In A Dark Mirror

One

Aifric sat on her old bed and took a look around her room. It was a weird feeling, seeing her room stripped bare of most of her belongings. What had been her life only two months ago, was now carefully packed inside twelve cardboard boxes. Most of them had already been taken away along with everything that belonged to mam and daid. Since she was the only one left of her family, the youth welfare service, in the shape of a very corpulent woman named Mrs. Cox, had decided that the house had to be sold along with most of the things in it. Aifric didn’t think it was fair that she didn’t get a say in what to keep and what not. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she’d been able to keep up with it.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Although most things were gone, her room still smelled like her room. She tried to imagine all this had been a nightmare, and mam would come up the stairs and ask if she had a bad dream, just like she did when Aifric was a little child. Through the open door, the smell of her own childhood mixed with someone else’s from the opposite side of the floor. The face of her little brother flashed before her eyes. Eoghan, as he stood in her bedroom door, mocking, but not daring to enter his bigger sisters place. Eoghan, as he ran across the floor from the bathroom, after he had flooded it. Eoghan, as his small body was ripped apart.

Aifric gagged. She felt a sudden rush of sickness, and tried hard not to throw up her breakfast. She remembered what the therapist at the hospital had said and began recalling columns of prime numbers in her mind. The doctor had told her to imagine something complex to fill up her mind, and draw her attention away from her memories. Maths had always been one of her favourites, and so she had begun to memorize prime numbers. It took all of her concentration, and eventually filled up her mind whole. She overcame the nausea and felt strong enough to get up. She took one last look around, and then rose up and grabbed the two suitcases, that stood by the door. The suitcases contained all that she was allowed to take to her new home in some rural orphanage north of Limerick. Some pants, underwear, the dress she got for the school dance, school uniforms, two pairs of Mary Janes and Carla, her beloved plush pig. The rest of the personal stuff would be stored in a warehouse, until she was old enough to get her own place. Rustling from downstairs told her, that Mrs. Cox, who had been outside to instruct the movers had come back in. Aifric hurried to move the suitcases downstairs. Mrs. Cox was waiting at the lower landing.

“Girl, what took you so long?” She took one of the suitcases. “We don’t have all day!”

Aifric sighed. She wasn’t expecting Mrs. Cox to understand that this was an important moment for her. She was seeing the place she grew up in for the last time after all. But for a welfare worker, Mrs. Cox was astonishingly insensitive to her fosterling’s feelings. Instead she kept on stressing, that she had fifty-nine other cases, that were indeed more urgent than this one. In one of her clearer moments, Aifric had wondered what cases might be more urgent than that of a traumatised fifteen year old orphan with nowhere to go to, but she knew better than to ask.

“I just needed a moment,” she murmured, “to say goodbye.”

She helped the woman to load the suitcases into the boot of the car. Mrs. Cox closed the boot and walked to the drivers side. Climbing into the car took her a while, since it was not easy to cram 20 stone of woman behind the wheel of a small Italian car.

Aifric sat on the passenger side, fastened the seat belt, and wiped the sweat off her hands in her jeans. Ever since the accident, she felt very uncomfortable in cars, and couldn’t bear to look out the windows. Now she had a two hour drive ahead of her, and the prospect filled her with terror. When the motor started, she took one last look back at the small house she grew up in. It would be sold, to clear off any debt her parents had left her, and new people would move in. Maybe a family like hers. A heavy weight seemed to lower on her chest, and once more she wished she could cry. When the car turned into the main road, she could not bear the view through the windows and closed her eyes, resuming to recall prime numbers.

The car stopped. Aifric opened her eyes. They had hardly spoken a word since the trip started, except for Mrs. Cox, telling her not to be scared a couple of times.

“Everything will be alright,” she had said. “I’m a good driver.”

“Yes,” Aifric had answered through gritted teeth, and without opening her eyes. “So was my daid.”

Now Mrs. Cox set up her best impression of an encouraging smile.

“See? I told you it will be safe. And here we are!”

