Ma, I'm Gettin Meself a New Mammy

by Martha Long

  That face never saw paint or powder in its life, I thought, staring at her. Even her lips are white for the want of a bit of colour.

  ‘We will offer up our prayers also for your special intentions. Now, is that not a wonderful thing?’

  ‘No,’ I said, looking at her face, wondering why she is getting all confused. ‘Eh, I can’t wait te start praying, Sister!’

  ‘Yes! Of course!’ she breathed, the smile coming back to her face. ‘Do you have any special intentions you would like us to mention?’

  ‘Eh, yeah . . .’ I was trying te think, ‘I do,’ I said, me face lighting up at the thought of praying fat Dilly Nugent and the rest of her gang would end up splattered under a bus on O’Connell Street.

  ‘Well, we shall pray specially for your intentions,’ she breathed, tapping me gently on me shoulder and shaking her head slowly, raising her eyes up te Holy Mary. ‘Oh, now what is your name, dear? Are you from the convent?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh, I thought . . . Where are the rest of the girls?’ she said, looking at the window, hearing them cackle with the fellas up on the footpath.

  ‘They are up there talking te the fellas, the ones hanging around on the corners,’ I sniffed, looking disgusted. ‘The nuns wouldn’t allow that,’ I said. ‘No! Especially as Dilly Nugent seems te know him very well. I heard her asking him when did he get outa the reformatory school! The other fella, the older one, laughed and said he just got outa Mountjoy Prison after robbing an old lady’s handbag in the church . . . while she was praying!’

  ‘No!’ she gasped.

  ‘They’re not allowed te talk te fellas, never mind criminals like them,’ I snorted, wondering what she was going te do about it.

  ‘Indeed not!’ said the woman, lifting her head and shaking her shoulders, making straight for the door.

  ‘Hello! Are you a new girl?’ a woman asked me, with blackand- grey straight hair cut te her ears and parted te the side, clipped back off her face, like another old-age pensioner who still thinks she’s a girl. More bleeding ‘nuns if they could be’, so the next best thing is te live in the world but keep away from the men and pray all the time, and hit women with their rosary beads when they go astray, chasing after the men.

  ‘Please come in and don’t stay out there talking to those boys,’ said the woman, sounding very annoyed but getting nowhere with the girls.

  ‘Yeah! We’ll be in any minute now,’ shouted the girls, laughing and going back te their business of trying te get off with the fellas.

  ‘They are acting like strumpets!’ snorted the woman, coming back in holding her fists down by her sides then changing her face inta a smile and making for me.

  ‘Yeah! Strumpets!’ I said. ‘But ye wouldn’t catch me talking te any man.’

  ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘You are a lovely girl; I can see that straight away,’ she said, leaning her hand on me arm.

  ‘I haven’t told the nuns yet,’ I whispered, breathing inta her and smelling mints off her breath.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, all ears, giving me one, cocking her head te the side.

  ‘I am thinking of becoming a nun,’ I breathed.

  ‘Oh, how wonderful!’ she said, holding her chest and her breath.

  ‘Yes, Sister! But not just any order. I am thinking of entering the Brown Carmelites, an enclosed order. Naturally I will be taking a perpetual vow of silence.’

  ‘Ohhhh, the beauty of it! You will devote your life entirely to prayer!’

  ‘Yes, Sister. I have been practising by not speaking te the other girls. I came in te see you holy ladies in complete silence tonight!’

  ‘Ohhhh!’ she gasped, getting weak at the knees.

  I stared at her watery faded-blue eyes misting over at the thought of me being so holy. ‘Would you like a cup of tea and some biscuits?’ she said, putting her arm on me shoulder, and I could even smell the mothballs coming off her, too. The black jumper had patches on the elbows. Jaysus! These aul ones would put years on ye, I thought, feeling I was dead and buried already.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Sister,’ I said, heading over te the table with the plates of biscuits, while the pensioner with the sweetie-pie smile leaned her face inta me, handing me a white cup and saucer with strong-looking yellow tea.

  ‘Would you like a biscuit?’ she said, holding out a plate of mixed biscuits, with Kimberley and custard creams and plain Marietta.

  ‘Yes, please!’ I said, taking the plate, finding it too hard te choose and wanting the lot. Fuck them. They didn’t bother their arse coming in, so I’m going te eat me way through the lot.

