Farewell To The East End

that his aunt had woken the whole house at three o’clock in the morning with a garbled story about flower essence, and if you have a bad toe rub it on your toe and it will get better, and if you have a tummy ache rub it on your tummy and the ache will go away, and if the one with the spots rubs it on her spots they will go away, and wasn’t it wonderful? The nephew had replied that it was not at all wonderful. He and his wife had to go to work the next day, and the children had to go to school, and did she realise what time of the night it was? Sister Monica Joan had replied that yes, she thought she knew, but she was so sure the one with the spots ought to hear the good news straight away, so could she speak to her? The nephew had replied certainly not, it was ten past three, and the girl had to go to school. She was doing her O-levels and needed her sleep.
    Sister Julienne was apologising and saying that she had no idea Sister Monica Joan was active in the middle of the night, when the nephew interrupted to say that that was not the end of the story by any means. About an hour later they were all woken again, and Sister Monica Joan explained that she didn’t want the one with the spots to think she was being specially favoured, but spots were such an affliction at that age, didn’t he know, nor did she want the two younger gels to feel left out, so she had a little present for them also, which she would give to them personally.
    After that, the nephew said, he had disconnected the telephone, and Sister Julienne agreed that under the circumstances it was the best thing he could have done.
    The following Saturday Sister Monica Joan decided to go to Richmond again. She discussed it fully with everyone around the big dining table. She must be sure to see those dear gels again, and how exciting to discover you have young and pretty great-nieces that you didn’t know you had, and it reminded her of her own young days with her sisters in the big house and all the fun they used to have.
    Sister Julienne was glad to know at least where she was going on this occasion, and telephoned the nephew to tell him to expect his aunt. She made quite sure that Sister Monica Joan had enough money for the bus fare.
    But a humble London double-decker was not part of Sister Monica Joan’s plans. Having once experienced the delights of a London taxi-cab, buses were out of the question. Oh, the pleasure and the grandeur of sitting alone in the spacious interior while a competent driver weaves his way through the streets. None of the awful business of having to get off one bus and wait anxiously for another. No standing around – just go straight from Poplar to Richmond (about fifteen miles through Central London). Sister Monica Joan was delighted with her new-found ease of transport. No fussing, looking for your bus pass. No fumbling for pennies and shillings to pay the bus conductor. And it didn’t seem to cost anything. You just had to say, ‘Payment will be met on arrival,’ and off he went, dear man.
    The nephew did not complain the first two times he was expected to finance the taxi-fare, but after the third occasion he put through a gentle phone call to Sister Julienne asking her, as tactfully as he could, if she could provide his aunt with sufficient money to pay for her own taxi. Sister, who with mounting alarm at the depletion of the convent’s petty cash had paid for four return taxis, agreed that things were getting out of hand, and that she would have to do something, although she was not sure what. The nephew was particular to say that they were all delighted with his aunt’s visits, and the girls adored her and would sit listening to her for hours. She was enchanting. It was just the taxi fares …
    There was considerable discussion amongst the nuns as to how best to control the mounting problem. Sister Julienne had a very serious discussion with Sister Monica Joan about the vows of poverty, the need to economise for the sake of running the convent, the expense of taxi fares, and the need to take the bus wherever possible. Sister Monica Joan was very amenable and fully understood that she had been extravagant, so she agreed to take the bus in future. But perhaps she forgot. Or perhaps she could not resist the temptation when she saw a shiny black taxi-cab in the street. Or perhaps her intentions were good, but it was raining, and Sister Monica Joan could not abide the rain. Whatever the reason, the situation