Aifric looked around. They had parked in front of a big iron gate, that blocked the entrance to a fairly large estate. It was surrounded by high walls, but through the gate she could see the lush green of a garden and, in the distance, an old house. It would have been pretty, if it weren’t for a strange air of decay that surrounded the place. It wasn’t so much that the house was in a desolate state, but the paint on the walls was cracked here and there and weeds grew in the flowerbeds. Were Aifric in a normal state of mind, she might have been scared by the place. But right now, she just noticed it without any emotion.

Mrs. Cox opened the drivers door and heaved her massive body out of the car. Aifric undid the seat belt, opened her door and got out of the car herself; relieved that the long drive was over. While Mrs. Cox rang the bell, Aifric moved behind the car, and began lifting her suitcases from the boot. She tried to listen into herself, but she didn’t feel anything. She carried the suitcases to the gate, that was just now opened by an old nun.

“Hello, hello!” The old nun said. “My name is Sister Immaculata, and you must be Aifric!”

Although her voice was friendly, her face was emotionless. It took seconds until Aifric realised, that the sister hat reached out a hand, and remembered her manners.

She took it, and whispered: “Nice to meet you, sister.”

The nun’s hand was cold, and she had hardly any grip at all. It felt a bit like a dead fish in Aifric’s hand. They followed the old sister in. The front door was made of heavy oak, and dominated the whole front of the house. Immaculata had to use her whole weight to push it open.

Inside, Aifric found herself in a large hall. A broad staircase led up to the upper floor, and on the wall to her left, an enormous wooden crucifix dominated the place. Sister Immaculata crossed herself. The carved Jesus figure was a little too detailed, the wounds on his side, thorns on his head and his face a grimace of agony. Aifric’s attention was drawn to the staircase, as a group of girls came down. They were talking, some laughing and pointing towards Aifric, as if she was some curious animal. The girls were between 8 and 12 years old, except one, who stood out from the crowed, not only because she was the oldest and tallest, but because of her ginger hair. Her long sleek hair was the colour of copper, and her eyes were as green as the ocean. Apart from the squinting look on her face, she was stunningly beautiful. While the other girls seemed curious, the ginger one just stood there, arms crossed, and stared.

Immaculata ignored the girls on the staircase, and pushed Aifric towards the door to the right. “Mother Agatha will see you now.” She stated, and led both of them into a huge office.

Opposite from the door stood a huge wooden desk, behind which a grim looking nun was seated. Behind her, on the wall, was another crucifix, made of brass, and with a heavy silver Jesus figure, which did not look quite as agonised as the one in the hall. Below the cross, carefully rolled up, hung a long leather cord, that reminded Aifric of a whip.

“Welcome to St. Mary’s. I am Mother Agatha”, the nun behind the desk began in a voice like rusting iron. “Please sit!”

Mrs. Cox sat down in one of the chairs that stood in front of the desk and Aifric sat in another. Mrs. Cox handed some papers to Mother Agatha.

“I need some signatures. Here, and here…”

The two women began talking about the bureaucratic details, and Aifric stopped listening. Her mind was beginning to wander. She looked around the room, seeing old bookshelves, folders full of papers, a golden pen on the desk. She was brought back into reality, when Mrs. Cox rose from her seat.

“So Aifric,” she said. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of the sisters. I will come to see how you do, every once in a while, if you need anything, ask the sisters, or call my office!”

She put on that encouraging smile that she had faked so well many times before, and patted on Aifric’s shoulder. Automatically, Aifric rose, and took the woman’s hand. But she said nothing.

“Goodbye, Aifric!” Mrs. Cox said.

“Goodbye Mother Agatha! It was a pleasure seeing you.” She turned to Agatha and shook her hand too.

“Likewise.” Mother Agatha hardly rose from her seat. “Sister Immaculata will show you out. Sister?”

Mrs. Cox turned, and hurried out of the room, as if she couldn’t get away from this place fast enough. Immaculata followed her out, and closed the door behind her.

“Sit!” Mother Agatha commanded. She was a woman in her late fifties or early sixties and time had made her features hard. Her hair was invisible under her veil, so it didn’t give away a hint on her true age.

