"Who wore the dress?" Sister Mary Joseph demands quietly.
voice is heard inside the convent. Sister Mary Joseph turns to face her
audience. All eyes fixate on the floor, praying for a scapegoat, someone
to frame themselves. Some are used to this and well prepared, simply
recite "my father's freedom", the school's mantra in their heads, not
allowing themselves to be pulled into the hypnotic oasis of Sister Mary
Joseph's silent grasp. Time seems to stand still, endless horizons
Gradually a snuffle is heard at the back of the
hall. They all know the guilty party is to the front, so someone is
cracking under the pressure. Sister Mary Joseph is good at that, her
sense of purpose is tantalising.
A voice stammers and sniffles, "it wasn't me!"
not, but the atmosphere is changed, now that girl will be the
scapegoat. Sister Mary Joseph is poised to pounce with the same ferocity
that a hungry lioness would attack a lame zebra. And the girls know that
their innocence depends wholly on her perceived guilt.
The copyright of this post belongs to Jenni Crowe