by Martha Long
The bus was finally picking up speed as we left Dorset Street, and I tensed meself, watching out for my stop. I could now see it coming up ahead, and tried to move with the crush of people behind me. ‘Excuse me! I’m getting off!’ I shouted, wanting to make me way down to the platform before it was too late, and I would end up having to walk miles back again. People were hesitating, looking at me, then at each other. Everyone waiting for the next person to make the first move. They were afraid of losing their place on the bar. ‘Excuse me!’ I roared. ‘Conductor! Stop the bus! This is my stop coming up, I want to get off!’ I shouted. Straight into the ear of people standing next to me, trying to make meself heard by the conductor. Because I couldn’t see him. The people standing beside me moved away fast, not wanting to get another blast in their eardrums.
I pushed me way down the bus, using the box as a battering ram to get people to squeeze out of me way. Then I was off, standing on the footpath, breathing in the fresh air. ‘Oh! Am I delighted to get off that bus!’ I puffed, making me way up the road, seeing the shop in the distance was in pitch black. Great! I’m going to have the place to meself.
At last! Back again! I put the box on the ground and rooted in me bag for the key. Here we are. I put the key in the door, pushing it in, and landed the box on the stairs, reaching back to the wall and switching on the light. ‘OK!’ I muttered, wanting to break the silence of the place by hearing a voice. Even if it is me own. I slammed the door shut, then looked at the bolt. I better put that on, seeing as I’m in the place on me own.
I humped the box up the stairs, and stopped in the hall to work out where the light switch was. I flicked it on and the hall lit up. Showing the boxes stacked against the wall, nearly the length of the passage. I made straight for the kitchen, flicking the switch, and the room filled up with light. The silence hit me straight away, and I stopped breathing for a minute, taking in the deadquiet stillness. Jaysus! This place is like the dead house! And it’s bleedin freezing. There’s no heating, they have it switched off for the Christmas. Right! I can fix that.
I rushed over to the cooker and switched all the knobs on the electric hobs, watching to see if it would blow up with all the amount of power it was suddenly using. Feeling afraid of me life, because I’d be down the swanny with no way of cooking. Nothing happened. Grand. That should heat the place up in no time.
I emptied out the box, putting the rashers and sausages and chops in the fridge, along with the cheese and milk. Then I left the eggs and bread and pound of butter sitting on the worktop. Lovely. I filled the kettle, leaving it on the cooker to boil, and went down to the room, taking me books and chocolates with me. I switched on the light and pulled the curtains across. Then hung up me coat and put away me handbag and left Molly back her string bag, where I’d found it. Now for something to eat. What will I have?
I made me way back to the kitchen and the hobs were turning red. The heat hit me as soon as I walked into the room. Gawd! This is great. The kettle was boiled already, and I decided to fill me hot-water bottle to get me bed warming as quickly as I could. It’s freezing in that bedroom. Lovely! That’s better. I fixed the blankets over the hot-water bottle, seeing the little hump in the bed, and me heart lifted. Great! All me little comforts. I can eat meself stupid, then have a bath and dive into the lovely warm bed and read to me heart’s content. Yeah! That’s what I’m going to do! Eat sleep read, and do what I like for the next four days. Right! Now for the grub.
I flew down to the kitchen, enjoying the blast of heat as soon as I hit the room. What will I have? Chop? No, save that for tomorrow, and the next day. Rashers! Two! Better not burn them. I rooted around in the press, coming up with the frying pan, and looked for a bit of dripping. Borrow theirs. Where do they keep everything hidden? I looked in all the presses. Nothing! A mouldy packet of flour. They must have cleaned out everything for the Christmas. Butter will do. I lashed on a big knob and slapped on the rashers, then whipped them off again. Cook the sausages first. They take longest. Jaysus! I’m really coming on. I learned a few things watching the little granny and Clare doing the cooking. Yeh stab them first to stop them exploding, Clare said.
