by Martha Long
Even now, deep inside meself I don’t really feel safe. It’s too soon since I got away from him. Anything can happen. That’s why I don’t want anyone knowing who I am. Or meeting anyone who knew me then. I even went into the Custom House and searched for a birth certificate to take back me own name. The one me ma gave me. Her own maiden name. Long! Jackser always put his name down for me. Pretending he was my father. So it was a shock when I went in and discovered he had put his name on me birth certificate when he met me ma. I now had two names down on me birth certificate. ‘What’s this?’ I roared at the fella behind the desk. ‘How did this happen? That aul fella is not my father! How could he put his name down as my father when he only met me ma when I was six years old?’
‘Hold on!’ he said, after looking at it. ‘I’ll get someone to come out and talk to you.’
‘Yes? I am the supervisor here. Can I help you?’
‘Take a look at this and explain it to me,’ I said, pushing the big book around to a grey-haired aul fella squinting at me through a pair of dispensary glasses hanging down on his nose. I stood, me breath coming in gasps, white with the rage, waiting for him to read it and explain how someone can just walk in and claim to be a child’s father.
‘Come into the office,’ he said. ‘We can talk in private.’
‘Fuck this,’ I snorted, banging me hands on the big thick wooden counter. I then followed him in through a door, waiting while he sat down at a desk covered in a mound of papers.
‘Take a seat,’ he said, opening the big book at the page where I was registered.
Then I started. ‘The world and his wife knows that aul fella is not related to me. I was with him when he went to the dispensary to talk to the aul fella there. Fucking Jackser wanted to get the labour money for me and Charlie!’
‘Please! Don’t use that kind of language,’ the aul fella said, shutting his eyes and putting out his hand in front of his face.
‘LISTEN!’ I roared. ‘I heard him talking to me ma about it. The same fucking week we moved in to live with him. THAT AUL FELLA IS NOT MY FATHER!’ I screamed. The supervisor went white. ‘Me ma’s sisters and brothers know that! And let me check my brother’s. Charlie’s! I want to check Charlie’s!’ I roared. ‘Because I can certainly tell you this. Jackser is most certainly not his father. I know the name of Charlie’s father. I remember every detail of him. Let’s see what’s on his birth certificate. What’s his date of birth and his full name? Charles Edward Long. I don’t know his exact date of birth. But I do know he was born five years after me. I remember everything. I even remember when me ma went into labour with him. There’s nothing I don’t remember.’
‘Look, he has me ma’s name. Long. And now that Jackser bastard’s name is added. So explain how he was able to do that.’ ‘It’s very simple,’ the supervisor said. ‘He went with your mother to a commissioner for oaths. Then in front of the commissioner he swore out an affidavit saying he was your father, and the father of your brother Charlie.’
‘Just like that?’ I said. Not able to take it in. ‘But people go through the mill, going to court to adopt children who are not their own, and this bandy aul bastard could just walk in and do it as easily as that?’
‘Yes. He was able to get the right information. As you say, the man in the dispensary that he talked to must have been the registrar for births, marriages and deaths. He would have known exactly how the process works.’
‘So what do I do now? This man is neither mine nor my brother Charlie’s father. They are not even married. Jackser was married to someone else, long before he met me ma. She never got married.’
‘Well, unless you can get your mother to admit he is not the father . . .’
‘But we both know that, me and the ma. The ma knows I know he’s not. Sure he always made sure to let me know I was not his bastard!’
‘Yes,’ the supervisor said, trying to get a word in and waiting for me to finish. ‘Unless she admits in an affidavit, in front of a commissioner for oaths. Then there’s nothing we can do about it. She swore under oath he was your father.’
‘Well, I am definitely not taking his name on my birth certificate.’
‘No, you don’t have to. See, here is the name you were registered with at birth. “Sally Long, Mother. Father unknown.” You are Martha Long. That is what your mother first put down when you were registered at birth. So you can have your original birth certificate with your mother’s name. That is the name you will be recognised with for the rest of your life. Whenever you apply for a birth certificate again, this is what you will be given. But you can’t have the long form of birth certificate. That will show Jackser as the father.’
‘OK,’ I said, feeling weak from the shock. ‘One day I am going to do something about this,’ I said. ‘That can’t be allowed to happen. A child’s name is robbed just like that! I thought birth certificates can never be changed. Well, in this instance . . .’
‘But in fact it’s not changed,’ he said. ‘The original entry is still there. Jackser’s name has just been added alongside it.’
‘Even years after I was first registered?’ I roared.
‘Yes! It’s all down to your mother,’ he said.
I took the short form of my birth certificate, seeing my name and date of birth. That’s all it said. I kept staring at it, thinking at least I have me name back. That was the first thing I did when I got out of the convent. I even left the children’s home where I was supposed to be training as a children’s nurse. The first time they let me out when I had the day off, I made me way to the Custom House to claim me name back, never realising he had added himself to mine and Charlie’s birth certificates. I thought all along he was just pretending his name was ours, never realising for one minute he had actually made it legal, getting himself on our birth certificates. They’d always said you can’t change that. But he did. You can do anything you like in this world to a child. It only took the ma to say I was his and the authorities jumped to do his bidding.