“Welcome to St. Mary’s!” Mother Agatha said again. “We will take the responsibility of your education from now on. For us, the Sisters here at St. Mary’s you will be like our own flesh and blood. We feed you, we teach you and we will pray for you. Comes time, we will have formed you a good and useful member of society!”

“Your name is Aifric?” Mother Agatha asked. “What’s your Christian name?”

Aifric didn’t understand this question, so she answered. “My name is Aifric. Aifric Lyons.”

“You don’t have a second name?”

“No.” Aifric asked herself where is was going.

Mother Agatha pondered for a while. “That is unacceptable.” She concluded. “You need a Christian name. You will be known as Magdalena from now on!”

Aifric blinked. She didn’t get the point here. “Why?”

Mother Agatha rose from her seat. “In this house, you will not question me! We have strict rules here, and I expect you to follow them. Pray hard and obey, and you will be saved!”

Agatha sat back on her chair and the tone of her voice got friendlier. “I will not tolerate any of this heathen language in this house. It is not agreeable to God, not at all! A good catholic never speaks Irish, for it is unchristian. Do you understand?”

Aifric did not understand, but she nodded silently. Her family, like most Irish people, had been catholic, and the pastor in their parish at home, had held his sermon in Gaeilge every other Sunday. Her parents had always set a high value on teaching their children English and Irish alike. In school, she had often talked to her mates in Gaeilge; it was considered cool among her peers, also because many of the older teachers weren’t good at it.

“Good. Now girl, give me your telephone!”

Aifric was confused. “My telephone?”

“Your mobile telephone. All of you young people have them nowadays, don’t they? They are not allowed in here, they allow access to all sorts of filth. You will have no need to call someone, and if you do, you can always ask Sister Immaculata or myself, and we will let you use the telephone, if we see fit.”

She reached out her hand.

Aifric sighed, and pulled her mobile out from her pocket. It was an old model without internet access, and here was no signal here, so it was pretty much useless. There was no one to call anyway. Most of her old friends had turned away. In the beginning, they had visited her a few times, but these meetings had been awkward and weired, so they had stopped coming. Probably they couldn’t stand being around the girl that had been touched by death. Aifric didn’t blame them. She handed over the phone wordlessly.

“Now go. Heather, will show you around.”

Agatha rose from her desk, and led Aifric through the door back into the hall.

“Heather! Heather Whelan!” She yelled so suddenly, that Aifric flinched.

The ginger girl came down the staircase, decidedly slow. Agatha impatiently tapped her foot.

“God hates the lazy!”

“Yes, mother.” Heather replied, but didn’t move any faster. She stopped in front of them, and looked Aifric over with blatant hostility.

“Please show Magdalena around, and help her settle in.” Agatha said, her voice cold as ice, while she stared back at Heather. The tension between the two could have been cut with a knife. They stared at each other silently for a moment, then Agatha turned and disappeared into her office.

Heather stared at Aifric, arms crossed. After a while, she said: “Hey!”

“Hi!” Whispered Aifric. She was feeling very scared.

Heather just gave her a bugged out look.

“Come along then!”, she commanded then turned and began walking up the stairs. Aifric grabbed her suitcases and hurried after the girl. Packed with her luggage, she had trouble keeping up, but the ginger girl did not make any attempt to help her. From the stairs they walked along a corridor, which ended in a fairly large dormitory. Heather explained, that there where two dormitories, each at the opposite ends of the corridor. One for the younger girls, and one for the teenagers. There where five beds in the dorm, the one near the window was Aifric’s, Heather explained. Between the halls were the lavatories. The dining-hall along with the kitchen and the classrooms were downstairs.

While she began to unpack her things, Heather sat on her bed and watched.

“Got any fags?” She asked.

“I don’t smoke.” Aifric replied. Heather grunted, produced a packet of cigarettes from somewhere, and left.

“Charming.” Aifric thought. She had the feeling that nearly everyone in here was hostile towards her. The abbess, the other girls. She sighed heavily and continued to unpack.

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