They were beginning to turn black very fast. The butter was making them black. Jaysus! They’re not turning out right! Wonder what’s wrong? I stared at them, seeing the smoke pouring out of the frying pan and the kitchen was beginning to fill with the smoke! I started to cough and me eyes were watering. Maybe I should turn down the heat. It’s on too full. I whipped the knob down to one and flew out of the kitchen, wanting a bit of air, and watching from the doorway the sausages turning black. Pity! Wonder how that happened? Then I flew in again, whipping the pan off the cooker. I stared at the two sausages, burned to a cinder! They’ll do. I’m not wasting good food.
I put on the two rashers and cut the tomatoes in half, putting the four halfs on the pan and kept turning them. I’m taking no chances this time. I watched them like a hawk. The rashers gave out a lovely smell and I whipped them off as soon as the fat was going crisp. Lovely! I put them beside the burned sausages and took off the pan. I put on another knob of butter and dropped in the two eggs, hoping for lovely white, and gorgeous soft yolks in the middle. They went black and greasy straight away. Never mind. Maybe it’s not a good idea to cook stuff in good butter!
I left them cooking away and put on the kettle to boil for the tea. Then started to cut me black-crusted loaf. Fuck! This knife is not sharp enough. It’s only for eating your dinner with. Then I spotted the sharp little knife sitting at the bottom of the cutlery drawer. I had a go with that, stabbing at the loaf and sawing away. Smashing! I cut two big thick slices. Then lathered on the good butter, making it inches thick. I looked at the golden-coloured butter spread across the soft white bread with the black crust, and me mouth watered and me belly rumbled. When I think of me days starving as a child, dreaming about this . . . Now I can eat as much as I want to me heart’s content! I still can’t believe I’m free as a bird. I can go me own way through life. Oh, this is lovely!
I slid the greasy, black, curled-at-the-edges eggs and overdone in the middle after the yolks burst onto the plate, and made the tea, putting two teaspoons into the pot, and poured on the boiled water. Then I left it on the hob for a minute to stew. That’s what Sister Mercy used to do in the convent. So, at least I can make tea. I sat down at the table and started to mill the grub. The sausages are not too bad. You can taste the charcoal a bit, but I’ve eaten worse.
Ah, that was lovely. Maybe just another slice of that bread! I took one more of the Kimberley biscuits, feeling stuffed. I’ve eaten six. I looked at the packet in me hand. Nearly half of them gone. That’s enough. I better spare them. I’m feeling tired now. Me face is red hot. Think I better go to bed.
Right! I looked around the kitchen, getting the smell of burned cooking, seeing the smoke was beginning to clear out the door. I’ll get these washed up and clean up the kitchen then have me bath and head off to bed. I gathered up all the dishes and put them in the sink, turning on the hot water. It’s stone cold! The water’s cold! What will I do? There must be something to turn on. Jaysus! I don’t know how you work these things. I never had anything like this with me ma. We never had hot water or anything electrical. Not even an iron to press the clothes. Because we didn’t even wash them! They spent years sitting in the bath, floating under the disgusting, smelly water, and every now and then Jackser would look at them and roar, ‘Missus! Yeh should get up off yer arse and wash this stuff!’
‘Ah, don’t be annoyin me wit yer washin!’ the ma used to mutter, looking at the wall, curling her fingers like mad through her hair, looking for lice.
I rushed into the bathroom, turning on the tap. Cold! No hot water here either! Ah, Jaysus! What do I do? Maybe there’s a switch. I looked around the old bathroom, seeing the copper pipes snaking along the edges of the wall, and stared into the dirty white enamel bath with all the brown stains and the white enamel chipped out, leaving the metal show
ing. There’s nothing here! Only the bath and the one chair for putting your stuff on. oh, there should be a box. I flew out to the hall, seeing it sitting up high on the wall, and rushed into the kitchen to get a chair, then flew back and planked the chair underneath. No! Wait! That’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be interfering with the electricity. Jackser always said that. Every time a fuse blew in the house he would stand up on the chair, looking at the meter, afraid of his life to touch it. ‘Sally! Eh, you! The Martha one,’ he would roar at me. ‘Listen teh me carefully. This is a very dangerous thing here,’ he would say, stabbing the air with his finger, pointing at the box, looking afraid of his life. ‘I can get blown up! I’m warnin yehs! If anythin happens teh me, don’t come near me. Or youse will go the same way! Run and get the sweepin brush and make sure not teh touch me. Push me away from the danger wit the brush, then call the ambulance! Do youse get tha?’ he would say. Looking at us with the fear of God on him, and a warning look to make sure we understood he was preparing to lose his life, and we better make sure we didn’t get ourselves kilt so that we could save him. We would stand looking up at him. Me prayin like mad he would get kilt stone dead.