I walked away feeling a burning anger with Jackser and the ma. But most of all with the authorities. What had kept me going through all them years was the thought I was in no real way connected to him. He wasn’t married to me ma, because he was already married to someone else. So he couldn’t have married her anyway, even if he had wanted to. Me ma was never married. So I knew there was nothing he could do about making us his stepchildren. But all along he had worked it out. Straight from the very beginning. Fuck! That would have killed me if I had known. But I knew I would go back to my own name once I was grown up. So now I have.
But the authorities taking the word of a bastard like Jackser and the no-good ma! One day I will do something about that. I will fucking force the ma to admit she was a lying whore. That is all I had. The one thing me ma gave me. Her name. Jackser is not going to rob me of my identity.
I don’t know who my father is, and I’m not bothered to find out. He’s probably a tramp like Charlie’s father was. Walking the streets picking up cigarette butts. Begging for the shilling to stay at the Back Lane homeless hostel for men in the Liberties of Dublin. Then fucking off and leaving her to face her family, and the three of us ending up on the streets, looking for somewhere to stay. No! I’m not bothered about a father. He was the first one that got me ma into trouble in the first place. After that it was all downhill for her, until she fell into the clutches of that mad bandy aul bastard Jackser! So, whoever you are, Father, you can go and fuck yourself! I’m never going to go looking for yeh!
Anyway, I saw what that kind of carry on did to some of the girls in the convent, when they finally caught up with their mothers. Some of them had the door shut in their face. You never find the fucking fathers. Men! I started to roar me head off crying. I hate fucking men. Especially Jackser.
No, I hate that stupid selfish whore of a ma even more! The good-for-nothing cowardly bitch. I wouldn’t have even minded if she was a whore! At least she would have gotten paid for it. Then we would
have gotten something to eat. And maybe a roof over our heads! No, she was even too stupid to work that one out. Jaysus! If I ever find that I am going to have sex with a man, then I would start charging for it. To hell with that! If you’re going to sleep around, you might as well not be giving it out free! No, I’m never sleeping with a man unless I am going to marry him, and that’s not going to happen for a very long time. So no fella is going to get his hands on me. Never! I’ll never be like the ma.
Jaysus! When I think of all the men she slept with. Stupid cow! The most she got was one shilling and sixpence from the fella who used to sell the newspapers on the corner. Even then I had to drag it out of him when me ma sent me after him. Jaysus! I can still see her now. Sitting up in the bed, leaning herself on one elbow. ‘Jaysus, Martha. He didn’t leave me any money! I have no money to even buy a bottle of milk. Run after him quick an ask him teh lend us a few shillins.’
LEND US! Fuck! If I’d been her after giving him what he wants, it wouldn’t a been a lend! I would have turned the little bastard upside down and shaken every penny out of him. No, me ma had no sense. I would never let a man use me like that. Never mind let him make dirt of me. I think sex and money is at the root of all trouble. No, I’m going to live like a fucking Carmelite nun. Hunted and haunted, not having anything to do with sex. So that’s that!
I lifted me head, wiping me snots with the back of me hand after bawling me head off, feeling me anger going away. Gawd! Wait until poor Charlie finds out when he turns up some day looking for his birth certificate. Still, he can do what I did. Get a copy of the original one. At least I can use me own name again.
It’s funny how the rage only really started hitting me now when I started to think about it. I suppose I went into too much shock. I couldn’t really take it in. Yeah! It’s taken me until now to sit and think about it. Well, there’s nothing much I can do about it now. But the time will come. There’s a time and a place for everything. Right! The water must be scalding by now.
Me eyes shot wide open. It’s morning. Christmas Day! I stared around the room, seeing the light still on. Gawd! I went out cold, leaving the light on all night. Good! I’m getting me money’s worth for the ten shillings, that aul Murphy one is robbing off me.
I could see the light coming in the window through the thin curtains. I moved in the bed, feeling the cold hot-water bottle beside me. Gawd, that was lovely last night. Having all that heat with the lovely hot-water bottle. I must have been shattered. As soon as I hit the bed and snuggled up with me book and the lovely heat I went out for the count. I don’t even think I got past the first page. Where is it? I lifted me head, seeing The Carpet Baggers sitting on the floor.
Right, up you get. I leaped out of the bed, feeling rested and full of energy. I could hear church bells ringing to announce the start of the next mass. Right, I’ll have me breakfast and get ready for the mass after this one. What time is it? I walked over to take a look at Molly’s old clock sitting on one leg held up by a holy ornamental mug from Lourdes. Twenty past eight. Gawd, that’s great! It’s still very early, I’ll have the whole day to enjoy meself.
I pulled back the curtains, letting the early morning bluey-grey light make its way into the room. Then made up me bed and left me book and hot-water bottle sitting on the bed, waiting for me to come back and enjoy meself no end with a good read and the lovely comfort of a warm bed. I folded me pyjamas and left them on top of me pillow. Then stood back to see everything looking nice and neat and tidy. Yeah, I love that. The nuns trained me well. I love the order of having everything in its place. It’s a long way from what I was used to.