  ‘Yes, em, we do have more,’ she said, smiling at me, creasing her face up and leaning her head over at me.

  I grinned back, saying, ‘The girls are probably not in the mood for biscuits anyway, Sister. They have more important things on their mind.’

  ‘Hm! We shall see about that,’ said the woman, glaring at the window, hearing the cows laughing their heads off at probably nothing.

  ‘We are ready to read the minutes of the last meeting,’ said one of the other women, coming over and whispering, wringing her hands and looking very worried. ‘The girls care not a jot for what we say to them, Sister Brigid! What shall we do?’ she said, swinging her head around at all the women organising their prayer books and rosary beads, and big books of the minutes probably, and putting new religious pamphlets inta the bookshelves.

  ‘Goodness! We shall be very late getting the rosary started, Sister Maeve,’ worried another grey-haired aul one, who was probably only in her thirties but made Matron Millington look more in the fashion compared with the get-up she was wearing.

  ‘Come in here right this minute, girls, or I shall ring the convent and speak to the Reverend Mother.’

  I listened te them shouting back they were coming and giving out like mad, not wanting te leave the fellas. I looked up, seeing more pairs a trousers, and said, ‘It looks like a gang of young fellas up there, Sister. I think ye should do something. I think the girls may be in great danger!’ I muffled through a mouthful of biscuits, trying te make short work of the lot, not wanting te leave any for the fat cows.

  ‘Oh dear! You may be right,’ shivered the Sister with the hair plastered back with the clips.

  ‘They are not used te being out in the world,’ I said, shaking me head in terrible fear for their souls. ‘They could be lost, lose their souls and end up like Saint Maria Goretti, getting themselves killed trying te protect their virginity!’

  ‘Oh my goodness! Go out at once and tell them to come in here!’

  ‘Who? Me?’

  ‘Yes! You are one of them, they will listen to you, surely?’

  ‘No, they can’t stand me,’ I said, looking very woebegone. ‘They certainly won’t, Sister. They laugh at me because I get up at the crack of dawn and go te Mass every morning. They jeer me for that, Sister,’ I sniffed, looking very sad.

  ‘Tut, tut! They are dreadful girls; look at them, Sisters. Brazen hussies! I intend to report them to the Reverend Mother at the first opportunity,’ she huffed, looking out the window at their legs standing close te the trousers. That’s all we could see, and hear the laughing and the pushing and shoving.

  ‘Oh, brazen hussies, Sisters,’ I said, shaking me head very sadly and looking at them piously. ‘It might be a good idea if we go te a phone box and ring the Reverend Mother right away,’ I said. ‘You never know, they might just get it inta their head te go off with them dangerous-looking fellas! Ye could be doing them a great favour in the long run. Saving them from hellfire and damnation!’

  I could get no good outa the aul ones. They stood staring at me after going inta shock. ‘It is yer duty as a . . . Legion of Mary!’

  ‘Ohhhh, what will we do?’ they whispered, hardly any strength left in them, standing like planks, staring at me with me mouth open, getting no movement outa them.

  ‘I know the phone number,’ I said te the silence, looking from one te the other, hopeful of get
ting the fat cows inta trouble.

  ‘No! If we make a complaint, then they would not be allowed out again, then we would lose them,’ yer woman with the red face said, squinting her eyes, calculating the loss and profit te herself.

  I went over te the table and put down the empty plate, picking up a full one and asking the woman staring at me helping meself te more biscuits off the last remaining plate and piling them on me own, ‘Could I have another drop a tea, Sister, please, thanks!’

  ‘Eh, yes,’ she said, staring at me plate, wanting te tell me te put half of them back.

  ‘I can’t wait te start the rosary,’ I said, leaning inta her with a big smile, me cheeks bulging with biscuits.

  ‘Eh, yes!’ she beamed, cheering up at the thought of all the prayers we were going te say.

  ‘And two sugars, Sister, thanks,’ I said, slipping the last of the biscuits off the plate onta me own.

  CHAPTER 19

  ‘Gawd! Do you think the Legion of Mary will report us to the nuns?’ worried Dilly Nugent, biting her lip then examining her little finger, biting that, too.