The ma stood holding a candle up, eating like hell the inside of her lip. Blinking and getting impatient, saying, ‘Yes, yes! We heard yeh! Now will yeh ever get on wit it an get the fuckin light back on!’
‘I’m warnin yeh, missus!’ he would say, whipping his hand back an throwing a look at the ma. ‘If I get kilt, it will be on your head!’
‘I hear yeh! I hear yeh! Holy Jaysus Christ al-mighty! The fuckin carry on a him,’ she would mutter to the wall, afraid of her life to go near it herself. I would stand, watching up at him, holding me breath and keeping well back. Prayin like mad he would go up with an unmerciful explosion! Nothing ever happened! It’s hard to kill a bad thing. Now here I am about to do the same thing.
I stood up on the chair, staring at the black meter with the wheel flying around, and numbers underneath. Right, that’s the box showing how much electricity it’s using. Yeah! I got that. Now! All these big white fuses are for . . . to keep it going! But how do you get the water to heat? I looked at a big black switch. Wonder what that’s for? It has to do something. Could be to heat the water. Right! I put out me hand, afraid of me life to touch it. Aaaaah, here goes! I grabbed the switch, pulling it down, and the place plunged into darkness! HELP! MAMMY!
I leaped off the chair, crashing me hands against the wall, and groped me way down the hall screaming. Ohh, somebody save me! The place might blow up any minute. Wha did I do? I started shaking like mad, the sweat pouring out of me. Where’s the hall door key? Where’s the fucking key?
I felt me way along the wall, making me way into the bedroom and felt me way over to the window, opening the curtains to let in a bit of light. What will I do? I can’t stop shaking with the fright. I’m afraid of me life of electricity. I could see if the light is on here. Maybe it’s only the hall and the kitchen. I put me hand out for the switch. No, I could get electrocuted. No, fuck yeh! Get on wit it! I could hear Jackser’s voice in me head. I felt like a child again.
Switch the fuckin thing on, missus! I reached out me hand and flicked down the little switch. Nothing happened! Oh, sweet Jesus. What have I done? Calm yourself down. Where’s me cigarettes? I groped over to the wardrobe, rooting for me bag, taking out me packet of cigarettes and struck the match, seeing me hands shaking. I don’t even think I’m supposed to be in this place for the Christmas. I think that aul one Missus Murphy would go mad if she found out! I can’t let them know I have nowhere to go. No home to go to. They might get rid of me. Say I’m too much trouble. No, I have to work this out meself. Sit down and have a cigarette. The place is not going to go up in fire!
Right! That must have been the switch to turn off the electricity. That’s all. Nothing more and nothing less. So all you have to do is switch it back on again. Right! I’ll do that when I’ve finished me cigarette.
I made me way into the kitchen and put the cigarettes sitting on the table. I’m going to have another smoke and a cup of tea, if this works out OK. But I can’t see me way around the fucking box. I could put me hand on something and get blown up. Oh, Mammy! I wish someone was here to do this for me, but I don’t know anyone. And anyway I couldn’t let strangers up here in the first place. The boxes in the hall could get robbed. Or the shop get broken into from the door downstairs leading into it. Jaysus! Me nerves are gone. Right! Just do it.
I groped me way back into the hall and held onto the back of the chair, putting me hand out ready to steady meself against the wall if I fell in the dark, or wanted to jump down quickly. I could barely make out the box in the pitch black. There’s not a chink of light coming in anywhere. I felt the little door hanging open and pushed it against the wall. Now for the switch. Keep your hands away from any wiring. I felt the top of the white fuses, and when I felt air I let me hand go in further. Right! Got it! Here’s the switch. I put one hand out, ready to jump, and the other one on the switch, and flicked it up, holding me breath for one split second, with me body locked, ready to sprint, and the lights blazed on. I blinked, looking around. I’m not blown up! The lights are back on! Me heart leaped with the excitement. I did it! Everything is OK again. That’s it! Never again. Leave everything well alone.
