Chapter Text
Enid looked around the room and let herself wonder if perhaps this was a mistake. She’d spent so much of the last few months trying to convince everyone else that this was what she wanted, what God wanted, that she hadn’t allowed herself to think that maybe they were right. Maybe this sort of life wasn’t for the likes of her.
When Enid had been twelve, when everyone including her had assumed that was the end of her numbers and letters, one of the teachers had pulled her aside and told her that she would be throwing something away if she didn’t even try for the scholarship. That if she stayed, she might be able to sit her exams. Maybe even go on to… Enid hadn’t known what a girl like her would do with exams, but that teacher had lit a spark in her and despite everything it hadn’t gone out.
Her father had only agreed to her staying on because she had been given a scholarship and so long as she’d kept up her other responsibilities. Enid worked two jobs around her school hours and had always been sure to help her mother around the house. The only thing that she really regretted about her decision now was that losing her eldest daughter would make her mother’s life harder. For as long as she could remember, her mother had been pregnant, or nursing, or both. There were twelve of them living in three rooms and her brothers were less than no help when it came to minding the little ones. But there was more to life than that, more ways that Enid could help folk like her mum than just seeing to the washing. And if she stayed at home, her father would have her married off soon enough and then she’d be stuck in the same cycle as her mother: endless children and the endless struggle to feed and clothe them.
Enid had started to work at the convent because the hours suited. The sisters were up at dawn and didn’t mind her arriving early to work so she could still make it home to get the little ones up dressed and out to school on time. She couldn’t remember exactly when she’d started arriving early enough to sit in the back of the chapel with them, but there had been something about that snatched peace…
The nuns she knew from back home hadn’t gone out much. They were a cloistered ordered not closed, but no matter how much Enid had relished the closeness she felt to God in those times, she knew that their life wasn’t for her. The idea that not all religious orders followed the same rules hadn’t occurred to her until Sister Martha had mentioned it in passing. Seeing her obvious surprise, the sister had explained that some nuns worked abroad, some ran schools and some of them worked with children.
The girls didn’t get much science at her school but Enid managed what they did get well enough. Better than French, that was for certain and she’d be beggared if she could see what use that was ever going to be to her. But when Sister Martha had spoken to her about an order that were also midwives and nurses, that fire her teacher had ignited when she was eleven had seemed to roar back into life.
So here she was, surrounded by a group of girls– young women– who couldn’t have been less like her if she tried and wondering if she’d made a horrible mistake.
“Welcome,” Sister Ada said, stepping into the room and clapping her hands to gather their attention. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you all before, but it is a joy to welcome you here to the Mother House to begin your journey with us. As postulants, we hope that you will learn and grow in your faith as well as test your calling to service with us here.
“There is no shame in having doubts or concerns. This is a period of great change in your lives and as long as you step forward in faith and are willing to give your whole heart to the endeavour, this year will bring you more than you can imagine - whether or not you continue on to become novitiates.” The fire in Enid seemed to surge at this. It didn’t matter that her dress was shabby and her shoes scuffed. It didn’t matter that her Bible was the only book she owned or that she’d never actually sat at a dining table like the one they were shown through to. If this was where God wanted her, then here she would be.
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Louise looked around the room and let herself wonder if perhaps this wasn’t a mistake. Her father had been desperate for her to leave it another year, longer even, but Louise had felt like she was suffocating. St Benedict's had been her whole world for eighteen months and while the care she’d received had been all anyone could have asked for, Louise just wanted more.
Two years ago, in what felt like another world, she remembered sitting at dinner with her parents and discussing what she might like to do. Back then, it had felt like the world was her oyster. The plan had been for her to come back to England to board and finish her schooling and then… Well she’d thought she might like to go to university. But then there had been an outbreak of enteric fever and… Louise had been unwell enough that she hadn’t even been aware that her mother had died until weeks after it had happened.
It had been weeks after that before she’d been well enough to be sent back to England with a nurse. Even then, what she remembered of the journey was… not pleasant. St Benedict’s was a sanatorium for young people and they’d had tutors, classes even, when she’d been well enough. It had taken a long time for her to be well enough to study and there had been more than one setback in the following months.
Louise understood why everyone, including her father when he’d last come to visit, had been so determined that she shouldn’t rush things. She knew that she looked like an invalid still. But she was so tired of the constraints, of people telling her that she shouldn’t expect so much, shouldn’t over extend herself by walking to the end of the drive to post a letter. She’d been clear of typhoid for a year now and wasn’t a risk to anyone else, so it was just her own delicate constitution that was holding her back. And more than one medical professional had told her that there wasn’t really anything wrong with her. She was just an invalid and that was only to be expected given what she’d been though.
Even with her compromised schooling, Louise had managed to achieve solid results in her final exams, but there was no hope of university any longer. The appeal of that path had faded though so the loss didn’t even really register in amongst all the other deprivations and indignities that filled her days. Instead, she had realised that what she wanted more than anything now was to help people. To make a difference and, despite her father’s bemusement, to know her Lord better. Somehow, in the midst of everything she felt such a call, such a desire to try and bring more of Christ’s light into the world. To dedicate herself to him in a practical way.
She had struggled to explain it to anyone, but the wife of the local minister came to visit regularly and she’d found herself suddenly pouring forth about her thoughts.
“There are many ways to serve the Lord,” Mrs Harris said thoughtfully when Louise had finally stopped. “And a secular life, parenthood, a career even, so long as Christ is at the heart of it can be one lived in service of God.” She’d realised though, presumably from the look on Louise’s face that wasn’t what she was longing for. And so, she’d helped Louise find out what other options were available.
The staff at St Benedict's hadn’t opposed the idea of a nunnery, though Louise had not perhaps made the nature of this particular order very open. It had been such a struggle to get here, to make it seem like a sensible choice and she felt in her very soul that this is where she should be. But now, surrounded by these others who all seemed so loud, so confident and so physically impressive. She realised as they stood there listening to Sister Ada’s welcome and then to her explanation of what the rest of the day would look like, that she never would have been expected to just stand for such a long time at St Benedict's. It shouldn’t be a problem, she realised watching the others in front of her, but she’d already done more today just by completing the journey here than she had in years probably.
By the time they were shown to the dining room, Louise’s limbs felt like lead and she sank onto the bench with relief. Even the smell of the food turned her stomach though and as they said grace Louise asked the Lord to sustain her and bless the next year she’d spend with these other young women.