The Devil and Mary Ann Read online

  ‘No, no. Oh, I won’t! Oh, Mrs McBride, no I won’t! I won’t ever turn me nose up at you.’ Mary Ann was deeply hurt by the suggestion.

  ‘Ah well, time will tell.’ Fanny sighed and the smile sank from her face. ‘You want treacle on your griddle cake?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Mary Ann, now on her feet, watched Fanny go into the scullery, and her thoughts once again slipped into despondency. The only consolation this going away to school offered was that she would learn to be a lady and talk swanky. But now, apparently, there were dangers even in that.

  The rain had stopped, the sun was shining brightly, but a cloud had settled on Mary Ann’s chest, bringing a feeling of sickness with it. She sat down and waited for Mrs McBride’s appearance, wondering if she could say she didn’t want any griddle cake now because she was feeling sick. But she knew she mustn’t say this, she mustn’t hurt Mrs McBride. She must eat the griddle cake, even if it choked her.

  It was eleven o’clock when Mary Ann reached the church. She was ‘full up’ in more ways than one. She wouldn’t see Mrs McBride again for ages and ages. Mrs McBride had lifted her up and held her, and she had cried and pushed a whole half-crown into her hand, with strict orders to spend it, the lot. Her fingers now blindly picked out the half-crown from the coppers in her pocket. Mrs McBride was kind, she was; and she liked her da, she did. Oh, she was going to miss Mrs McBride.

  The church was empty except for two cleaners, women with long pinnies on and their hair tied up with scarves. They were washing the walls round behind St Anthony’s altar. Some feeling told Mary Ann that cleaners were out of place in a church; the church should need no cleaning by mortal hand, some act of God should keep the dust down and the floor clean. Slowly she approached the altar of the Holy Family; then knelt down and glued her eyes on the group of statuary. For as long as she could remember she had come to the Holy Family with her troubles, and even, at times, remembered to come with her joys. And now for the last time she knelt before them, and as they gazed down on her they looked as sad as she expected them to be…they knew she was going all right. The Infant moved in His Mother’s arms, and Mary hitched Him up closer to her and said softly, ‘Well, Mary Ann?’ And Mary Ann replied, ‘Oh, Blessed Mother Mary, I don’t want to go. Make something happen to stop me.’

  The Infant screwed round and looked down on Mary Ann, and Saint Joseph looked down on her, and Mother Mary herself. And they didn’t say a word between them, until the silence yelled in Mary Ann’s ears and she dropped her head.

  Then the Virgin said, ‘Look at me, Mary Ann.’ And Mary Ann looked up into the sweet and serious face of the Mother, and Mary said, ‘You have given your word. Moreover, Mr Lord has paid you in advance for your word. Do not let the Devil tempt you to break it, nor ask me to show him the way.’

  Mary Ann’s head drooped still further now. They weren’t nice a bit, and this was her last visit an’ all. Eeh, what was she saying? Eeh, she was sorry! Eeh, it was a wonder Our Lady didn’t strike her down dead…She’d light a candle.

  Still with her head bowed, she moved to the half-moon of candles that stood to the side of the altar rail and groping at the coins in her pocket she pulled out two, and, still with lowered eyes, dropped them into the box. But as the second one left her fingers a cry escaped her that rang through the empty church and brought the cleaners from behind the altar…she had put in her half-crown!

  A long time ago she had done something similar, but that had been only a sixpence. This was a fortune, a whole half-crown. She turned her back on the cleaners and looked accusingly up at the group above her. They had let her go and do it, and they were laughing—Saint Joseph’s beard was moving. It was nothing to laugh at; and she wasn’t going to leave it in, she wasn’t. She didn’t care. No, she didn’t! Candles were only twopence. She wanted her half-crown back, and then she’d light one—two perhaps—but she wanted her half-crown back first.

  Her thoughts gabbled in her head as she looked back down the church. She could see no signs of the cleaners now, they were well behind the altar. There was nobody here but herself. She’d get her half-crown out of the box, she would.

