What Happened To Alanna: Part Three Of Three

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Welcome back to What Happened to Alanna?

A lovely story by Kathleen Norris.

We're going to be listening to part three tonight,

And that's the final part of the story.

But before I begin,

Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.

And as you probably remember,

Alanna has managed to sell all the tickets in her book.

Alanna was too happy to talk,

But the other three had much to say.

Mother thinks we'll make $800,

Said Teresa.

Gee,

Said the twins together,

And Dan added,

If only Mrs Church wins that desk now.

Who's going to do the drawing of numbers,

Jimmy wondered.

Bishop,

Said Dan,

And he'll call down from the platform.

Number 26 wins the desk.

And then Alanna will look in her book and pipe up and say,

Daniel Ignatius Costello,

The handsomest fellow in the parish,

Wins the desk.

26 is Harry Plummer,

Said Alanna seriously,

Looking up from her chance book,

At which they all laughed.

But take care of that book,

Warned Teresa as she climbed down.

Oh,

I will,

Responded Alanna fervently.

And through the next four happy days,

She did and took the precaution of tying it by a stout cord to her arm.

Then on Saturday,

The last afternoon,

Quite late,

When her mother had suggested that she go home with Leo and Jack and Frank and Gertrude and the nurses,

Alanna felt the cord hanging loose against her hand.

And looking down,

She saw that the book was gone.

She was holding out her arms for her coat when this took place,

And she went cold all over.

But she didn't move,

And Minnie buttoned her in snugly and tied the ribbons of her hat with cold,

Hard knuckles without suspecting anything.

Then Alanna disappeared,

And Mrs Costello sent the maids and babies on without her.

It was getting dark and cold for the small Costellos,

But the hour was darker and colder for Alanna.

She searched and she hoped and she prayed,

But in vain.

She stood up after a long hands and knees expedition under the tables where she'd been earlier and pressed her right hand over her eyes and said aloud in her misery,

Oh,

I can't have lost it.

I can't have.

Oh,

Don't let me have lost it.

She went here and there as if propelled by some mechanical force,

A wretched,

Restless little figure.

And when the dreadful moment came when she must give up searching,

She crept in beside her mother in the carriage and longed only for some honourable death.

When they all went back at eight o'clock,

She recommenced her search feverishly with that cruel alternation of hope and despair and weariness that everyone knows.

The crowds,

The lights,

The music,

The laughter and the noise and the pervading odour of popcorn were not real when a shabby brown little book was her whole world and she could not find it.

The drawing will begin,

Said Alanna,

And the bishop will call out the number.

And what will I say?

Everyone will look at me and how can I say I've lost it?

Oh,

What a baby they'll call me.

Father will pay the money back,

She said in sudden relief.

But the impossibility of that swiftly occurred to her and she began hunting again with fresh terror.

But he can't.

How can he?

Two hundred names and I don't know them or half of them.

Then she felt the tears coming and she crept in under some benches and cried.

She lay there a long time listening to the curious hum and buzz above her.

And at last it occurred to her to go to the bishop and tell this old kind friend the truth.

But she was too late.

As she got to her feet,

She heard her own name called from the platform in the bishop's voice.

Where's Alanna Costello?

Ask her who has the number 83 on the desk.

83 wins the desk.

Find little Alanna Costello.

Alanna had no time for thought.

Only one course of action occurred to her.

She cleared her throat.

Mrs.

Will Church has that number,

Bishop,

She said.

The crowd about her gave way and the bishop saw her,

Rosy,

Embarrassed and breathless.

Ah,

There you are,

Said the bishop.

Who has it?

Mrs.

Church,

Your grace,

Said Alanna calmly this time.

Well,

Did you ever,

Said Mrs.

Costello to the bishop.

She had gone up to claim a mirror she had won,

A mirror with a gold frame and lilacs and roses painted lavishly on its surface.

Gee,

I bet Alanna was pleased about the desk,

Said Dan in the carriage.

Mrs.

Church nearly cried,

Teresa said.

But where'd Alanna go to?

I couldn't find her until just a few minutes ago and then she was so strange.

It's my opinion she was dead tired,

Said her mother.

Look how sound she's asleep.

Carry her up,

Frank.

I'll keep her bed in the morning.

They kept Alanna in bed for many mornings,

For her secret weighed on her soul and she failed suddenly in colour,

Strength and appetite.

She grew weak and nervous.

One afternoon,

When the bishop came to see her,

Worked herself up into such a frenzy that Mrs.

Costello wonderingly consented to her entreaty that he should not come up.

She would not see Mrs.

Church,

Nor go to see the desk in its new house,

Nor speak of the fair in any way.

But she did ask her mother who swept out the hall after the fair.

I did a good deal myself,

Said Mrs.

Costello,

Dashing one hope to the ground.

Alanna leaned back in her chair,

Sick with disappointment.

One afternoon,

About a week after the fair,

She was brooding over the fire.

The other children were at the matinee,

Mrs.

Costello was out,

And a violent storm was whirling about the nursery windows.

Presently,

Annie the Laundress put her frowzy head in at the door.

She was a strange warm-hearted Irish girl.

Her big arms were still streaming from the tub,

And her apron was wet.

Ah,

Alone,

Said Annie,

With a broad smile.

Yes,

Come in,

Won't you Annie,

Said little Alanna.

I can't,

I'm at the tubs,

Said Annie,

Coming in nevertheless.

I was doing all the tablecloths and napkins,

And out drops your little book.

Why,

What did you say,

Said Alanna,

Very white.

Your little book,

Said Annie.

She laid the chance book on the table,

And proceeded to mend the fire.

Alanna sank back in her chair.

She twisted her fingers together,

And tried to think of an appropriate prayer.

Thank you,

Annie,

She said weakly,

When the Laundress went out.

Then she sprang for the book.

It slipped twice from her cold little fingers before she could open it.

Eighty-three,

She said hoarsely.

Sixty,

Seventy,

Eighty-three.

She looked and looked and looked.

She shut the book,

And opened it again,

And looked.

She laid it on the table,

And walked away from it,

And then came back suddenly,

And looked.

She laughed over it,

And cried over it,

And thought how natural it was,

And how wonderful it was,

All in the space of ten blissful minutes.

And then,

With returning appetite and colour and peace of mind,

Her eyes filled with pity for the wretched little girl who had watched this same sparkling,

Delightful fire so drearily a few minutes ago.

Her small soul was steeped in gratitude.

She crooked her arm,

And put her face down on it,

And sank to her knees.