by Martha Long
Isat staring out the window as the bus heaved and bullied its way through the traffic, then groaned to a stop as we made our way up Dame Street. We crawled along behind a row of bicycles, and the driver sat on his horn, wanting them to give him a gap in the traffic and let him get on with trying to cross over the Liffey. Only the bigwigs live on this side. The real Dubliners live on the other side, north of the Liffey.
I enjoyed myself no end, looking out at the latest fashions all the people were wearing. I stared at a girl wearing a Chinese-looking pin-stripe frock with the stand-up collar and the zip up the front and the hem ending just below her arse, hugging the young one’s fat, wobbly thighs. It was a lot shorter than my frock. Gawd! That’s very daring. I stared at her rushing along through the crowds, watching her hem swing around her arse, waiting to see if you could see her knickers. Jaysus, yeah! I got a glimpse of white cotton knickers. Gawd! I definitely wouldn’t wear mine that length, and end up making a show of meself, letting everyone see the colour of me knickers. Still, she looks lovely. Pity about the legs, they look like tree trunks.
I admired her page-boy hairstyle, cut short like a little elf, making her look like a boy. I wonder if I should get me hair cut like that? No! Definitely not. It took me long enough to get it to shoulder length, I was bald long enough.
Then me eyes peeled over to the two young ones standing at the bus stop on the other side of the road. Gawd! The state of her. Me eyes were on stalks staring over. One of them was a lovely blonde with a page-boy hairstyle, but she was wearing a flared pink-dotted white frock right up to her arse, and she was so pregnant she looked like she was about to have it any minute. All the cars were slowing down and honking their horns at her, and she lifted her chin and looked away like she was Lady Muck. Then she said something to the other one with a big mop of red frizzy hair that stood up like she got an electric shock, and huge goggle eyes staring out through milk-bottle glasses. The two of them turned their backs and stared in at the shop window. Totally ignoring the people staring and the aul fellas going mad whistling and honking and waving out the windows of the cars. She’s definitely not Irish, she’s probably American and most certainly not married. And she stands there in broad daylight showing what she had for her dinner. Jaysus! She’s showing everything she’s got.
I stared like mad as the bus moved slowly through the traffic. Yeah! Definitely foreign, yeh can tell by the expensive look of her. She’s well fed and has lovely brown legs. I wonder how she came to get herself in that state? And she doesn’t seem to care! That’s judging by the way she’s carrying on. Gawd! Imagine going out looking like her in that condition. She sure has a nerve, that one. I could read her lips when she said something to the friend. It looked to me like she said, laughing at the same time, ‘Come! Let us turn our back, they are so rude.’ What I can’t understand is, what did she expect, looking like that in a short baby-doll dress? It’s very peculiar, but still, I wouldn’t mind being a bit like her, without the pregnant bit.
Hmm! I wonder about that, foreigners are so different. They’re better dressed and more easy-going than us. Not tight-faced and haggard-looking, like the rest of the people. All rushing home to get things done, and worrying their life away. I wonder how the foreigners manage that. They seem to know more then we do about what’s happening in the world. Yeah! They’re more educated than us as well. What I can’t understand is, we send missionaries to Africa, and send them good money as well. But then they come here and go to the College of Surgeons and learn to be doctors! When they are supposed to be poor! That means we are supposed to be rich! When, as a matter of fact, most people haven’t got two half-pennies to rub together, and a lot of people here can’t even read and write. I just can’t work that one out at all.
The bus fought inch by inch through the traffic then spotted a gap and the engine roared, while he tried to climb up the little hump on the bridge over the Liffey and get the speed. But it was all noise and puffs of blue smoke and the tearing of gears, while the engine screamed and we still crept along like an aul nun of ninety out on a mission.
