by Martha Long
‘Oh, you are so right, dear,’ she said, giving me a mouthful of yellow false teeth with the lipstick plastered over them, and half of her face. Then she grabbed Timmy and sat him down on her lap, saying, ‘Now, tell Granny what you have all been up to since I last saw you.’
‘Granny! Where’s Granny Flynn?’ asked Clare, steaming into the kitchen.
‘She’s up in the bathroom repairing her make-up, so she calls it. Gawd help us! More like looking for a chisel and hammer to take it off, I say,’ sniffed the little granny.
‘Oh, I hope she gets a move on. The baby will be due another feed before she gets her home at this rate of going,’ Clare moaned, rushing out to the hall. Then she came flying back in. ‘Mother, why don’t you go upstairs and get yourself settled? You haven’t even taken your coat off yet,’ she said, eyeing the canary-yellow coat with the big silver buttons, and the wide wraparound collar.
‘I was going to give Timmy his bath,’ the granny said, looking down at Timmy sitting on her knee, sucking his thumb, looking dead tired now.
‘No, you go on upstairs. You are in our bedroom. I’ve made the bed up for you. Come on, Mother! I’ll get Greg to bring up the cases as soon as I get rid of the one upstairs.’
‘Yes, now that you mention it, darling, I am feeling very tired after that long drive from Tipperary! Do you know,’ she said, putting Timmy on his feet and holding his hand, taking him with her, and Ollie grabbing her other hand, the three of them following Clare up the stairs, ‘I was actually sitting in the drive of the house, after pulling the car to a stop. Before I realised I had actually arrived! Can you beat that now?’
‘Oh, Mother! I worry about you driving that car,’ Clare said, sounding definitely very drained.
I stood in the kitchen, wondering what I should do to help. Clare usually gets the tea. Hmm! Maybe I should wait to see what’s happening. I looked around the empty kitchen, thinking the life has gone out of it now. It’s funny the way a room can be teeming with life one minute, then cold like a morgue the next. Wonder if I could nip in and watch the television?
I wandered out to the hall, seeing the grey emptiness in the sitting room, and looked out through the open front door, seeing Greg standing at the driver’s side of the windscreen, leaning on the car chatting to his father. It felt freezing cold with the door open, and the dark night creeping in already made me shiver. It couldn’t be any more then around four o’clock but the day is gone already. Gawd! I’m suddenly feeling flat as a pancake. It must be because Clare is going tonight. I’m going to miss her! The house already feels empty without her.
Me eyes peeled back at the kitchen, and I wandered back in again, sitting meself down in the armchair and leaned into the heat from the Aga, feeling glad of the bit of heat. I must still be under the weather from that aul dose of bronchitis. Jaysus! It really knocks the stuffing out of you. I listened, hearing the big granny and Clare coming down the stairs. With Clare sounding very worried the granny might not know everything there is to know about taking care of little baby Aoife.
‘Yes, she’s sleeping in the carrycot. Greg is out there keeping an eye on her, and talking to his father. Now, you know her routine. Generally, she takes a feed every four hours, but if she wakes before that, give her a bottle. You know the formula, and how to mix the feed. I’ve written everything down on the lists for you.’
‘Don’t worry, Clare, dear!’ the big granny laughed, making it sound like a cat being strangled. ‘I have reared three of my own, you know! They are all still hale and hearty. You should know. You are married to one of the great big lumps.’
I wandered out to get a look, seeing the big granny take her compact out of her bag and put more powder on her face, squinting into the compact mirror, and rubbing it hard into her purple nose. Then she slapped it back into her big handbag, and slammed the clasp shut, and fixed her hat, pulling it down and over to one side. Then she put on her leather kid gloves and took off out the door, stopping to look back at me and wave. ‘Well, I’ll be off, then! Goodbye . . . eh, dear!’ Then she was gone, with Clare trailing out the door after her, and standing on the footpath with her arms folded. While Greg came around to stand beside her and put his arm around her, pulling her in beside him. She kept bending down and looking in the back seat at the baby, making sure she was OK. I stared at the two of them standing side by side, even though Clare looked a bit cold and lost, without her baby, and even Greg’s arm around her didn’t make up for her loss.