  The box, she saw, had only a little lock on the lid. Little or big, she knew she couldn’t hope to open it, but she could…tip it up, couldn’t she? Without further thought of the right or wrong of her actions and momentarily oblivious to the combined condemnation of the Holy Family, she lifted the box from its setting. And when she held it in her hand the cold iron burned her fingers. Anyway it set a spark to her conscience and she exclaimed, ‘Eeh!’ And again, ‘Eeh!’ But conscience or no conscience, and ‘Eeh!’ or no ‘Eeh!’ she was going to get her half-crown out. She only had to turn it upside-down, like you did with a money box. But where would she do it?

  She looked around her. If she went in one of the pews the women might hear her, even if they were behind the altar. This last brought a most helpful thought into her mind…why shouldn’t she, too, go behind the altar? They wouldn’t see her or hear her there. And she’d get her half-crown out and slip the box back and no-one would be any the wiser, except herself. And it would learn her to look at her money in future. Her ma was always telling her.

  But even with the decision determinedly taken, she found it needed a great deal of courage to walk up the steps and go behind the altar of the Holy Family. And, once there, the purpose for her presence was temporarily swept aside by the forbidding aspect of the place. The back of the altar looked mucky; and there was just enough room between it and the wall to allow for the movement of her elbows.

  Cautiously she knelt down and attacked the box by turning it sharply on its side. The sound of the coins filled the space and ricocheted off the walls upwards, and she followed its flight with startled eyes—the roof of the church, seen from this angle, appeared as far away as the sky—the sound eventually died away, and tensely she listened, with her teeth clamped down hard on her lip. But there was no other sound, of voices or footsteps. And so she again returned to her operation, but turning the box gently this time upside-down on the floor. After giving it a little shake she looked beneath it. There was nothing there. Slowly she raised it above her eyes…and yes, there it was, her half-crown! She could see it lying partly across the slot, its shine outdoing that of the penny which blocked the other half…What she wanted was a knife—when her ma emptied her Post Office Savings tin she used a knife. But she hadn’t a knife…Perhaps if she just tilted it slightly it would slide out. She tried this at some length, but holding the box above her head made her arms ache.

  ‘Bust!’ The exclamation of exasperation was whispered, and she sat back on her heels with the box on her lap and asked herself what she was going to do next.

  But she was never to know, for the voice of God hit her on the back of the neck, knocking her on her face and sending the box spinning into the air. And as it clattered down again, almost braining her, she screamed, and the voice came thundering over her, crying, ‘Get up! Get up! Come out of that!’

  Being unable to turn, slowly with jangling limbs, she crawled backwards. Then God lifted her clean off the floor by the collar of her coat and swung her round to Him. And her hat fell off backwards and she was looking up into the startled face of Father Owen, whose mouth was agape and whose voice was so high that it came out of the top of his head as he cried, ‘For the love of God…Mary Ann!’

  Mary Ann tried to swallow, but she found the process impossible, for here, one on each side of the priest, stood the cleaners. And it was the look in their eyes that was restricting her breath as much as the shock she had just experienced.

  ‘I told you, Father, it was the way she came in. We watched her, didn’t we?’ one woman enquired of the other across Father Owen. ‘And all the bairns at school…we thought it was funny, didn’t we?’

  ‘Aye. And I said, “Go and get Father Owen,” didn’t I? Because if anything goes we’ll get the blame, I’ve had some.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ The priest
held up his hand, silencing the women. Then still holding Mary Ann by the shoulder, he said, ‘Tell me, Mary Ann.’

  ‘Me…me…’ The lump moved but wouldn’t go, and she gasped and coughed. And the priest, thumping her on the back, said, ‘There, there. Now tell me.’

  ‘Me half-crown, Father…I—I dropped it in—instead of a penny…I was only trying to get it out.’

  The priest’s hold slackened and he straightened his long, thin length, looked almost furtively from one woman to the other, coughed and blew his nose so loudly that the noise re-echoed off the back of the altar and filled the church again before he said, ‘Why didn’t you come and tell me?’

