Living With Evil Cynthia Owen (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

compared to the other girls’. I scratched it all the time, and I didn’t have a brush, so I just knew it was sticking out in all directions like it always did.

I felt so embarrassed that I wished I could turn invisible, but instead it felt as if every light hanging from the ceiling and every pair of eyes was shining on me, making me stand out even more.

I glanced at my hands, and seeing a thick ridge of dirt under each of my fingernails, I quickly sat on them to hide them. Next I tucked my feet as far behind me as I could, to hide my Wellingtons under my chair. Nobody else had Wellingtons on, it seemed like they all had shiny new shoes.

Mrs O’Reilly told me I could choose where I wanted to sit over on the girl’s side. I scoured the room nervously, and my gaze fell on a girl I recognized from going to the shops near our house. She wasn’t staring at me like the others, and I noticed her clothes didn’t look as fancy, so I asked if I could sit by her. She gave me a friendly smile, and from that day on we became good friends.

Later, we were told an older girl was coming into the class to help out, as Mrs O’Reilly had to leave early, and to my delight it turned out to be Esther. That put a big smile on my face, even though I sensed from that very first day that school was not going to be the wonderful place I had dreamed of.

When the neighbours and local shopkeepers asked me how school was I said, ‘Grand.’ In some ways, it was. The bits I liked were that it was warm and clean and I didn’t have to worry about what Mammy might do, but I didn’t say that to anybody. That’s what I thought of school though. Despite the fact that I hadn’t settled in yet, I reckoned it was going to be far better than being at home.

I can clearly remember meeting Mother Dorothy, who ran the school. She was very tall and looked fierce and strict. She made us quake just by walking in the room, and we all sat to attention and watched and listened in perfect silence, lined up like little soldiers, hanging on her every word.

With a stony face, she told us that bold behaviour would not be tolerated. God was everywhere, watching our every move. As she said this, she looked straight at me, and I felt very uncomfortable, but I didn’t know why. I was sure I hadn’t done anything wrong, but by the way she looked at me, Mother Dorothy seemed to think I had.

We were to be sure our sins would be found out, Mother Dorothy went on. If we sinned, we would have to do penance. I thought that must mean saying the Hail Mary and asking God to pray for us, like I did at church. I liked saying my prayers, so that was fine.

But then Mother Dorothy said that if we didn’t do enough penance we would go to the burning fires of hell! How much penance was enough? How many prayers would I have to say to stop being burned? I had no idea at all, but I made a secret vow to say extra prayers that night, just to be safe.

‘Make no mistake,’ she continued, pointing a bony finger around the class, ‘I will see to it that bold children are severely punished. They will be punished in front of the whole class!’ As she said this, she banged a long, thin cane into the wooden floor, which made such a loud noise we all sat up even more.

Now I was rigid with fear, my spine straighter than the cane as I sat bolt upright. Being punished in front of the whole class sounded worse than going to the burning fires of hell. Ever since that first day, all I had wanted was to hide at the back of the class so nobody could see my scruffy clothes and messy hair, and I was terrified of being beaten with a cane in front of all these other children.

I could tell from the start Mother Dorothy didn’t like me. I watched her smile at other children all the time, asking politely after their parents. ‘I saw your daddy on television last night,’ I’d hear her say to one of the rich kids. ‘What wonderful work he’s doing! Please send him my regards. Has your mother got a new car? How lovely!’

But she seemed only ever to scowl at me, and before long she was giving out steam to me all the time.

‘You stupid child! What are you wearing? You’ll catch pneumonia! ’ she barked one day. I didn’t have a coat, it was lashing down with rain, and Mammy had ordered me to wear a pair of old sandals with no socks instead of my Wellington boots. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t argue. Sometimes Mammy made up funny rules like that. If I argued I knew Mammy would go mad and hit me, so I did as I was told.

My toes felt like little icicles, and I was frozen to the bone, but I didn’t think Mother Dorothy really cared about how I felt, because every time she spoke to me she always made me feel worse. ‘I’m real sorry, Reverend Mother, truly I am,’ I said, pleading for forgiveness with my eyes and not knowing what else to say.

Mammy didn’t like me telling anyone our business, so I couldn’t say I didn’t have any socks or shoes at home. ‘I promise faithfully I won’t do it again,’ I said, not knowing if Mammy would let me wear the Wellingtons the next day or not.

‘Make quite sure you don’t, you stupid girl,’ said Mother Dorothy. ‘Or you will have me to answer to.’

However much I tried to be invisible, she always