Chapter 15

The Ladies of Purity Catholic School was run by nuns. To be accurate, it was mostly run by five malicious old witches who had been nuns for long enough to forget they were human. They had ten novices from Ireland to help them. Since the novices were far from home, penniless and entirely reliant on the school, they were as good as slaves. The punishments of the pupils was severe. More severe than any of the visiting triumvirate could approve, even before they saw any. The Mother Superior happily showed them the thick leather belt that was used to beat the girls black and blue for minor offences. “Oh to be sure, an unmarked girl is a spoilt girl.” Explained the evil old crone with a smile. It wasn’t that she obtained some sexual release from beating the buttocks, legs and backs of girls, she was a sadist who simply enjoyed causing pain ‘for God’. “The more we suffer, the more the Lord approves of our love for Him.” was one of her more well-known (if meaningless) comments during a punishment session. “Sure and the novices need to be trained too.”

“You train them to beat the girls?” asked Mrs Dolmaine, incredulously.

“Only later. No I meant that sometimes they need to be brought into line with a good thrashing. They always thank me after.” Of course they did, they received another beating for rudeness if they did not. “Ah, two girls and a novice are due to be reprimanded in the hall today. The school will be assembled to watch Father Brown administer the punishment.”

“You ... you allow a man to beat them?” asked Mrs Bellingham-Pargetter, “Surely that is not appropriate?”

“Father Brown is a man of God. He has no proclivities in that respect.” replied the nun, looking pointedly at Mr Small.

“Nevertheless, Mother Superior, I really feel this must stop. The belt is very extreme.” He knew he was being somewhat hypocritical. But he also knew there had to be limits. She appeared not to be willing to back down, so he extended the truth. “If this goes ahead, I have been told that any cases of unreasonable cruelty must be referred to the authorities.”

“Well, then, we shall consult the Bishop, so we will. Perhaps you will feel happier if such a holy man as he gives his permission.”

“Madam!” said Mrs Dolmaine, ready for a battle of wills “Perhaps you need reminding that the established church in this country is not the Church of Rome. You are subject to the laws of this land, not those of the Pope. You shall desist from these savage beatings! Perhaps the Irish peasants benefit, but even the Catholic children of this nation deserve better.” This was way beyond what Jack Small would ever have said. Yet perhaps it did bring the Mother Superior up short. She stared at Mrs Dolmaine with a look that would have had her burned in past centuries. Henrietta Dolmaine nearly said as much, but then thought that might be going too far. She stood and looked firm. It was agreed that the punishment would not take place, that the Bishop would meet Jack in the bishop’s office (“I am not so Small as to refuse to go to him” he said with a laugh) and discuss the level of punishment that might be appropriate.