The car started up and the granddaddy waved and the granny turned around, waving and smiling underneath the big hat! I rushed back into the kitchen, not wanting them to see me watching. I felt out of place. Like it wasn’t my business to be hanging around taking in everything that somehow seemed a bit private. Like I knew I’m not one of the family. It’s times like this when I’m caught off guard that make me realise just how much I miss not having that. Underneath all that guff, I do be telling meself that it’s just grand being on me own with no one to tell me what I can and can’t do. When really underneath I would give anything, just to belong to a family like this. Maybe one day I’ll meet a lovely man like Greg, and be just like Clare. Have me own family, and make them all happy. Just like Clare does. The room lights up when she comes into it. A good mother is everything. Yeah! And a good man to back her up, just like Greg. You can’t have one without the other! You definitely need a good man to make a happy family. I think that’s maybe more important then having loads a money. What good would that be when you’re cold and lonely?
I stood at the back door, puffing on me cigarette, staring out into the darkness, enjoying the feel of the dry cold air making me skin tingle, after being stuck in the house all day. I lifted me head, staring up at the few stars glittering far above in the inky-black sky. Ah, this is the life.
I shivered. Keeping an ear out for the little granny. Yesterday morning when she called me out of bed to get the day going, it was just me and the granny. Clare and Greg had gone off to the airport late the night before. Gawd! She never stops fussing. Flying around in her big fluffy slippers, making much ado about nothing. Giving me orders left right an centre. Getting nothing done! Now nobody listens to her. Not even Timmy!
The door opened suddenly without any warning and a voice roared, ‘Shut that back door! You are letting all the heat escape. What’s that smell?’
I got such a fright, I sent the half-smoked cigarette flying through the air, sending it landing on the damp grass. I watched it for a split second, glowing in the dark, hardly any of it smoked. Ah! What a pity to waste all that! I whipped me head around, staring into the granny’s white tired face. Her new perm with the red dye was flattened on her head, and her eyes were hanging out of her skull and she had on a frilly apron covering her aul black skirt and a yellow blouse with the top buttons missing, showing off her grey wrinkly neck with the skin hanging down. I could see she had somehow shrunk very quickly, and looked like the next gust of wind would blow her away.
‘What’s that smell?’ she barked.
‘What smell? I don’t smell anything.’
‘Were you smoking in the kitchen?’
‘No, definitely not. Why? What’s wrong with you, Missus Enright?’
‘Wrong? Nothing’s wrong! Why should there be anything wrong?’ she snapped, lifting her neck, trying to make herself look bigger. ‘I have everything under control,’ she snorted. ‘Now, don’t you dare ever smoke in my kitchen!’
‘Right!’ I snorted, marching out.
‘Wait! Where are you going?’
‘To switch the television on in the sitting room.’
‘No, there will be no television unless I say so.’
‘Wha?’ I screeched, leaving me mouth hanging open, ready to give her an earful.
‘Go upstairs this minute and read those bold boys a bedtime story. Then I expect them to go quietly to sleep,’ she said. Looking up at the wall clock, seeing it was half-past eight at night and they were still not asleep.
‘Yes, of course I did. I spent the last hour and a half reading them stories. But they are still unsettled. They are missing their parents.’
I scratched me head, thinking. ‘They won’t go to sleep for me either, Missus Enright. Last night there was murder. They belted each other around the room, flying the pillows and toys and anything else they could get their hands on, having great gas for themselves.’
‘Yes, but who do you think was in and out to them until half-past twelve last night?’
‘Me!’ we both said together.
‘Indeed you were not. I was sitting in their room on my own, and when I called you that last time you refused to get up!’ she screamed, losing the rag at the thought of it all.
‘What about me? I had a hard time getting meself out of that bed this morning, yeh know! I was banjacked,’ I said, beginning teh lose me own rag.
‘Stop talking rubbish!’ she screamed, going purple in the face. ‘Who do you think had to get up and call you? Me!’ She slapped her chest, snorting and roaming her eyes around the kitchen. Wanting the walls to hear what she went through. ‘You are supposed to be helping me! But I am having to run around after you. Now! This will all stop. I am . . .’
‘Don’t you dare!’ I screamed. ‘I’m the one doing all the running, while you fly around the place like a headless chicken!’
‘How dare you speak to me in that tone! I will be reporting you to Clare when she gets home. You may be assured of that, madam!’
