Birgitta the Nun

Part 60 - Petra

Unawares, the abbess entered. She took the whole scene in with one glance - Pristine, standing in the middle of the room, with dust and furniture swirling around her; Madeleine, crawling on the floor with a cheque between her teeth - before she continued on her way towards the kitchen. Neither Pristine nor Madeleine noticed her. They were too busy with their disorderly fight against who-knows-what.

The abbess kicked the door open to the kitchen, but no one was there to receive her. The facility stood empty, or so it seemed. Petra hadn't left her territory - oh no - she was merely hiding in a cupboard. All curled up, she looked like a scared little animal. With her arms around her legs, she rested her chin against her knees. The sound of distinct clangs and a vicious thunder now and again penetrated the walls, and Petra shuddered every time the noise reached her. Some loud crash - probably a heavy piece of furniture falling to the floor - made her flinch and shrink away even more.

"Petra," the abbess said, as she opened the cupboard door, "I think you need to have a word with your mother. Hey - I can see you, you know. Please open your eyes."

"Is this a joke?" Petra replied, but did not leave her safe hiding place inside the cupboard. She put her hand out, reached for the door, but the scuffle of her fingers only pushed it further away.

"No, this isn't a joke. You know what I mean."

Petra's fingers continued to search the air for the cupboard door.

The abbess pushed it further away.

The cook stretched her arm till it hurt.

"Petra—?" the abbess offered. "Don't make this any harder than it already is."

Petra let her arm fall. Some minutes passed in silence, then she climbed out of her hiding-place on the wall. The abbess joined her as she took a seat at a small table. She watched the sad figure sigh, put her elbow on the table, her chin in his hand.

"But she—" Petra hesitated. "But she's gone." Her eyes suddenly flashed and she looked as if considering fleeing.

"No, she is not," the abbess stared Petra straight in the face. "She's got your back, right here at the monastery. But she oughtn't be here, you know—" the abbess checked herself. "She wasn't even a nun."

Petra looked hurt, but made no reply.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" the abbess continued. "Don't you like it here at the monastery? Would you rather be working at a proper establishment?"

Petra still wouldn't reply.

The abbess turned and took a look at the kitchen, to see what it was she was dealing with. It was a neat and tidy little kitchen, clean to the last spot. The walls and benches held no abundance of tools, yet nothing seemed to be missing. She saw it was very much possible to make some decent cooking in here. The area was small but the space still good - large enough to give room for creative activity, but small enough to keep clean without breaking one's back.

"I see," the abbess said, "it's the additional cleaning of the monastery—it's too much work for an orderly person like you?" Then, she snorted, "You really are a neat one aren't you? You would have to fuss about like a fruitcake to come close to this cleanness," she indicated the shiny kitchen. "I'll hire a janitor to do it. Don't bother. Stick to your kitchen, and I'll see to the order of the rest of the building."

Petra lifted her vacant stare from the floor and settled it on the abbess. She parted her lips, as if to say something, changed her mind, and closed them again. Approval, however, shone in her eyes.

"Now—will you have a word with your mother?" the abbess demanded. "Please, explain your new and less heavy routines to her. She can't go around making a mess of the place—though she likes keeping things neat and clean, she brings a lot of chaos. Have you seen the northeast passage—only just now? It's a mayhem. The wall is torn apart, a painting is destroyed, and a chandelier is smashed to the floor—what in the world made her act up like that? Now, I won't have it that way. Let her pick one room - and one room only - then make her stay put. Otherwise we'll be forced to send her away. And by sending away, I mean bringing in an exorcist."

Petra nodded and got up from her seat. But before she could leave, the abbess added:

"Don't try and be a preacher—you know that won't work. Let the leader lead. But show her that you are safe—that you are taken care of."

And indeed, Petra seemed to know exactly what to do. She ran off as fast as she could, aiming for her family matter.

The hurricane-infested dining hall welcomed the newcomer with a curtain-rod, sailing across the air. Petra got hit in the arm and let out a helpless cry. The familiar sound - the voice of her daughter - reached Pristine's ears, and she paused to listen. The storm also paused. For a minute everything stood still. Pristine took a deep breath. Then, the storm subsided. The room stopped quivering. Furniture, released from the storm in mid-air, fell to the floor all around Pristine, almost crushing her. But she didn't pay attention. It was all about her girl now.

She looked at her daughter with worried eyes. Petra pleaded, and the mother followed. Nothing more was said, but together they left the room. Silence took over.

Madeleine was left alone in the chaotic dining hall. She stopped her crawling, released the check from her jaws, and stretched it towards the disappearing Pristine. Now what?