Mother Superior called a meeting. She sent six of the children to wash their faces and comb their hair. They were provided with a fresh change of clothes before being told to wait at the convent doors.
There had been no words of comfort from the bishop. Mother Superior stood with a severe expression, but Ettie saw that her eyes were filled with deep regret.
‘Children, you must obey your new employer. The farmer will look after you if you work hard.’
Sister Patrick’s face was pale; she couldn’t hide her suffering as she whispered, ‘Ettie, bid farewell to the children.’
The parting was heartbreaking. Kathy clung to Ettie who did not know how to comfort her. The farmer pulled her away and pushed them all roughly into his cart like animals. Without a word of reassurance for his tiny passengers he jumped up to his seat and whipped the donkey’s backside.
Ettie watched until the cart moved away. Kathy’s little face was wet with terrified tears.
Ettie could not look at Sister Patrick or Mother Superior. They would see her anger. This heartless employer showed no signs of interest in the children. She knew they would not be happy.
Ettie was unaccustomed to being angry. She ran to the dormitory and sat looking at Kathy’s empty bed. The nuns had already removed the blankets and pillows. Only two bed were left made up, hers and Megan and Amy’s. She knew this was the end of their time at the orphanage. They, too, would soon be disposed of like cattle.
The next day, Sister Patrick woke Ettie at dawn. ‘Child, prepare yourself.’
‘Am I to leave now?’
Sister Patrick nodded. ‘Come to the dining room.’
Ettie obeyed. A desperation filled her as she dressed. When she was ready, she looked one last time around the room she knew she would never see again. Then she went to Megan and Amy whose little faces poked up from the blanket. Bending down, she kissed each forehead tenderly. There was nothing she could do to save them now.
There were only ashes in the hearth and the snow was slipping through the broken windows of the dining room and dotting the stone flags beneath. Sister Patrick looked very old, her shoulders slumped under the folds of her habit which hung from her as if there were no bones left to cover.
‘Sure, this is goodbye my darlin’ girl,’ she said in a broken voice. ‘Remember I love you. Your mother Colleen O’Reilly loves you, and Jesus loves you.’
Ettie choked back her tears.
‘Don’t be going all teary on me, child,’ admonished the nun. ‘We must do as the Good Lord tells us.’
Even if it hurts people? wondered Ettie sadly. Even if it breaks people’s hearts? But these were useless questions for she knew the answer. ‘God asks us for sacrifice and it must be given willingly.’
‘Work hard, be diligent and pray,’ echoed Sister Patrick. ‘Himself will reward you.’
Ettie knew the nun was letting her down gently. For she understood, as the nun also understood, that this was the end of their time together.
Mother Superior and Sister Ukunda came to join them. Ettie saw Mother Superior’s true emotions for the first time. Her tall, upright body was bent. She did not reach out, but kept her hands inside the folds of her sleeves to hide their trembling.
‘God go with you, my child.’ Mother Superior’s eyes were bright with a shine.
‘May He bless you and keep you safe,’ murmured Sister Ukunda, pulling out her hanky and blowing her bulbous red nose.
‘Your ride is waiting, darlin’ girl,’ murmured Sister Patrick as she embraced Ettie. ’Sure, it’s just the gardener’s rickety old cart, but Arthur knows his way to the city.’
Ettie looked one last time at the nuns. They were all the family she had ever had. Now she was losing them as she’d lost the children; all innocent victims of the bishop’s cruel directive.
‘Up you go lass,’ said Arthur as he unlatched the back of his dog cart with gnarled fingers. His silver hair gleamed in the pale sunshine as he pulled his cap on his head. ‘I’m glad to see you dressed warmly. The air is still bitter.’
Ettie sat clutching her cloth bag on the worn wooden seat. Her only possessions were her well-worn bible and rosary beads. After fourteen years of life at the convent she was saying goodbye to her family.
What would she do without the nuns and the orphans?
With a muffled groan, Arthur climbed slowly to the dicky seat and clucked his tongue. ‘Giddy-up gal!’
Ettie hugged her shawl to her as the old nag pulled them through the convent gates. The big wooden wheels of the dog cart ground squeakily along. Ettie was lost in her worries. Her life would seem empty without the children to care for. Would she be a welcome addition to this new household?
The prospect was daunting. Tears were still very close. Yet she knew that she was more fortunate than the other children and should be grateful. She couldn’t stop thinking about the farmer who had come for his labourers. The heart-rending sobbing of the orphans still rang in her ears.
Ettie tried to pray. But the hurt was too raw inside her. After a while, her thoughts began to settle. For what was the use of all this worrying? She could do no more for the orphans.
When she looked up, they were passing through a bustling market. Tradesmen and shoppers stood bargaining over their purchases. Flower sellers waited on corners and barrow boys pushed carts piled high with fruit and vegetables. It reminded her of the market she went to with Sister Ukunda. Her eyes searched the crowds in hope. But of course, there was no tiny plump figure wearing a black habit. Those days were over, she reminded herself painfully.
A few minutes later the cart turned into a long street. Tall buildings rose either side of the Commercial Road and men in bowler hats and caps rushed in and
