Sometimes I wished I didn’t believe in the principles of right and wrong, in the obligation to treat people with kindness and generosity no matter the circumstance. If I didn’t believe in all that then I could be free from the imprisonment of morality. Unfortunately, I did believe in all those things. I held on to them dearly, which meant freedom was elusive.
I had to try and be selfless, even if it didn’t feel very good.
“Get some sleep,” Aoife soothed, stroking my hair. I turned over and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to sleep because I knew the nightmares awaiting me, but I was too emotionally drained to stay awake. I drifted off and miraculously had a dreamless sleep. Come to think of it, I never had bad dreams when I stayed at Aoife’s. I only ever had them at Ard na Mara. That house truly had to be haunted. I could barely stomach the thoughts of going back, even though I knew I had to.
The following day Aoife and I walked to school together. The mood was sombre. Our last class before lunch was English, and I took the opportunity to approach Sister Dorothy once the class ended.
“Can I talk to you in private?” I asked as students filed out of the room. She must’ve sensed my desperation because she nodded gravely.
“Follow me.”
Sister Dorothy led me to the school chapel. We passed by the altar and through a door on the right which opened into a small cloister, beyond which was the red brick, single storey building where the nuns lived. Only a handful of them taught in the school, the others preferring a life of quiet solitude and prayer within these walls. I eyed the vegetable patch where carrots, parsnips and a variety of other root vegetables grew.
I continued following her inside and down a long, silent hallway. I’d never experienced such silence, and there was a wonderful peace to it. If Ard na Mara had demons and ghosts in its walls, this place had nothing but angels. Its energy was light, bright and full of goodness.
Sister Dorothy opened a door, revealing a small, simple bedroom. It was only slightly larger than my own bedroom. A round window brought sunlight into the room from up high. The bed was made with clean, pale linen bedding, and a small stack of books sat on the nightstand.
“Is this your room?” I asked.
She nodded. “It’s not much, but it does the job. Please sit.” I perched on the bed, folding my hands in my lap.
“I have to say, I am intrigued,” Sister Dorothy said. “Few students come to talk to me anymore. In fact, you’re the only one who does.”
“I’m sure they would if you didn’t come across so …” I trailed off, unsure how to put it politely.
Sister Dorothy gave a wry smile. “If I didn’t come across like such a grumpy auld bitch, you mean?”
She surprised a laugh out of me, and it was exactly what I needed to relax. I’d made something of a crazy decision about the path my life should take, and I was honestly a little anxious about it.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked then, her smile turning kind, gentle even. All the aloof dismissiveness she dispensed to the students in her classes was gone. I started to realise that was a mask, a way of handling masses of young women who would challenge her at the tiniest flicker of weakness.
I brought my attention back to my own issue, to the conclusion I’d come to sometime during the night. I knew what direction I needed to take now. Even though it scared me, it was so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realised it sooner.
“I, um,” I paused, staring at the flowery pattern of the rug on the floor. “I wanted to ask you what I’d need to do to become a nun.”
Sister Dorothy looked momentarily caught off-guard, shooting me a disbelieving look. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”
“Not at all, I couldn’t be more serious.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, you’ll forgive my surprise. I haven’t met a person your age who expressed an interest in becoming a sister in quite some time.”
“Any advice you can give is much appreciated,” I said in earnest.
She eyed me speculatively. “Joining a religious order isn’t something to be taken lightly, Estella.”
“I know that, and I don’t take it lightly. I think this is what I was always meant for. I just didn’t see it until now.”
If my dad’s curse was a result of not joining the priesthood, then I would finally fulfil his promise by dedicating my life to God. The thought had never occurred to me, but I knew it had to be done. There was no other choice, and though it was scary, the fact that I didn’t have a choice made me feel oddly resolute. If I wanted to escape the bad luck that stole my dad’s life, then it was a small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of things. It was simple, really.