Regenesis

Katie - Church comeuppance

The rear doors swished shut behind them, and Katie was faced with the now empty vestibule with the cubby-holes almost filled with hats, an empty umbrella stand and a table with some lost property on it. Katie was brought to a mat against a wall, just like the one she had stood on countless times before with the imprints of feet on it, and was directed to stand on it while the rein was removed from her wristlet. She didn't need to be told to assume the fingertips position. As she did, she felt her skirts and petticoats ride up her legs and the Sunday knickers stretched over her legs causing the plastic pants to crackle below. She hated this position almost more than any other as it combined public humiliation with enforced control, always facing away from passers-by, making the girl almost inanimate, an object or ornament to be noted and passed by. Being made to put your arms and fingers in such an unnatural position spoke of ritual and compulsion, and the consequent lifting of the already short dress with its childish flounces beneath only served to enhance that.

Miss Anderson turned the sign on the door of the reflection room to show "occupied" before entering it and closing the door behind her. In the background Katie could hear the sounds of the service going on without her, and she could only imagine what was going through the minds of her parents and sister as they watched her being dragged out of the church in full view of everyone. She stared at the blank wall in front of her and then shifted her eyes to the right where there was the customary noticeboard advertising the upcoming bring and buy sale, a call for volunteers to help clean the church for Easter, and various other local matters. Unlike any church she had ever visited, all the notices and posters were neatly arranged with no dog ears and nothing seemingly out of date. Every edge was aligned and drawing pins were of a uniform colour: like everything else in this town, the noticeboard was an example of the care and exactitude expected throughout. She was just leaning to one side to read the details of an embroidery group, when the door opened and Miss Anderson stood on the threshold with a face like thunder. She stood to one side and pointed inside wordlessly. Uncertainly, Katie lowered her arms and turned towards her guardian. "Were you given permission to lower your arms?" She whispered with irritation. "No, Ma'am" and Katie resumed the position sidling past her guardian, into the darkened room, cowering under her stare. She knew she was in trouble by the anger on her guardian's face and she deeply regretted the impulsive action of waving to her sister. The room was deceptively large, but with only one small stained glass window, high up, looking on to the street, through which a shaft of coloured light now shone onto the opposite wall. Around the sides of the room were some small items of furniture, a metal cupboard and two chairs: no one had been to any trouble to make this comfortable in any way. What struck Katie most was the old wooden 'prie dieu' kneeler sitting squarely in the middle of the room with a wooden long-handled hairbrush sitting on top. She had seen them in the small side-chapels inside old churches before but never up close. The top ledge was dark wood shined by years of penitent elbows as their users had presumably knelt and prayed. The red cushion for the knee was slightly faded by the sun and use, and looked like it had little padding left, especially where two clear knee dents had been made over the years. Miss Anderson gestured towards another mat against a wall with the familiar footstep silhouette, this time facing into the room and Katie tottered towards it, her arms still up at fingertips. "Why do you imagine I have taken you out of Mass, little girl?"

"Umm....I was badly behaved, Miss?"

"Specifically?"

"I waved to my sister, Miss"

"Waved.....? During the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass? How dare you be so disrespectful? What in heaven do you think people must have thought? How do you think that reflects on me? How do you think that reflects on your poor family who have come here to visit you today, and are treated to a spectacle like that? I wouldn't be surprised if they get straight back into their car and go home without even saying a word to you. I am so disappointed in you. Go to the kneeler, this instant!"