‘You reporting me?’ I screamed, starting to choke, because I nearly strangled meself with the rage flying through me. Then I started a fit of coughing, and tried to hurry it up to get me breath back. Desperately wanting her to know just how in the wrong she was. She stared for a minute, watching me face turn blue. Then she beat me to it. Opening her mouth wide and throwing her head back and shouting again, ‘Yes, I am in charge here!’
‘No, you are not! I am in charge. Clare left me in charge. She said that specifically. You are only here to do the cooking. I am in charge of the children.’
‘Well, really!’ she puffed, wringing her hands and turning away, making for the kettle to make herself a cup of tea. I could hear the ructions upstairs and headed out the door, flying up the stairs.
‘Martha! We are having a fight!’ Ollie laughed, clouting the little shape hidden under the blankets laughing its head off. Me eyes took in the state of the room. The shelves were empty, all the toys ending up all over the floor, and the wardrobe hanging open with the clothes on the floor, and Ollie’s eyes flying with devilment, looking like he had enough energy to last the night.
‘Bedtime!’ I clapped me hands, going over to make up Timmy’s bed, with all the blankets lying on the floor.
‘Nooo! We are having loads of fun,’ Ollie moaned in a low keen.
‘Bed!’ I said, quickly finishing making the bed and whipping little Timmy into his own bed. ‘Now, I am going to tell you a story. Not from a book. But only if you promise to be very quiet! Is that OK?’
‘No! We want to play,’ Ollie said, making his mind up.
‘OK, Ollie. Stand off the bed until I make it first, then let’s see what is going to happen next,’ I said, leading him onta the floor.
‘What? What are we going to do?’ Ollie roared.
‘Wait and see! Now, you grab that side and tuck it under the mattress. The sooner we have this room tidied up, the quicker you will find out. OK? Quickly!’ He panted, pulling the blankets up on the other side of the bed.
‘Timmy, pick up the toys and put them on the shelf.’ Timmy let go of his bit of slip from Clare’s underwear. He drags that everywhere when he’s tired. Then he started to throw all the teddies and soft toys at the shelf and landing them on the floor again. ‘Right, Ollie. You hop into bed and wait until we see what happens next.’
I whipped Timmy up and put him into his bed, giving him his bit of silk, and covering him up. He started to suck his thumb, rubbing the silk on his cheek, with his eyelashes flapping, and I knew he would conk out if I could get ten minutes of keeping him quiet.
‘OK, Ollie,’ I whispered. ‘The next bit is you lie down under the bedclothes and wait to see what will happen.’ I saw him wriggling, dragging the bedclothes over him and waiting patiently, watching my every move.
I flew around the room, grabbing up all the stuff and putting them back in their places, and fixed the wardrobe, shutting the door, and closed the curtains again, to keep out the cold. Then I whipped over to put out the overhead light, and switched on the night light, that sits just outside the door on a little table. ‘Now,’ I whispered, sitting down beside Ollie on his bed, ‘I am going to tell you a true story.’
‘What’s it about?’ mumbled Ollie, his eyes closing, now he had settled down.
‘It’s about magic, and fairies, and very, very special teddies, and all about the adventures of two very special little boys called Ollie and Timmy. Once upon a time . . .’ I whispered.
‘. . . and Ollie and Timmy flew back through the open window on the magic carpet and landed back in their own room. Then the snow bear gently lifted the two sleeping little boys and put them warm and snug back into their beds and wrapped them up. Then gazed out at the soft white snowflakes gently falling onto the earth. All was quiet, everything still, and in the distance he thought he could hear the tinkling of bells. “Time to go,” he whispered. “Santa is on his way.”’ I ended the story, barely above a whisper.
Out cold, I thought, staring from Ollie with his mouth open, giving a little snore. To Timmy, totally clapped out with his arm thrown back over his head, and the little silky slip lying in his outstretched hand beside him on the pillow. Gawd! They’re exhausted, poor little things. I stood up gently, not wanting to make a sound, crept out of the room, closing the door over, letting the light shine in through the gap in the open door, and made me way quietly down the stairs.
I opened the kitchen door quietly, seeing the little granny sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and munching on a crumpet. She looked far away, and a bit lost. Listening to the radio sending out lovely old music from long ago. ‘That was the Glenn Miller Orchestra,’ a man’s voice announced, speaking in lovely soft tones with an English accent.
