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Authors: Claire Lorrimer
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recalled seeing a nun – two nuns. The room, bare of anything but necessities, was unfamiliar, as was everything around her.
She called for Bessie, who she knew would explain things to her – why she was here and what they were doing in this strange place, but no Bessie answered her call. Instead, the tall, thin nun came into the room and stood by the bedside.
‘Please, can you tell me where I am?’ Harriet asked. ‘And could you kindly call Bessie for me?’
Ignoring Harriet’s request, the nun came closer to the bed. ‘You may call me Sister Mary Frances,’ she announced. ‘I am in charge of the infirmary in our Convent of the Sacred Heart, and you are very fortunate indeed to have been found and brought here. Sister Brigitte has remained at your bedside every night for the past three weeks. We have all been praying for your recovery if such was God’s will. Frankly, we thought He was going to take you, but Doctor told us there was a chance you would come out of the coma you were in.’
She turned to pick up a note book from the bedside table. ‘If you feel well enough, perhaps you would kindly answer a few questions. That …’ she pointed to Harriet’s dress hanging on a hook on one of the walls, ‘… that …’ she repeated in a tone of disgust, ‘… is the only garment you were wearing when you were found, other than your cloak.’
She stared down at Harriet, her eyes steely as she continued, ‘We reached the conclusion that you had probably been thrown out of one of your customer’s houses for not carrying out the ungodly duties for which you were being paid; that they beat you over the head to punish you. Young women like you,’ she added scornfully, ‘must know the risks you take when you decide to ply your trade on the streets. You will consider yourself fortunate, I imagine, to be rid of your poor, innocent baby?’
Unable to make sense of what Sister Mary Frances was saying, Harriet stared up at her. Was this a dream, she asked herself before saying, ‘What baby? I have no baby!’
‘No, young woman, you miscarried the unfortunate child that was in your womb.’
‘You mean I have had another miscarriage?’ Harriet said faintly, now sure that she must be dreaming.
‘Yes, a miscarriage!’ Sister Mary Frances said scathingly. ‘Did it not once occur to you, when you plied your disgusting trade, that you might endanger the innocent life of your unborn child? You truly deserve whatever punishments God chooses to mete out to you, young woman …’
Harriet stopped listening. There was only one conscious thought in her mind – not that this nun seemed to think she was a harlot but that she’d had a miscarriage and must, therefore, have been pregnant when she left home despite her certainty that this had not been the case. When
had
she left home? Why? Where was Brook …?
Her mind came to a halt as a fresh set of anxieties beset her. She remembered now that she and Bessie had been on their way to Ireland – to stay with Una. If she had known for certain that she was once more carrying Brook’s child, she would never have risked a fourth miscarriage – not when both she and Brook had begun to wonder if they would ever have a live son or daughter. It was not even that her figure had changed or that she had noticeably put on weight.
If it was true that she had had an early miscarriage, she must never tell Brook. He would be angry that she had risked losing yet another baby by journeying so far. She closed her eyes, but the nun’s sharp questioning fought through her desire not to listen.
‘Who are you? What is your name? Who is this Bessie you called for so often? Do you not know who fathered your child? Why else were you trying to get money? Was the man not willing to have the finger pointed at him? I want some answers, young woman. You are here because we are sworn to Pity and Charity, but it tries me that with our limited resources we must be charitable to wicked young women
She called for Bessie, who she knew would explain things to her – why she was here and what they were doing in this strange place, but no Bessie answered her call. Instead, the tall, thin nun came into the room and stood by the bedside.
‘Please, can you tell me where I am?’ Harriet asked. ‘And could you kindly call Bessie for me?’
Ignoring Harriet’s request, the nun came closer to the bed. ‘You may call me Sister Mary Frances,’ she announced. ‘I am in charge of the infirmary in our Convent of the Sacred Heart, and you are very fortunate indeed to have been found and brought here. Sister Brigitte has remained at your bedside every night for the past three weeks. We have all been praying for your recovery if such was God’s will. Frankly, we thought He was going to take you, but Doctor told us there was a chance you would come out of the coma you were in.’
She turned to pick up a note book from the bedside table. ‘If you feel well enough, perhaps you would kindly answer a few questions. That …’ she pointed to Harriet’s dress hanging on a hook on one of the walls, ‘… that …’ she repeated in a tone of disgust, ‘… is the only garment you were wearing when you were found, other than your cloak.’
She stared down at Harriet, her eyes steely as she continued, ‘We reached the conclusion that you had probably been thrown out of one of your customer’s houses for not carrying out the ungodly duties for which you were being paid; that they beat you over the head to punish you. Young women like you,’ she added scornfully, ‘must know the risks you take when you decide to ply your trade on the streets. You will consider yourself fortunate, I imagine, to be rid of your poor, innocent baby?’
Unable to make sense of what Sister Mary Frances was saying, Harriet stared up at her. Was this a dream, she asked herself before saying, ‘What baby? I have no baby!’
‘No, young woman, you miscarried the unfortunate child that was in your womb.’
‘You mean I have had another miscarriage?’ Harriet said faintly, now sure that she must be dreaming.
‘Yes, a miscarriage!’ Sister Mary Frances said scathingly. ‘Did it not once occur to you, when you plied your disgusting trade, that you might endanger the innocent life of your unborn child? You truly deserve whatever punishments God chooses to mete out to you, young woman …’
Harriet stopped listening. There was only one conscious thought in her mind – not that this nun seemed to think she was a harlot but that she’d had a miscarriage and must, therefore, have been pregnant when she left home despite her certainty that this had not been the case. When
had
she left home? Why? Where was Brook …?
Her mind came to a halt as a fresh set of anxieties beset her. She remembered now that she and Bessie had been on their way to Ireland – to stay with Una. If she had known for certain that she was once more carrying Brook’s child, she would never have risked a fourth miscarriage – not when both she and Brook had begun to wonder if they would ever have a live son or daughter. It was not even that her figure had changed or that she had noticeably put on weight.
If it was true that she had had an early miscarriage, she must never tell Brook. He would be angry that she had risked losing yet another baby by journeying so far. She closed her eyes, but the nun’s sharp questioning fought through her desire not to listen.
‘Who are you? What is your name? Who is this Bessie you called for so often? Do you not know who fathered your child? Why else were you trying to get money? Was the man not willing to have the finger pointed at him? I want some answers, young woman. You are here because we are sworn to Pity and Charity, but it tries me that with our limited resources we must be charitable to wicked young women
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