Blue didn’t know how it happened but bit by bit she found herself watching out for little Molly. At first she tried to pretend it was just because she pitied her, but after a while she realised it was more than that: she cared about her and wanted to protect her as if she was her own little sister. It was a bit like Mary, whose little brother Tommy was also in Larch Hill.
‘She’s always following you around,’ joked Mary. ‘She’s like your shadow. Just like Tommy.’
Blue had smiled, secretly pleased, knowing that it was true. The two looked nothing like each other: Molly’s dark curly hair and deep brown eyes were in total contrast to her own straight hair, wide face and blue eyes, yet there was something about the little girl that made Blue want to help her. It was almost like having a little sister.
She warned Lil and Mary and Jess to be kind to her and tried to get Molly to mix with the other girls her own age.
‘Go on and play with them,’ she begged one day. But Molly was shy and awkward, and hung back. ‘Why won’t you play hopscotch with the others, Molly? Go and have some fun with your friends,’ she urged, wishing the little girl would take the first few steps to making new friends instead of always standing back, alone, in the schoolyard or the recreation room. But Molly just stood there, shy and quiet, her brown eyes looking sad and hurt as she watched all the others having fun.
‘She’s a strange little thing,’ said Lil, ‘but she’ll settle.’
Blue wasn’t so sure.
‘Why can’t I just play with you?’ Molly asked Blue.
‘Because you need to get to know the kids in your class, the ones your own age.’
‘But I don’t like them, and they don’t like me.’
‘You just don’t know each other yet, that’s all,’ Blue sighed impatiently.
‘Why does everyone call you Blue?’ asked Molly, changing the subject.
‘My real name is Bernadette Lourdes Una O’Malley,’ Blue explained, ‘but, because there were so many other girls called Bernadette and Bernie here, someone nicknamed me Blue when I was small. They said it was because I had the biggest and boldest blue eyes they ever saw! And the name stuck. But the nuns don’t like it, of course.’
‘I like it,’ said Molly.
‘Me too! Now, come on and we’ll go and see if anyone is on the swing in the back yard.’
* * *
Early one morning, before the mass bell had sounded, Blue stretched under the blankets. Molly was still fast asleep, her dark curly hair spread out on the pillow, her eyes closed.
‘Molly!’ she whispered. ‘Molly, wake up.’
Molly stirred, but curled up again immediately.
‘Molly, you have to wake up!’ she whispered more urgently.
Molly’s eyes opened slowly, her face changing, her eyes scrunching up.
Blue wrinkled her nose. It was too late. Molly had wet the bed. She was in trouble again.
‘Good morning!’ Sister Carmel burst into the dormitory, yanking the curtains open. Tall and thin, she was much younger than the rest of the nuns. ‘Out of bed immediately,’ she ordered, ‘or you’ll all be late for mass.’
The room filled with groans and complaints as the cold morning air greeted the girls.
Throwing back her coverlet, Blue slowly got out of bed.
‘Molly! Up at once!’ ordered the nun, striding over. Cautiously the little girl sat up, her cheeks red, her hair tousled. The nun grabbed hold of the floral bed cover and the blanket and pulled them back.
‘Ugh! Smelly!’ shouted Joan Doherty, a big, pimply-faced girl who loved to jeer at anyone younger and weaker than her.
Sister Carmel tore all the clothes off the bed, revealing the yellow-stained sheets.
‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ whispered Molly, standing, shaking in her wet nightdress.
‘Wet-a-bed! Wet-a-bed!’ The call went up from Joan and her friends. ‘Wet-a-bed! Wet-a-bed!’
‘Leave her alone!’ said Blue, wanting to go over and punch Joan in the jaw. ‘She’s only small. It was an accident.’
‘She has accidents every night!’ jeered Joan. ‘She should sleep in a nappy with the babies upstairs.’
Blue could feel the anger flare in her stomach. Molly had enough problems without Joan making things worse.
‘Come on, Molly,’ she offered. ‘I’ll take you to the bathroom.’
‘One minute, Bernadette,’ interrupted the nun. ‘Molly, strip the sheets off your bed and carry them down to the laundry room.’
Molly looked scared, like she was going to break down and cry. She pulled the sodden sheets off her bed and bundled them up in her arms. The room filled with the smell of urine as she walked out towards the landing.
‘Disgusting!’ sneered Joan.
Blue hated it, the daily humiliation of those who had wet their beds. She pitied Molly having to brave the jeers of the girls and the anger of the nuns. None of it was helping; constantly calling attention to Molly’s problem only seemed to be making it worse. She could hear the cat-calls from other dormitories at the other transgressors as they formed a line, all armed with their smelly, wet bedclothes. Molly joined them. Blue was washed and dressed and brushing her hair by the time the little girl got back. She watched as Molly began to pull on her school skirt and blouse.
‘Molly!’ she warned, ‘what about –’
‘I’ve no time to wash, I’m already late for mass,’ Molly interrupted. ‘I’ll just get into more trouble.’
‘No!’ insisted Blue. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to the bathroom and help you. Quick. Hurry up!’
Blue knew that the other kids in school and those who sat near Molly in the chapel were beginning to object to the strong smell coming from her.
The line of children for the washbasins had cleared by now, and Blue grabbed hold of a towel and some soap and soaped the little girl all over. Then she dried her briskly with the rough towel, before making her put on her underwear and uniform.
‘Now, that’s perfect,’ she smiled, as she tidied Molly’s hair with the brush.
Kneeling in the bench during morning mass she could guess what Molly was praying for. She could see it in her expression. Blue vowed to somehow try and help her to remember to wake up, get out of bed and go to the toilet.