The bus gasped, puffing its way over the bridge, then picked up speed as we went down the little hill, swerving madly to avoid an aul fella pulling across in front of us on his bicycle, nearly landing the lot of us in the Liffey – and I can’t even swim. Then nearly hitting a pony, coming up on the inside. The pony was doing grand up until then. Happily rushing home, dragging the empty coal cart behind him, and minding his own business with nothing on his mind but the bag of oats waiting for him back at the stables, and probably dying to get snuggled down into the lovely bit of nice warm, dry hay after a long aul hard day’s work. The coal man rocked on his feet, nearly losing his balance while he tried to steady his left leg dangling in the air and threw his balance, getting him standing again, and pulled tight on the reins, holding them high in the air with his hands together and the whip held grasped in his right hand. The horse danced to the right, showing the whites of his eyes and his ears pinned back, snorting air out through his nostrils, sending a fine spray of water and steam billowing around his head. ‘Whoa, there! Easy now!’ The horse steadied, still stamping his hoofs, rolling his eyes at the bus and wondering if the danger was over or should he make a run for it. ‘Easy, easy!’ shouted the coal man, pulling tighter and higher on the reins. All the time keeping his eye on the horse and getting ready to give a mouthful of curses. The horse gave one final dance and settled to a slow trot.
‘Yeh blind fuckin bastard!’ roared the coal man, giving all his attention to the bus driver. ‘Yeh shouldn’t be left in charge of a babby’s pram. Never mind a fuckin bus!’
The driver whipped open his little window. ‘Who’re you callin a blind bastard? You! Yeh fuckin eejit! Yeh eejit!’
‘Yeh nearly landed me and the horse inta the next world!’
‘It wasn’t my doin! It was tha thick bastard there on the other side a ya! Him there on the fuckin High Nelly!’
‘I’ll give him High Nelly!’ roared the coal man, whipping the cap off his head showing a snow-white forehead, while the rest of his face was black as the ace of spades. He slapped the cap back on his head and slid it over his forehead, pulling it tight around his head, then set his sights on the aul fella pedalling away like he hadn’t a care in the world as he turned right down Eden Quays, making straight out in front of a bread van, forcing the driver to sit on his brakes and nearly swerve into two cyclists pedalling side by side. The coal man whipped up the horse, making to go after the cyclist, screaming, ‘Yeh whore’s fuckin melt! The curse a Jaysus on yeh, yeh four-eyed fucker! I’ll do time for you if I get me hands on yeh!’
The bus driver blasted his horn and waved at the aul fella, who kept pedalling away down the middle of the road with not a bother on him. No bus or bread van was going to get in his way, as he headed himself off down the quay leaving a lot of aul fellas cursing him to hell.
‘Jesus Christ almighty! Did yeh see tha? And did yeh ever hear the like a the language outa them!’ roared an aul one sitting in front of me, as I sat with me back to the driver, sitting on the long seat where I could see everything going on, making sure I’d miss nothing. ‘Did yeh?’ she roared at me, leaning over and tapping me knee.
‘No, never,’ I said, whipping me head back from the coal man and looking at her! ‘An not one a them has even had a drop a drink on them! No, cold sober,’ I said, looking very shocked, keeping the roars of laughing inside meself.
‘Ah, Jaysus. Tha was a good one,’ an aul fella shouted to the bus, laughing and coughing on his Woodbine.
‘Well! You may be laughin! I’m not the better of it! Yeh wouldn’t be laughin for much longer if we all upended, the lot of us, swimming for our lives in the Liffey without a life jacket!’ snorted the aul one, shaking herself and staring over at him.
‘Ah, sure, there’s no harm in them. Sure, isn’t it only aul guff!’ he said, tryin to placate her.
‘Guff, is it? Is tha wha yeh said? Guff, me arse! Be
tween the pair a them we coulda ended up lying on a slab and everyone bein told we were lovely-lookin corpses! You may want tha, Mister, but I’ll thank yeh teh keep yer comments to yerself, if yeh don’t be mindin.’
‘Ruckie up! Ruckie up!’ shouted a pair of young fellas, making a laugh out of the aul ones. ‘Go on, Missus! You tell him!’ a skinny one shouted, trying to start a fight between the aul ones.
‘Cut tha out!’ shouted the aul fella, turning his vengeance on the skinny, pale-faced young fella with the mop of red carroty hair standing up on top of his head with a mind of its own. The young fella went red in the face, matching the colour of his hair, and turned with a shifty look to the fella sitting next to him, hoping for a bit of back-up. The other fella stared out the window, pretending it was nothing to do with him, feeling the heat from the dozen pair of eyes boring into them, with everyone on the bus staring over at them. ‘Or I’ll come down there and put manners on yeh with a boot up the arse,’ said the aul fella, shaking his head slowly and resting his hands on his thighs, meaning business. He waited to see if there was any response, then snorted, throwing his eye out the window and cocking it around the bus, seeing the people shaking their head in agreement at the bloody cheek a them young ones speaking to their elders like that. Then he nodded his head, feeling satisfied now he had put them in their place and he could pick on someone that wouldn’t give him lip. Unlike the aul one making him look like a real eejit for only defending the men.
