February 1965
"I don't want to go back."
The words that had sprung forth from her mouth in response to Sister Hilda that afternoon at lunch replayed in her mind as she sat nursing a feverish toddler in her arms. It was 2am and a gentle powder of snow was beginning to drift past the large windows of the orphanage's infirmary. Winter fevers had been spreading amongst the children since just after New Year, and it had been all hands on deck with cold flannels and Calpol.
In the subsequent fourteen months since that afternoon when she expressed her desire to not return to Poplar, Sister Winifred's life had been transformed. She had found herself largely confined to the orphanage, only leaving to carry out her share of the errands or for a reinvigorating stroll along the windswept, wave-battered beach on the edge of the Mother House's land. Her only trip away from Chichester itself had been to the baptism of Molly's son, her godson, David. Last time she was at the Mother House she wanted nothing more than to escape it. She wondered how her younger self might have reacted to her overwhelming desire to return to its confines only a few years later.
She loved her work at the orphanage, she truly did. She loved the children and as much as she missed him terribly, she could not have been more pleased when Neil, the little boy she first supported, was finally adopted into a family who could see past his wheelchair and his additional needs and loved him for who he is. But as the late Mother Jesu knew all too well, her desire for freedom would never diminish. Mother Mildred seemed less sympathetic to the idea. When mentioning one afternoon that she had not been outside the Mother House's grounds for three and a half weeks, Sister Winifred received a quizzical look and a gruff, "I thought you wanted to be here?" from her Superior.
"Hmmmm, little one," she purred into the ear of the dozing child in her arms, "what are we to do?"
Her eyes flitted over to the crucifix which hung on the wall above her, the brass figure of Christ catching the light from the corridor.
"Oh Lord," she pleaded, "show me the way."
September 1965
"And, now that the worst of the typhoon season is mercifully over, I will be leaving for Hong Kong at the earliest convenience."
Sister Winifred had drifted off into a daydream at some point during Mother Mildred's post-breakfast monologue; it, like so much of her work, had started promising but soon turned into monotony.
"A series of crises and additional pressures facing our Sisters in Hong Kong may mean that I am away from the Mother House for an extended period. I will be leaving you all in the very capable hands of Sister Ada."
Murmurs erupted around the table. Sister Ada, a kindly-looking woman of about fifty allowed herself a small beam of pride.
What possessed Sister Winifred to do what she did next she did not know. Over the murmuring and general kerfuffle, she called out "can I come?"
Silence immediately descended and every whimpled head within the long refectory turned towards her. When no further responses were forthcoming, Sister Winifred repeated the question.
"Can you come?" Mother Mildred reiterated, "to where?"
"To Hong Kong," Sister Winifred replied.
"What the devil for?" Mother Mildred spat back, perhaps a little more unkindly than she had meant it to sound.
"I want to help," Sister Winifred replied, truthfully, "did you not just say that our Sisters there need all the support that they can get?"
"Hong Kong is a dangerous..." Mother Mildred began.
"Worse than the worst tenements in the East End?" Sister Winifred shot back at her.
"There are challenges in Hong Kong far worse and far more troubling than anything you would have seen in the East End," Mother Mildred replied, her tone softening slightly, "I pray to God that such evil does not find its way to our shores."
"Is anyone else willing to go?" Sister Winifred asked, boldly, standing up and scanning the room before her.
The refectory remained as silent as a tomb.
"I would not want to put any of you through such an experience," Mother Mildred replied, "I only go because I know what I am letting myself in for."
"And what if something happens to you?" Sister Winifred asked, "what would happen then? Would we abandon our Sisters in Hong Kong because we're too scared of the unknown?"
"That is for God to know, and for us to discern," Mother Mildred replied.
"What if God is calling me to go to Hong Kong?"
"God calls you all over the place," came a voice from the back of the room. Jeers and laughter erupted in places.
"Now, now!" Mother Mildred commanded. Silence immediately descended. After a moment, Mother Mildred continued, "this is not a decision that can be made lightly. Your work and expertise are both greatly needed and greatly valued here. But I cannot deny that help and expertise are greatly needed in Hong Kong also, nor that I am getting any younger. The journey I am already dreading. We will both sleep on this and, if by the end of the week, your desires remain unwavering and I have not thought of an excuse not to take you, we will travel to Hong Kong together."
Murmuring erupted again around the breakfast table. Sister Winifred lowered herself into her seat. A strange sensation knotted in her stomach, a combination of elated excitement and existential dread. But somehow, she knew. She knew that God was on her side and that everything would be well.
Ten days later, Sister Winifred found herself and Mother Mildred stood on the dockside at Tilbury, staring up at the facade of SS Chitral, their temporary home and mode of transport to Hong Kong. The long voyage was not worrying Sister Winifred, she had made it to and from South Africa with no long-term damage, but what she might find at the end of it.
"Ready?" Mother Mildred asked, kindly.
"As I'll ever be!" Sister Winifred chirped as convincingly as she could manage.
"All aboard!" came Mother Mildred's enthusiastic reply as she set off towards the ship.