke to me and I thought I was simple because everyone told me I was. Maggie said, if people didn't use their brains and keep their wits about them, everyone would be simple. Maggie told me, no one should keep secrets with the devil himself. If we don't tell the police, Reverend Mother, that is what we would be doing. That's not the right thing, is it? You should meet Maggie. You would really, really like her.'

With that, Daisy stood up and, with her head held high, she walked out of Sister Evangelista's office.

18.

'IS HE STILL sleeping?' Mrs McGuire leant across and whispered to Mary.

She was sitting next to her daughter in the back seat of a taxi, travelling from the airport to Galway. The bags piled between them were now full of wet terry-towelling nappies and everything a baby could possibly need on a journey from Chicago to Galway.

Alice travelled in a cab following on with the remainder of the bags.

A large carrycot was wedged into the front seat and was also full of baby accessories. As she spoke, Mrs McGuire craned over the pile of bags to take a peep at the baby lying on her daughter's lap. He had slept for almost the entire journey.

Having had a blood transfusion before they left for Ireland, the sickly boy had transformed into a jolly pink bundle of joy.

'Aye, he is, but not for long, I reckon. He will have me awake all night now,' an exhausted Mary replied.

With a sigh, she gently ran her thumb across the latest dark bruise to appear on his leg. The gesture alone spoke volumes.

'Look, Mammy, he's dying in my lap. This bruise, it tells me so.'

Mrs McGuire pushed a bag aside and slipped her arm round her daughter's shoulders, her own gesture of concern encompa.s.sing both her daughter and her baby.

Mrs Mcguire was delighted they were returning home, even though, given the circ.u.mstances, that feeling had to be wrong. This made her feel guilty, which was the default position for every self-respecting Roman Catholic.