Farewell To The East End

sleeping head. The open door and the movement had caused the pillow, which must have been smouldering for some time, to burst into flames. Her repeated screams brought help, and a rug thrown over the burning pillow and heavy stamping had controlled the fire. But the smoke was terrible, and they were lucky not to have been overcome by fumes. In the meantime Sister Monica Joan had sat on the bed saying, ‘Gracious heaven! What are you doing?’
    No one was hurt. The hem of Sister Julienne’s habit was badly scorched, but she was not burned. They were all black with smoke and soot. But Sister Monica Joan was the least troubled of anyone. Either she genuinely forgot about it or decided that it would be expedient to do so (I could never be quite sure), but she did not refer to the incident again. When the light was removed from above her bed she said nothing, but she put on her hard-done-by look.

    Then there was the occasion when Sister Monica Joan got stuck in the bath.
    We girls first became aware that something was amiss when we heard movements and voices from the Sisters’ floor during the period of the Greater Silence. This is the time after Compline, the last office of the day, and before Mass, the first of the new day, during which hours complete silence is normally observed in the monastic tradition. But on this occasion the Sisters were by no means observing the rule. First we heard one or two whispered words, then more, then a gaggle of anxious voices all talking at once, accompanied by banging on a door, and calls of ‘Sister, can you hear us? Open the door.’
    What was going on? We looked enquiringly at each other. Novice Ruth came running downstairs.
    ‘Is Fred still here? Has he gone yet?’ she called as she ran towards the kitchen. We didn’t know, but then heard ‘Fred, thank goodness you are still here. Come quickly to the second floor. We think you’ll have to break down a door.’
    Mysterious! Exciting! Thrilling! We girls looked at each other expecting more.
    We heard more voices upstairs but didn’t know what was going on. Fred came back down and passed us as we stood expectantly on the landing.
    ‘What is it, Fred? What’s up?’
    ‘I’m goin’ outside to see if ve winder’s open.’
    ‘The window? We thought it was a door.’
    ‘It’ll be easier.’
    ‘Than what?’
    ‘Than breaking ve door.’
    And off he ran.
    At this point Sister Julienne came downstairs and met Fred coming in.
    ‘Yes, Sister. Winder’s open. I reckons as ’ow I can do it.’
    ‘Oh, Fred, you’re wonderful. But do be careful.’
    Fred assumed an heroic air.
    ‘Don’ choo worry ’bout me, Sister. I’m OK. We gotter ge’ the ’ol lady safe, like. I’ll get ve ladders.’
    And off he ran.
    Cynthia spoke. ‘Sister, please tell us what is going on.’
    ‘Well, the bathroom door is locked. It seems that Sister Monica Joan is in the bath and can’t get out, but no one can get in to help her.’
    Eager to get a slice of the action, I said, ‘Fred’s getting on a bit. I’m more agile than he is. Couldn’t I go up the ladder?’
    Sister looked at me knowingly.
    ‘I have no doubt that you are more agile. But if you suggested to Fred that he was getting on and was no longer capable of going up a ladder he would be highly offended. We’ll leave it to him.’
    Twenty minutes later Fred came downstairs looking, unusually for him, abashed. The fag that normally hung from his lower lip was not there. He looked different without it.
    ‘What happened, Fred?’ we chorused.
    Knowing that we were agog with anticipation and that he was the only source of information, just to tease us he took out a battered tobacco tin from his pocket and started rolling another thin fag.
    ‘Oh, Fred. Don’t provoke. Tell us what happened.’
    He lit his fag, scratched his head and looked at us with his south-west eye, before saying, ‘Well, I reckon as ’ow I must be ve only bloke in England wot’s seen a nun stark naked.’
    ‘Oooh!’
    He was warmed to his story by our reaction.
    ‘Well, I gets up ve ladder to ve winder, like, an’ pokes me ’ead in. “Be off with you, fellow,” she calls out. ‘I gotta ge’ in, Sister,’ I says. “Come back another day, if you must; it’s not convenient at the moment.” And she splashes water in me face. Well, I wasn’t expectin’ it, an’ I nearly lost me balance.’
    ‘Oooh, Fred. Poor Fred.’
    He was really enjoying himself.
    ‘But I grabs ve sides of ve winder