‘They’re asleep,’ I whispered, smiling and creeping over to the table. ‘Are you all right?’ I said. ‘I’m very sorry for losing my temper. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I had no business. It won’t happen again,’ I said, looking at her poor tired old face that had seen a lot of life. Now she looked really drained.
‘No, forget all about it, Martha. You are really a good girl. I had just run to the end of my tether. I’m certainly feeling my age. Here, help yourself. Have a crumpet. I have just heated them up under the grill, and they are lovely and warm. Do you want raspberry jam? I love them that way.’
‘Yeah, thanks, that’s lovely,’ I said happily, staring at her lathering on the good butter and topping it with jam.
‘Now, you can finish the rest of them. I bought them today in the local shop. They had just arrived in with the breadman. By tomorrow they will be stale. Oh, it’s lovely to enjoy the peace and quiet, and know the day is over,’ she sighed, taking a big bite of the crumpet.
‘Yeah, they’re a handful when they get going,’ I said.
‘Oh, I had forgotten what it was like to be taking care of young children. My days of doing this are well and truly over,’ she sighed, staring at the table. Forgetting to eat the rest of her crumpet.
‘Ah, don’t worry. It will be grand. We’ll manage fine between the two of us. Here’s what we’ll do. You look after the cooking, and I’ll do all the washing up and cleaning. Now, if you give them their bath in the night-time, I’ll get them down to sleep, and I’ll take care of the boys, do all the running around. Then you only have to worry about the shopping and the cooking! What do you think about that idea?’
‘Oh, that will be marvello
us,’ she said, happily, thinking about it and rubbing my hand. ‘Clare said you were a great girl. I think you are a treasure,’ she said, smiling at me. I felt meself blushing at all the praise, and delighted she was now easier in herself and feeling very happy. ‘Mind you,’ she said, ‘I’m delighted to be here. I jumped at the chance to stay and take care of my grandchildren. I don’t see them very often. In fact, only a couple of times during the year. I travel up by train usually, and stay with them for a few days over Christmas. Then maybe for a week in the summer. Other then that . . . well, I’m on my own. Rattling around in that big old house with nothing much to do. Clare says I should get rid of it and move into something smaller and more modern. But I couldn’t be bothered. It’s too much effort at my time of life. Besides, I spent most of my life in that house. It was my husband’s family home. We started our married life together in that house. Reared our two children, and he died there. Prematurely. He should never have died so young. He was only sixty-one. Nearing retirement, he was,’ she said, shaking her head, a look of pain crossing her face. ‘We had so many plans. So much life to catch up on. We were going to go on a world cruise, you see,’ she said, looking at me like she still couldn’t understand what went wrong. ‘We had been saving for that for years. Then one morning, it was just after eleven o’clock – I remember hearing the grandfather clock ring out the chimes in the hall as I rushed to answer the phone. It was Mr O’Driscoll, my husband’s partner. “Mary,” he said, sounding very serious, speaking very slowly and precisely. “I have grave news,” he said. I knew straight away something terrible had happened. It was the way he spoke, using the word “grave”. I just knew.’
She shook her head, letting the whole thing happen to her all over again.
‘Then he coughed, I remember holding my breath, feeling a terrible sense of dread. “What is it?” I said, wanting him to get on and tell me. Dreading to hear what he was going to say. “Mary, I’m afraid it’s Kevin. He collapsed here in the surgery. Doctor Geoghan came straight away, but it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do for him. I’m . . . afraid he has passed away.” He said that so quietly, I could barely hear him. “I’m sorry I’m not there with you, to give you the news personally, but I’m still at the hospital. I was waiting for news. Hoping he would pull through. But I’m afraid he was gone by the time we got here, the doctor told me. Father Finnigan is on his way over to you right now. He will drive you out here to the hospital. I’ll wait here for you, if you like? Would you like me to ring anyone?” “No, no,” I said, putting down the phone. I remember staring at the clock, hearing the time ticking away. Hearing no other sounds. I was completely alone. I knew then that was it. My Kevin had gone. We had lived for each other, and the children. Now they were all gone. John, my son, the eldest child, was a missionary priest out in Africa. I knew I might never see him again. It had been fifteen years since he went on the missions, and we had never seen him again. Not once. Clare was up here in Dublin doing her hospital training. That was it,’ she said, staring down at her hands, talking quietly, lost in that terrible time back then.