About Matilda by Bill Walsh Page A

you laughing. Do you suddenly find something amusing in your predicament?
    It wasn’t me, girl.
    What?
    I meant, Reverend Mother. I swear it wasn’t me though. I didn’t do that to Sister Ellen’s eye.
    You know where you’re heading, Maggie Shore?
    Outside, Reverend Mother.
    There will be no outside for you, Shore. The laundry is where you’re heading. Get on your two knees and pray to Our Saviour suffering up there on the cross. Suffering for the sins of the world. Suffering for the likes of you, Maggie Shore. I’m sure God had a purpose when he sent his only begotten son to die for us, but when I see the likes of you, Maggie Shore, then I shudder at his wisdom.
    Reverend Mother glares at Pippa. Why is your mouth gaping? Shut that mouth. You only open it here for prayer or God’s Holy Food and, by the scrawny looks of you, you need plenty of both.
    Sorry, says Pippa.
    Sorry, what? Sorry, pig?
    Sorry, Reverend Mother.
    The rubber tip squeaks on the wooden floor when Reverend Mother eases herself up on her stick then rests the stick over her shoulder like a soldier carrying a gun. When she walks across the room it’s as if she’s gliding over the polished boards. I can tell that stick isn’t for walking with. There’s a great bunch of keys hanging from a chain that jangles against her thigh. She stops by the door and lashes the younger girl so hard with her stick the girl’s eyes water and her knees buckle.
    Don’t think I didn’t see you sniggering, Molly Driscoll.
    Sorry, Reverend Mother.
    I’m sure you are. Haven’t I told you enough times about fighting?
    Yes, Reverend Mother.
    What did I tell you, Driscoll?
    Turn the other cheek, Reverend Mother.
    Reverend Mother tells the first girl, Stay on your two knees and pray, Shore. You little gurrier. You’re man mad. Any more of your screeching out windows to those tomcats from Trinity Park and you’ll do your praying with the nuns in Cork. They’ll knock the man madness out of you. You should have been in the asylum long ago.
    There’s a knock on the door and a rustle of black skirts. A young red-faced nun is here. She’s big and looks like she could run with the Reverend Mother under her arm. She has bushy black eyebrows, big red eyes, a stern look and a clean holy smell but no stick to threaten us. I wonder will she listen if I tell her I want to go home. Daddy changed his mind.
    Reverend Mother pulls a white handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her sweat from the handle of her stick and the palms of her hands and tells us to go with Sister Gabriel. I look up at Mona, her eyes swollen and red around the edges when she answers, Yes, Reverend Mother. Pippa moves away from me and nearer to Mona. She keeps her hands clasped in front of her and her mouth closed and nods. Reverend Mother looks at me and I tell her my Daddy is coming and she lunges with the walking stick and gives me a rap on the back of the legs and tells us go with Sister Gabriel. But remember, you’re being watched. My leg stings and I want to cry out, but you can’t cry out when there’s nobody to listen.
    We follow Sister Gabriel. Her habit puffs around her feet like a black bell when she glides along the corridor. The darkness is falling outside and the corridor lights are on. She leads us up a stairway where girls in scraggy clothes have pieces of torn jumpers strapped to their bums and feet and are bumping down the steps and I wonder are all these girls sent away for doing bad things with their uncle. A skinny girl with a freckled forehead stops bumping and looks up at Pippa and me.
    Are yee new? Are yee?
    Pippa squeezes my hand and I squeeze back but our hands are sweaty and it’s hard to grip. A gang of girls surrounds us on the landing and I feel a pull on my arm.
    Where’d yeh get them clothes?
    I look up at Mona because she’s nine and she’ll know what to do, but Mona turns her eyes