  ‘I—I didn’t know where to find you afore dinner time. You’re always out.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Well, go in there and bring me that box, we’ll get your half-crown out.’ He pushed her towards the back of the altar again, and as she disappeared he turned to the women and said, ‘You did quite right, quite right. But you see it has been explained.’

  The women, as if both worked by the same string, put their heads slightly on one side and surveyed the priest, as if seeing someone who called forth their pity. Then the same string turned them about and they went slowly up the church back to their work.

  Father Owen, sighing and looking once more down on Mary Ann where she stood, the picture of guilt, with the box in her hand, said, ‘You’ll be the death of me one of these days, child. Of that I’m sure as I am of being alive at this moment, and also of being taken for a dopey old imbecile by certain ladies I won’t give a name to. Come along.’

  In the vestry Father Owen did not immediately open the box but, sitting himself down, he looked gravely on Mary Ann, which added much to her already heavy sense of sin.

  ‘You realise, Mary Ann, you’ve done a very serious thing?’

  ‘But, Father…’ It was a small protest.

  ‘Never mind, “But Father…”’ The priest’s hand was raised now, his fingers spread wide, an action, Mary Ann recognised instantly, that was kept only for bad hats, them that broke windows in the school and, deadly sickening thought, stole.

  ‘Was it such a sacrifice to give half a crown to the Holy Family?’ The priest stared hard at her. ‘If I’m to believe all I hear, they’ve done a lot for you. Just think of all the wonderful things that have happened in the past few months…think.’

  The last was a command, and Mary Ann thought. She thought hard. But the only thing that came to her mind was the event of her da losing his hand. They had let that happen, hadn’t they? And then they had got her into this trouble now. Eeh! What was the matter with her…she’d go to hell. This thought, added to the misery of her impending departure, and the expression on the face of her beloved priest, was too much. She burst into a storm of tears.

  Quickly Father Owen brought her to his knee, all sternness gone. ‘There, there! Now, don’t cry. Come on…come on.’

  But Mary Ann’s head was pressed into his waistcoat, and it was some time, however, before he could induce her to stop. When finally, smiling and sobbing, she drew away from him, he said, ‘Aw, look at your face now! Here, let me wipe it.’

  As he plied his handkerchief round her face Mary Ann gazed up at him and jerked out, on recurrent sobs, ‘I didn’t mean it, Father. I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘No, no, of course you didn’t. It was the Devil tempting you and you weren’t ready for him. That’s how it was.’

  Yes, that’s how it must have been. For Mary Ann, looking back, couldn’t see herself doing anything so awful as to take the candle box behind the altar and try to empty it. Not for all the half-crowns in the world could she have done it on her own. It was the Devil all right that had pushed her into that.

  ‘I don’t want the half-crown, Father, not now.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll have your half-crown…The Holy Family would be the last to want to make on you. Come and sit down, child.’ He drew her up onto the bench and to his side. ‘There now.’ He looked her over. ‘I see you’ve got on your fine clothes already for tomorrow. But look at the bottom of your coat, it’s all dust.’ He brushed it off; then, without looking at her, said, ‘You’ll be starting a new life tomorrow, Mary Ann.’ He went on brushing lightly with his hand, and when there was no answer to his comment he added, ‘Are you excited?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘No?’ He stopped his brushing.

  ‘No, Father. I don’t want to go.’