I grabbed the chair and flew down to the kitchen and looked at the cooker. The hobs were starting to heat up. Oh, thank God for looking after me. I’ll boil the kettle and use that for washing up. To hell with the bath. I can boil water in the kettle for that, too, and wash meself in the sink. Who needs the bath? I can wait until they get back. Right! Where’s the washing-up liquid, and the stuff for cleaning the cooker?
I washed the dishes, putting them away, and cleaned down the table then stood back, looking at the cooker gleaming white again. The smell is well gone out of the kitchen. Right! Just sweep that floor, then I can brush me teeth and wash me face in the sink then hit the bed. Where do they keep the sweeping brush?
I whipped open the long press in the corner next to the sink and stared at a copper boiler. Me eyes travelled to the top of the press. A white box with a fuse and a switch beside it said ‘Immersion’. This is for the hot water! It was in the ‘off ’ position. I flicked it on. Hot water! Oh, my God! All that trouble . . . it was here all this time. Now I have hot water, and everything is grand again. Oh, this is great.
I rushed over to the long narrow press in the other corner and there was the sweeping brush with a mop and bucket for washing the floor. Fuck that! I’m never washing that floor. I’m the shop assistant here. My days of being a skivvy, as the young ones in the convent used to call me . . . well, not any more!
I grabbed the brush and swept up the floor, then slammed it back in the press and rushed off down to me room to get me stuff ready for a nice hot bath. I put out me clean pyjamas. That nightdress is no good here. It’s too cold in bed. I must get meself another pair of pyjamas, but I have to watch the money. If aul Murphy has her way, she’d take the lot off me. As it is, I have to pay for me food out of the one pound ten shillings a week she gives me for me wages. So I have to pay for everything. Tea, sugar, milk, bread: it doesn’t seem to last long. I think the others must be using my stuff. I keep it separate from theirs. My tea is in a big coffee jar. They can keep their aul tea canister! And me sugar is in an empty jam jar that I washed out. The money flies out of me pocket. I can’t cook properly, only boil an egg, with bits of cheese on my bread, and sliced ham. That’s very dear altogether. So I’m not eating too much! But the money still goes. I only get me bus fare into town and buy ten cigarettes a day. Other than that, I don’t spend money on anything else. Hmm! This job is even less then I was getting in the convent. At least there I could save the five shillings they gave me every week for working up in the convent. Now I seem to have nothing left at the end of the week.
I put out me washbag with me toothpaste and toothbrush, and the new bar of Palmolive green soap I bought meself when I wa
s living with Clare. It’s still new. I didn’t have to use it, because I could use their stuff. Even here I use Molly’s soap. She always forgets it and leaves it sitting in the bath. Then stares down at me, giving me suspicious looks when she sees her soap getting smaller, after remembering to take it back in with her. Right! I’m using me own, especially as it’s Christmas. I pressed it to me nose. Hmm! It smells lovely. Wonder if she has any bath salts? I whipped me head down to her side. No, leave her stuff alone. She’ll know you were touching her things. Anyway, you wouldn’t like it if she touched your stuff. OK, get yourself ready.
I put on me nice warm dressing gown and slippers and made me way down to the bathroom, putting me stuff on the chair. Then switched on the hot tap. No, it’s not hot enough yet! I want it scalding. Right, put on the kettle and have a drop of tea and a cigarette. By the time I finish that, the water should be hot enough. oh, God! There’s nothing like having the few comforts. This is the life. I could feel meself getting back to me old self as I sat and smoked and drank the lovely sweet hot cup of tea. I haven’t a care in the world. No one to please but meself. For a while back there I could feel exactly as if I was a child all over again. Shivering in fear. With Jackser screaming and barking out his orders in me head. Even in me mind’s eye I could see him. It was like as if I had never moved away, grown up, and was well out of his clutches. That he was long gone behind me. No, for that short while, nothing had changed. I am locked with him again. Waiting for the terror to pass, then waiting for the time to pass, so I can escape him.