  ‘Oh gawd, we’ll really be in for it,’ moaned Pasty-face, staring with her beady eyes stretching outa her face. For once ye could actually see the colour of them. They’re muddy grey.

  ‘What will we say if they do, girls? Say it was one of the altar boys that come in to serve Mass in our place?’ croaked the Jane Mary one, flicking her lovely long blonde hair back from her shoulders and throwing a look over te see if the fellas standing outside the Gresham Hotel hoping te pick themself up a young one were maybe giving her the eye.

  ‘Look at him! He’s a fine thing,’ she muttered te the others, hoarse from all the laughing and shouting at what the gobshite good-for-nothing eejit young fellas were saying.

  She has no sense. Otherwise she wouldn’t even look at them wasters, I thought te meself, giving a look back and seeing the bus coming just as we passed the Gresham Hotel. ‘Come on girls, run!’ I said, flying past, hearing them say, ‘No! We won’t catch that, it’s going too fast.’

  ‘Come on! Run! We’re nearly at the bus stop!’ I shouted back, flying for the bus, seeing it pass me and hearing the young ones laughing.

  Just as I got te the bus stop, it took off, and I dropped me head, steaming out me chest, throwing me shoulders back and taking off after the bus, running like the wind. The conductor watched me from the platform, seeing I was not going te give up, and belted the bell just as I lunged out te grab hold of the bar. The driver thought he meant they were off, and took up speed. I could hear the young ones going hysterical, laughing their guts out. I couldn’t afford te let go now. I grabbed the bar, trying te settle meself te get me right leg up, but the bus went faster. I held onta the bar, hopping up and down, running on thin air now, me legs flying, hardly hitting the ground. Then he gave another four hard bongs and the bus spluttered and screeched and slowed down so suddenly I shot inta the bar, winding me. But I wouldn’t let go. I was still running at the full speed and leapt onta the bus, flying across the platform. I couldn’t stop meself running, and smacked against the end seat, and the bus stopped with a jerk, and I was flying back down the bus again te land sprawled at the feet of the conductor, with me head hanging off the platform.

  ‘Jaysus! I dreamed about tha happenin te me! Havin women land at me feet. Were ye that excited te see me?’ he breathed, looking down at me knees covered in blood and me white socks ripped and filthy. ‘But ye didn’t have te put life and limb at risk,’ he said, bending down te put me standing on me feet. ‘It’s nice ye were so anxious te see me, but not this way!’ he said, looking down at me and seeing the young ones wrapped around each other trying te stop themself from collapsing with all their laughing and seeing the conductor looking at the state a me.

  ‘Here! Are ye all right?’ he said, lifting me leg te get a look at me knees, looking at me lovely white socks covered in blood and dirt. He took a white hanky outa his pocket and started spitting on it, wiping me knees, while I held me leg up, holding onta the bars.

  ‘Jaysus, you young ones are always in a hurry,’ he muttered. I watched the gang getting closer and wished he’d bang the bell, not wanting te half kill meself for nothing.

  ‘Hey, Conductor, wait for us,’ they shouted just as the conductor let me leg drop, telling me te go inside and take it easy. Then he banged the bell and we were off, leaving the others stranded.

  I limped off down te sit at the back of the bus, not wanting people staring at me after making a holy show of meself.

  I walked up the avenue in the pitch black, listening te the trees whispering in the wind and thought they were people hiding in the bushes. I stopped te listen, holding me breath. No! It’s only the wind, I said te meself slowly, letting go of me breath and moving meself off. I hurried up the avenue, giving a shiver passing the old graveyard that’s over beyond the high wall with ivy growing on it. The monks who had this place over two hundred years ago are buried in there. Once they came through them gates they never saw the world again and were locked up for good. Ye could only visit them by passing gifts in through a little grill in the door, and ring the bell first, te let them know someone was leaving something. Or ye could speak te them through a grill if ye got a special appointment, and that was only te the Abbot. I read about that in a book in the convent library. Me chest leapt with the jump me heart gave thinking about it. Now of all times. Jaysus! Some of them could be on the prowl! Who says the dead don’t come back? I started running, working meself inta a terrible sweat by the time I banged on the back door.

  ‘Yes! Who is that?’ whispered Sister Eleanor.

