The Adventures of Fiona McCormack
A Story by Jenny O’Brien
The sound of the school bell curtailed any more discussion and the four girls trooped back into the school, uncertain of how the day would turn out. When they arrived in the classroom, Sister Dominique was already seated at her desk, sorting out some papers. She looked up at the four nervous schoolgirls and remembering the stone-throwing incident of a few days earlier said, “I hope that you are not planning to disrupt my class again girls. I shall not treat you so leniently again. Is that understood?” “Yes Sister”, they all chorused, before taking their seats. Fiona was beginning to wish they hadn’t unscrewed the desk. She had butterflies in her belly and Sister Dominique had already made it abundantly clear that any incidents would result in the culprit visiting the Mother Superior.
Fiona stole a quick glance at Rebecca. It was obvious that Rebecca felt much the same as she did, as she sat, biting her nails. Even Pippa and Hannah, who always sat together at the back of the class, looked apprehensive. Although with Pippa, it was difficult to know whether she was concerned if her trick worked or concerned if it didn’t. The class started with a written French assignment, which Fiona found very difficult to concentrate on, her mind being fixed on the drama to come. As Sister Dominique passed between the desks, she stopped next to Fiona. “What is the meaning of this, girl? Demanded the nun. “You haven’t written a word!” Fiona looked down at the blank exercise book in front of her. “I’m sorry Sister”, she stuttered. Sister Dominique took a closer look at her. “You’re shivering, Fiona”, she said, now concerned. “Are you feeling unwell? Would you like to go to the sick room?” Much as Fiona would have liked to leave, she knew that she couldn’t leave her friends, so she shook her head. “If your sure”, said Sister Dominique, “but let me know if you start to feel worse, won’t you?”
The lesson seemed to go on and on, with no sign of Sister Dominique sitting on the desk. Fiona looked up at the clock. There were only ten minutes left and Fiona was beginning to entertain the hope that, for the first time in her life, Sister Dominique would give the reciting of verbs a miss. Then without warning, the Sister picked up her leather bound book of verbs and announced “girls, for the last ten minutes of the class, we shall recite our verb tables!” Fiona felt her heart sink as Sister Dominique flicked through the book. “Now where shall we start? Fiona, could you start us off by conjugating the verb to sit”. And with that, Sister Dominique, skipped across the front of the classroom towards the desk. Fiona held her breath. The nun’s journey across the room seemed to be in slow motion, before finally hopping into the air and landing on the desk. For a split second, Fiona thought that the desk was going to support her, but any hopes of that were soon dispelled by the sound of cracking wood and of the desk hitting the floor. Fiona shut her eyes.
The sound seemed to go on for several seconds and then, total silence. Fiona opened her eyes again and was immediately shocked by the scene in front of her. From her position near the front of the class, she could see that the legs of the desk had scattered in all directions and that one of them had broken in half. The top of the desk, propelled by Sister Dominique’s momentum, had fallen several feet to the side and the Sister, even further over, lay motionless with her head against the wall. To Fiona’s horror, a trickle of blood ran along the floor from where her head lay. None of the girls had moved when, alerted by the noise, Sister Teresa and Sister Martha rushed in. “Oh my God!” exclaimed Sister Martha as she rushed to the unconscious nun’s side. “Call an ambulance, Sister and get the Reverend Mother. Quickly!”
The girls were still in a state of shock when Sister Teresa and the Reverend Mother returned. “An ambulance is on its way, Sister Martha”, said the Reverend Mother. “Sister Teresa, could you move the girls into the empty classroom next door please?” As Sister Teresa ushered the class out of the room, Fiona had a last look at the carnage before she left. It didn’t look good! Sister Dominique was motionless and lying in a very strange position with blood oozing from a large gash on her forehead. She tried to make eye contact with her friends, but like her, they seemed preoccupied with the scene of devastation.
In the next classroom, nothing was said. Sister Teresa, realising that many of the girls were in a state of shock, didn’t try to find out what had happened, preferring to let the class of eleven year olds calm down first. Fiona heard the ambulance arrive and then a few minutes later, she heard it leave, with its siren blaring. Several minutes later, the door opened and the Mother Superior entered, accompanied by Mr O’Leary, who was holding a leg from the desk. Fiona had seen the Reverend Mother look angry before, but she had never seen her like this. Her face was red and contorted and when she spoke, she spat the words out as if they were poison. “Girls”, she said, her voice breaking with emotion, “Mr O’Leary has informed me that the desk had been tampered with!” Fiona gulped. “The grievous injury to Sister Dominique was not an accident, it was a deliberate act”. She stressed the word “Deliberate” and Fiona felt herself shudder. “Girls, I demand to know who is responsible for this wicked act!”