I jumped up, grabbing me handbag and suitcase, rushing to get off the bus before it took off leaving me stranded up on Parnell Square and having to walk all the way back down again. The conductor banged the bell, getting the bus to stop, and said, ‘Are yeh goin somewhere nice wit the suitcase, darlin?’ Then he shook himself, lifting his neck, trying to make himself look taller then me, but only managing about half an inch.
‘Yeah! I’m heading off up to the Phoenix Park to start me new job as secretary to President de Valera,’ I said, laughing and trying to be smart.
‘Yeah! If that’s the case, my Aunt Biddy just won the pools and we’re all off teh the Canary Islands.’
‘Mind yeh don’t go gettin yerself eatin by one a them canaries,’ I said, curling me mouth down into a U-shape. And flicking me head away then back, flapping me eyelashes at him, trying to look beautiful and mysterious in me new hat and coat.
‘I love yer hat,’ he said, bending his head sideways, wanting to look at it from a different angle. ‘Yeh know! That’s style, tha is! Yeh look like something tha just stepped out of a fillum . . . wha was it called? Yeah! The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. Tha’s it!’ he snapped his fingers, delighted at remembering, hoping I’d think he was very intelligent.
I hopped off the bus, dragging me suitcase after me, and landed on the footpath outside the Metropole picture house. The bus took off with him hanging off the platform. ‘I’ll meet yeh outside there!’ he shouted, with one hand covering his mouth and the other one stabbing at the entrance to the Metropole. ‘Tonight! At half-past seven. We’ll go to the pictures! Huh! Are we on?’
‘Bye-bye!’ I laughed, delighted he thought I looked lovely. The heat warming up me chest, making me want to stretch me neck and walk like the world belonged to me, because I was so lovely-looking. Jaysus! He really does mean a date! Imagine! Me getting a date! The young ones back in the convent would be raging if they knew. Mad with jealousy! Pity I can’t meet him. But I’m starting that new job and God knows when I’ll see the light of day again. I don’t even know when I’ll be getting me day off.
I stood at the edge of the footpath, looking up and down, judging my chances of getting across through the heavy traffic flying up and down O’Connell Street. I got a foot on the road and an aul one on a bicycle swerved in front of me, nearly taking the nose off me. ‘Look out! Yeh eejit!’ she shouted.
‘Fuck you! Yeh blind cow!’ I screamed in rage, as she knocked me suitcase, swiping the leg off me and knocking herself off the saddle, sliding down and hurting her arse. Her legs danced around the road trying to steady the bike and get her arse on the saddle and take off wobbling next to the footpath. She can’t handle that bike, I thought, staring after her, me chest heaving up and down with the rage. Then she stopped and dropped her foot on the footpath and had the cheek to look back at me.
‘Go home to yer mammy and tell her I said to lock you up, yeh dangerous bitch. Yer not fit teh cross the road. You’ve no sense!’ she screamed back at me, rubbing her arse and thinking she was a safe distance away from me. Then she hopped back up again and went on pedalling up O’Connell Street.
I stared after her, with me mouth hanging open. Then it hit me. ‘At least I don’t have teh show me knickers teh get a man, yeh aul whore!’ I screamed. Looking at her big fat culchie legs pumping up and down, the skirt blown up inta the air. She’s fuckin lucky I’m practising to be a lady, because I’d a loving to give her a smack in the chops! ‘The cheek a her! An she in the wrong!’ I snorted, grabbing a hold of me suitcase and steadying meself to have another go, catching the eye of an aul fella.
‘That’s right, young one! You tell her,’ puffed the aul fella, giving me a wink as he moseyed past, sucking on his Woodbine.