  ‘It’s me! Martha! Let me in, Sister Eleanor,’ I squealed, not wanting te be left out here in the dark with all them trees and bushes around, the January cold wind blowing around me legs.

  ‘Where are the others?’ she whispered, looking around behind me.

  ‘They’re not here, Sister.’

  ‘What! Where are they?’

  ‘In O’Connell Street,’ I said, flying past her inta the light and the heat in the room.

  She closed the door quietly, looking very annoyed. ‘Why did they not come back with you?’

  ‘Because I saw the bus coming and ran for it.’

  ‘Well, really! How dare they?’

  ‘But, Sister, I ran fast!’

  ‘Exactly! And they could have done the same,’ she snorted, getting very annoyed and picking up her sewing, getting back te her embroidery, saying, ‘When they come back here, I will certainly have words with them.’

  ‘Yeah! And they drove the poor Legion of Mary wom . . . Sisters mad!’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’ she said, her eyes narrowing, looking te the door te see if anyone was going te appear, then leaning inta me, giving me all her attention.

  ‘Well,’ I said, sitting back in me armchair, making meself comfortable and covering me knees, ‘the Sisters were going te telephone the Reverend Mother!’

  ‘What?’ She nearly lost her mind. ‘What were they doing?’ she asked, gasping, hardly able te get a breath.

  I took in a deep breath, staring back at her, shaking me head thinking of the shocking behaviour of the lot of them, then let it out slowly through me nose, hearing the sound of it, and took in another breath while she waited, holding hers and trying te be patient. ‘They were gadding about, Sister, with men!’

  ‘Gadding about?’

  ‘Yes!’ Using the word she always uses. ‘Chasing men! A big gang of them came around the club te mess with the girls, and the girls were hanging outa them and . . . that’s all I can say, Sister! The Legion of Mary Sisters were in fear; they said that something dreadful might happen te the girls’ virtue. There was mention of what happened te Maria Goretti, the saint who was murdered!’

  Sister Eleanor’s eyes were turning in her head as she listened, and the colour of her face went from red te purple te grey, and she was up on her feet and opening the door and saying, ‘Come quickly, Martha. We must
find them.’ Then she lifted up her rosary beads and started te pray. ‘Oh, Divine Jesus, protect them and keep them from all harm,’ she prayed, turning her head te the stars.

  I trotted beside her, delighted te be walking in the dark with her all te meself, having her give me all the attention. ‘We will walk down to the gate to see if there is any sign of them,’ she said, looking inta the distance, hoping against hope they would appear.

  I knew the gobshites were all well and fine – it’s hard te kill a bad thing – but Sister Eleanor worries and fusses about nothing. ‘No! Not a sign of them,’ she said, looking down along the high wall of the convent, trying te picture them walking back from the village. ‘Come on! We will have to go back to the convent. If only they had come back with you.’

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed, staring at her in the dark, making the same face as her.

  We shook our heads up and down, then she started te lose the rag again. ‘When they come back, I will have something to say to them!’ she vowed, grinding her teeth and shaking her head, working herself inta a fit. Then she marched off, heading back te the convent, leaving me looking at thin air.

  ‘Wait, Sister Eleanor, take it easy,’ I shouted in a whisper, not wanting her te start getting so annoyed she’d end up giving out te me, and that would be the end of all the attention I’m getting.

  We sat back down in the comfort of the chairs and the warm room, with me giving an exact picture of what went on in the club, with me the only one of the convent girls saying the rosary, the others all enjoying themselves no end outside on the street. Sister Eleanor sat listening te every word, narrowing her eyes when we got te the juicy bit where Dilly Nugent was hanging outa the fella with the long greasy hair. ‘And he was very, very common, Sister! Very rough altogether! It was shocking te watch their behaviour. And I thought it was a very bad example te me, as I am younger than them and was banned for a whole year for less! But I couldn’t possibly tell ye what else they were doing with the fellas, because, well, it wasn’t very nice at all. I don’t think they will be welcome in the club again, because the Legion of Mary were terribly shocked! They never saw the like of it in their life from the previous generation of convent girls, that’s what they said. So I can’t say any more, Sister! They would know it was me . . . and, it’s not for me te say, Sister. Ye better ask them. No! I better keep outa it,’ I said, looking at her, me face as shocked as hers.