Suddenly, Fiona was aware that Sister Teresa’s eyes were fixed on her. She looked away quickly, but when she glanced back, Sister Teresa was still glaring intently back at her. Of course, she thought to herself, Sister Teresa had seen them in the classroom before hand. She must know who the guilty ones were, but why hadn’t she said anything. Slowly it started to dawn on Fiona. The Sister knew exactly who the culprits were; she was just giving them the opportunity to own up. Fiona made a move to rise, but her legs were heavy and she sank back down again. Looking back towards Sister Teresa, she saw her nod slightly and smile. Fiona made another effort and rose unsteadily to her feet. She could feel everyone’s eyes upon her as she said in a tiny voice “please Reverend Mother, It was me”.
She half expected the Mother Superior to explode, but there was no reaction except for the sound of scraping chairs behind her. She looked around to see that Rebecca, Hannah and Pippa were also standing, with their heads bowed. Seemingly satisfied with the response, the Reverend Mother started to issue orders. After dismissing the rest of the shocked class and reminding them that they would need to pack, so that they could be collected by their parents the next day, she turned to Sister Teresa. “I have to go to the hospital now to see how Sister Dominique is. Could you take these four to the hall outside my office and wait for my return? Don’t let them say a word to each other, Sister. I don’t want them concocting excuses in my absence!” With that, and without even glancing at the four guilty schoolgirls, she marched off. “I’m really sorry, Sister” Fiona started to explain. “Silence girl”, ordered Sister Teresa. “You heard what the Reverend Mother said! I don’t want to hear a single word from any of you. Not one word! You’ll have plenty of opportunity to tell it to her, when she returns”. With that, she marched the four girls, who were now sobbing freely, towards the office.
When they arrived in the hall, after shooing away two girls who were already there, rather than putting them in a line outside the door, Sister Teresa took each girl in turn and placed them in a different corner, with their noses pressed against the wall and their hands on their heads. From this position, none of the schoolgirls could see each other and were aware of each other’s presence, only from the sounds of sniffling coming from the other corners. Meanwhile, Sister Teresa took up a position in the centre of the hall and kept watch, occasionally upbraiding one of the girls for moving, lowering her hands or not pressing her nose far enough into the corner. Fiona was aware of quite a lot of coming and going in the hall. The last day of term was a busy time for the school and many girls needed to visit the School Secretary’s office to collect reports or letters. She couldn’t see anyone from her position, but she soon became aware that, whenever girls were passing by, their conversation became more hushed or trailed away completely as they saw the four guilty girls. It was clear that word of their wicked deed had already travelled around the whole school.
At least a couple of hours had passed, before Fiona heard the unmistakable sound of the Reverend Mother’s voice, accompanied by a man. She couldn’t make out what was being said, as they both spoke in low tones. Then she heard the office door close behind them. Several minutes later she heard the door open again and the Reverend Mother speak. “Yes officer. I will call you tomorrow. It’s up to Sister Dominique to decide if she wants to take the matter further, when she regains consciousness, but in the meantime, I can assure you that the matter will be severely dealt with”. Fiona heard the footsteps of the man fade away and expected to be summoned to the office. But instead, she heard the Reverend Mother address Sister Teresa. “Can you keep an eye on them for another ten minutes, Sister? I need to make a few preparations”.
Fiona’s head was spinning. Sister Dominique was still unconscious and now the police were involved. How had she managed to get herself into this pickle? What would happen to her now? What if Sister Dominique died? Then she would be a murderer! Once again, the tears started to run down her cheeks as she contemplated the enormity of what they had done. A few minutes later, Fiona heard the Reverend Mother return to her office and close the door behind her. How long would it be? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door being opened and the Reverend Mothers voice. “Bring them in, Sister Teresa. Let’s see what they have to say for themselves”. With that, the four girls all left their posts in the corners of the hall and traipsed, heavy legged towards the office. “Keep your hands on your heads!” ordered Sister Teresa as the four sorry schoolgirls marched fearfully through the door.