  Now the priest’s head turned quickly, and they confronted each other. ‘Have you told your mother this…or…or your da?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  The priest stretched himself upwards before saying, ‘That’s a good girl, because this time next week things’ll look different altogether. Believe me, they will. And just think where you’re going…one of the finest convents in the country, and Mr Lord’s own sister Mother Superior. Why, you’re a very lucky girl. Not many get your chance, Mary Ann.’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘And it will all work out beautifully.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Would it? It was undoubtedly a chance of a lifetime, and would have very favourable results on ninety-nine children out of a hundred, but the priest had a fear in him that this child would be the hundredth. Old Lord had a bee in his bonnet where she was concerned, and if she pleased him her future was as sure as anything on this earth could be. But he was counting without Mike…But no, that was wrong; it was because the old fellow had counted Mike and saw him as an opponent to his plans that he had picked on this convent so far away. The fact that it was run by his sister was merely an excuse, for he hadn’t spoken to her since she had come over into the Faith thirty years ago. If it was education alone he was after for the child, there were fine schools and convents near that would have answered his purpose just as well. Father Owen shook his head at his thoughts. It was diabolical but he felt, nevertheless, true that old Lord’s idea was to separate the child from her father for as long as possible, hoping that a different environment would estrange her from her present surroundings…and, through it, lift her affection and loyalty, not forgetting love, away from Mike and onto the higher plane of himself. Oh, he knew Peter Lord, and he knew that this was the substance of his scheme. Yet nothing could be done about it, for if the child didn’t comply there would be a heap of trouble for that family again. And the awkward part was that the mite was fully aware of this. Oh dear, yes…yes, she was aware of it all right.

  ‘Well, Mary Ann’—Father Owen pulled down his slack waistcoat—‘I envy you I do, going to the South of England. I was back there meself many years ago—at both Bexhill and Hastings I stayed—and, as I remember, the air was so fine it went to my head like wine and put me to sleep. I couldn’t keep myself awake night or day…I was properly doped. I just couldn’t keep awake.’

  ‘Couldn’t you, Father?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t. And now, my child’—he took her two hands in his—‘you won’t forget us all in this fine school?’

  ‘Oh no, Father—never.’ Her head moved slowly from side to side with the truth of this statement.

  ‘Nor your ma, and of course, your da.’

  ‘Forget me ma and da!’ Her voice was full of incredulity, and a little smile that could have held pity touched her lips. ‘Forget me da!’

  ‘Of course you won’t!’ The priest’s voice was hearty. ‘But you mustn’t underestimate our friend.’ He bent above her with a thumb in each ear and his fingers splayed outwards as he said, ‘You know, Old Nick. Not that he’s any friend of mine, although he’s tried to take up with me for years.’ He laughed down on her now. ‘The Devil, Mary Ann, let me tell you, has many guises…do you know that?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Well he has. He gets dressed up like so many different people that you don’t know who he’s going to take off next. He’s the unfairest specimen that ever walked. For instance…’ The priest looked up at the vestry ceiling as if searching for some case with which to de
monstrate his point. ‘Well, for instance, should you ever meet a nice man whom you don’t know and he offers you some sweets and asks you to go for a walk’—down dropped his eyes to Mary Ann, and his voice dropped too, as he ended—‘Rest assured, Mary Ann, that will be the Devil.’

  ‘It will, Father?’

  ‘It will…Or he may be driving a car and want to give you a ride. That will be him again. As sure as life that will be him. Or he may not be dressed as a man at all, he may be got up as a woman; or a girl even; but whatever guise he puts on, as soon as he opens his mouth and starts to tempt you to do something that your heart tells you isn’t right you can be sure it’s him, no matter what he’s wearing.’

  Mary Ann’s world suddenly became peopled with devils, with an easily recognised one right in the forefront, and she helped the priest in his illustration by saying somewhat eagerly, ‘I know, like Sarah Flannagan, Father.’

  ‘Not at all, not at all.’ The priest stood up quickly, his voice brusque now. ‘Sarah’s got no more of the Devil in her than you have. There’s fifty-fifty twixt you and her, believe me.’ He nodded sharply down at her.

  This assault, unfair as it surely was, obliterated even the candle box incident and made her think, ‘Well, would you believe it!’

  Father Owen’s hand descended on her head, and at the look on her face his mirth rang out, and he cried, ‘Come along with you, or else I’ll never get any work done today. And here’—he put his hand in his pocket—‘here’s your half-crown; I’ll settle with the Holy Family later. How’s that?’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Father.’ She was slightly mollified.