Ah, fuck, I’ll never make it across from this end, not dragging this suitcase anyway. It will be the death a me, I thought, choking on the smelly black fumes. As cars, buses, trucks, delivery vans, and even horses and carts – and especially bleedin bicycles! – all peeled past me, flying up and down, me head going backwards and forwards with them, making me dizzy. They moved so fast, they made it look like it was the last one outa here puts out the lights. Before the world ends. What’s their hurry? Jaysus! I forgot what it was like after being locked away in that convent for three years. I will have to walk up a bit and cross at the Pillar.
‘Is that yerself!’ screamed a woman inta me face, smiling and laughing. I stared at the woman standing in front of me with the thin grey hair and the bony tired aul face after too much living.
‘Missus Redmond!’ I shouted, me heart gladdening at the sight of me old neighbour from the Corporation buildings. Her and me ma, and me and her daughter were great friends.
‘Jesus! Yer a sight for sore eyes,’ she said, whipping me around to look at me. ‘Looka the style a you! Here! Stand back, and let me get a good look at yeh!’ I stood up straight and smiled, seeing her look at me from side to side then tighten the shawl around her shoulders and move in close to me. ‘Gawd almighty, yer lookin lovely! Yeh turned out grand. I wouldn’t a known yeh, only I recognised the face straight away. You were away. Weren’t yeh!’ she shouted. ‘They sent yeh away! I know tha because I saw mention of it in the newspaper when it happened.’
‘I was in the newspaper?’ I said with a fright.
‘Yeah! The evenin paper. Everyone was very sorry. You were very unfortunate and didn’t deserve tha. Was it a convent they sent yeh to?’
‘Yeah!’
‘Was it hard?’ she whispered, staring inta me face, seeing her eyes soften with the pity.
‘Ah, it coulda been worse,’ I said, thinking of the other places I could have ended up in.
‘Did they make yeh work hard?’
‘Yeah! Course they did,’ I laughed. ‘Yeh know what the nuns are like.’
‘Oh, indeed I do! Only too well,’ she said, nodding her head and twisting her mouth with disgust. ‘Well, yer out now, aren’t yeh? When did yeh get out? Are yeh just getting out now?’ she roared, looking down at the suitcase.
‘Yeah!’
‘How is the poor mammy? Gawd! She’ll lose her mind wit the excitement of having yeh back. Is tha where yer off ta now? Is she still out in Finglas? Gawd! I coulda got a house out there years ago. But I could never move from the city. I have everything here around me tha I need. I’d be lost out in a place like tha.’
‘How have you been keeping?’ I asked, looking at her poor tired face.
‘Ah, I keep goin, I keep goin wit the help of God. Wha else can I do, Mart
ha!’
‘Yeah,’ I whispered, me heart going out to her, seeing all the pain and hardship she’s been through showing in her tired faded blue eyes. ‘How is Emmy?’ I shouted, thinking it would be lovely to see her again.
‘Ah, God, Martha love! She’s gone! Gone from me these last five months and two weeks and one day! I have it all off by heart,’ she whispered, her eyes filling up with tears.
‘Why! What happened?’ I asked, hoping she wouldn’t tell me the worst.
‘She’s dead, Martha. She was killed by a bus crossin the road, Martha,’ she whispered. ‘Killed stone dead tryin teh cross the road in London. At Trafalgar Square,’ she whispered, with tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Me eldest daughter. Only just turned sixteen. It was two days after she turned sixteen he threw her out on the streets, and she went off to London. Tha’s the last I ever saw of her. She was only less then two weeks there when it happened. It was all his fault,’ she cried, looking back to that time, her voice trailing away. Getting lost back in time, remembering seeing her daughter’s face for that one last time. I stared at her, feeling her pain. Waiting for her to come back to me. ‘She’s buried in England, Martha. But wha really breaks me heart is tha I can’t afford teh bring her home! She’s buried over there, and I never even saw the grave! They have her buried in a pauper’s grave,’ she muttered, staring into the distance. Then she dropped her head, burying her face in a handful of shawl, and wiped her nose looking up at me. ‘Seein you has brought her back to me. I can still see the two of you so clearly, playin together, like it was only happenin now,’ she laughed. Showing the tears and snots and saliva bubbling on the corners of her mouth. Her eyes lighting up with the memory. ‘How will I ever get over tha, Martha? She went away because he threw her out! If he had left her alone, she would still be alive today.’