‘That’ll teach you to rob the milk,’ she wheezed. She told me she had hidden that bottle for a week so it would go sour and teach me a lesson. It did, and I felt very ill all day and couldn’t face drinking milk again for a long time afterwards.
I started skipping school because I felt so ill, and Mammy seemed pleased. She never told me off for having days off. I think she liked having me in the house so I could help sweep the floor and wash out the babies’ nappies.
I didn’t look at my body to see what was happening. I had never really looked at my own body. Mammy always told me I was a ‘dirty bitch’ if I looked at her by accident when she was getting dressed. I didn’t want to be a dirty bitch and look at myself, so I never did.
I threw my clothes on in the dark in the morning and took them off in the dark at night, as always. Besides, I was too scared to look.
A few weeks later, Mother Dorothy marched into our classroom with a face like thunder.
‘Cynthia Murphy, I want to talk to you in my office!’ she boomed.
I blushed. Did she know I was a freak, and was she going to shout at me for being so weird?
I dutifully followed her into her office, head bowed and hands clasped across my belly.
‘Are you pregnant, child?’ she demanded. ‘No, Mother Dorothy, of course I’m not pregnant!’ I replied, shocked and insulted by the question. Mammy hadn’t used the word ‘pregnant’. How dare Mother Dorothy say I was pregnant?
Thoughts dashed through my head. Thank goodness she hadn’t asked me if I was having a freak, because then I would have had to lie.
I wasn’t pregnant like Mammy and Margaret got pregnant. I wasn’t a mammy having a baby. I was having a monster, but I wasn’t telling Mother Dorothy that. Mammy had warned me to say nothing to the nuns and had threatened to beat me if I did, so I just denied everything.
Mammy was so keen to keep the secret that she had started telling me to hide upstairs if anyone came to the door. Daddy had been angrier than ever lately too, and had threatened me with a thrashing many times.
I didn’t know why, because he didn’t seem to know about the monster. He never mentioned it like Mammy did. But if I told Mother Dorothy and she came knocking on the door, he would beat me for sure.
My legs already felt sore all the time. I didn’t want Daddy thrashing them with his belt and making them hum with pain. I could never sit down properly for ages after he whacked the back of my thighs, and I wanted to sit down all the time now.
There was no way I was telling Mother Dorothy my secret. ‘No, Mother Dorothy,’ I repeated firmly. ‘I certainly am not pregnant!’ My cheeks were burning. I was horrified.
I would never have told her my secret in a million years. Mother Dorothy had beaten me for having lice in my hair. What would she do to me if I had a freak in my tummy?
‘Then why do you keep wearing that smock coat to school every day?’ she demanded. ‘And why will you not take it off in the classroom?’
It was true. I had been wearing a three-quarter-length smock jacket every day for a couple of months now. I suppose it stood out because it had big buttons down the front, but my own coat didn’t fit me any more.
Mammy ordered me to wear the coat to school every day to hide my tummy, and so I did. I also wore a floaty dress sometimes, because it flowed over my tummy and wasn’t as tight as my other clothes.
My chest was getting bigger now too. Mammy hadn’t given me a bra, and I only had an old vest to wear and felt embarrassed by my changing shape, so I was happy to hide under the coat.
‘Take the coat off,’ ordered Mother Dorothy. ‘Remove that coat immediately!’
I was terrified of Mother Dorothy and what she might do if my secret came out, so I shook my head and refused point blank.
Mammy had told me I had to wear the coat all day, that I was to hide the freak in my tummy. The very last thing I wanted was for Mother Dorothy to know my secret, or for anyone to see the funny new shape of my body.
‘Take off the coat,’ she barked again.
I couldn’t take the coat off. My legs and arms were still skinny like they always were, but my tummy was swollen and sticking out. I knew, I could feel it.
I fiddled with one of the big plastic buttons on the front of the jacket. There was no way I could take the coat off. It would cause so much trouble.
I burst into tears and darted straight out of Mother Dorothy’s office.
I dreaded going to school the next day, and made up my mind that when Mother Dorothy spoke to me again I would say absolutely nothing. It must be a terrible sin to have a monster in your tummy, and I couldn’t face a caning. I had to stay silent.
I sighed with great relief when Mother Dorothy said I was to sit with my back to the rest of the class. I said nothing and just did it, very relieved not to have a scene in front of my classmates.
The next time my friends asked me to go swimming at the pool down at Saville Park, I just said no. I loved swimming and missed our trips there at the weekend, but Mammy wouldn’t let me go and, besides, I didn’t want anyone to see my bulging stomach, so I made excuses. If any of my classmates asked about my smock coat, I told them I had pneumonia and had to