Now for breakfast. What will I have? Two boiled eggs and black crusted loaf with thick good butter plastered all over it. Right! I headed into the kitchen and switched on the cooker and filled the kettle. That’s going to take a while to boil. I think I’ll go and get meself ready. I rushed down and got me wash things and gave me face and neck a good wash and brushed me teeth. OK, what will I wear, I thought, as I headed up to the room. I’ll wear me best clothes – the frock and shoes and hat and coat the reverend mother bought me when I left the convent.
Ready! Gawd, I look lovely.
I slammed the hall door shut behind me and set off, walking down the road to the church, looking down at meself, seeing I looked lovely. I could smell the Palmolive soap off meself and I felt as good as anyone.
‘How many of you here would open your door to welcome Joseph and Mary carrying the Christ child in her womb? The child who was to become the king of all kings? How many of you would invite them in? Give them refuge? Sanctuary? She will not be carrying a sign saying “I am to be the mother of the Christ King!” NO!’ the priest boomed, frightening the life out of everyone. Bringing us all back to our senses. Making us all sit up and gape at him in astonishment. Instead of sitting here, taking in all the style. With the lot of us all dressed up to the nines, and me wondering what I’m having for me Christmas dinner. Will I put me pork chop under the grill along with the sausages and rashers? I’m not taking any chances this time and burning them! No, I want to enjoy meself, have the best time of me life. I can eat me chocolates, keeping some for tomorrow, St Stephen’s Day. That’s a very important day.
‘YO U WOULD PROBABLY SLAM THE DOO R IN THEIR FACES!’ he screamed, making everyone jump, me included. Interrupting me thoughts for a lovely day. I stared up at him along with everyone else. People’s faces had dropped. They even stopped coughing. You could hear a pin drop. All the mammies had muzzled the kids to shut up. Afraid of their life he would roar at them from the altar, even though we knew that wouldn’t happen. No, not on Christmas Day! But with the mood that aul priest was in . . . well, everyone was craning their necks looking up at him hanging out of the pulpit. His big bald shiny head and his matching shiny red face gaped down at us with disgust that we would not let Mary, carrying the baby Jesus, come into our homes and share in the Christmas dinner. Everyone looked very annoyed with him at the idea of him spoiling their lovely day with the stupid question of whether they would let Mary, the mother of Christ, born on this day – on this day, for God’s sake – into their homes! Of course they would!
‘The mass is ended. Go forth in peace,’ the priest said, making the sign of the cross, with his hand held stiff and sideways. ‘I wish each and every one of you a happy, holy and joyous Christmas,’ he said, looking to every side of the church. Then he bowed to the tabernacle, and swept himself off the altar, with the four little shiny-faced altar boys in their snow-white soutanes following his footsteps. One each side of him and two behind holding onto his alb. The people stood, with their bodies braced, waiting for him to clear the altar and disappear into the sacristy. Then everyone made a move out of the benches and we slowly made our way down the aisle and out into the Christmas morning. With the sun trying hard to make itself seen.
The air felt cold and dry, and I stood for a minute, still part of the crowd stopping to wish friends and neighbours a happy Christmas. Everyone was very excited. All gaping at each other’s style and leaning into each other, listening for the bit of gossip with gaping mouths, then laughing, and looking around for each other. With people wanting to make a move and get home to start the feast. Children ran in and out of the crowds of mammies and daddies and uncles and aunts, and grannies and granddads, and relatives and friends who had come specially to stay, and enjoy the
Christmas together. I felt the excitement, and I was all dressed up, too. I was just like them, a part of everything that was going on. I could talk to any of them and they would not turn away from me because I was a pauper, dressed in rags and bare feet and covered in sores. No, I look lovely.
I didn’t see anyone I could strike up a conversation with, because they were all busy talking to each other. So, it’s really a day when people only have time to talk with you for a few minutes if they know you, because they have to rush home and get everything going.
People started rushing off, the crowds disappearing very fast
. It was getting quieter now. I suddenly felt a bit lost. Which way to go? Up to the room or head left, slowly walking in the direction of town? There wouldn’t be many buses today. Anyway, I could walk. I’m not in a hurry anywhere. No, I won’t bother going back to the room. It’s far too early. I’ll take a walk in the direction of town then mosey back and cook me dinner.
I turned left out of the church grounds and started walking, keeping me hands in me coat pocket. Ah, here we are, the Bishop’s Palace. I stopped to look in through the big black gates. They’re locked. I looked in at the dark avenue with the huge trees covering the path, and wondered what the bishop was going to eat for his Christmas dinner! Probably a huge big roasted turkey served on a big silver platter, with mounds of roast potatoes, and gorgeous black Christmas pudding dripping in whiskey and shovelfuls of brandy butter. Hungry fucker! I bet if I went up there now and banged on his door demanding to share his dinner . . . ‘Why?’ he’d ask.
‘Because I like turkey and pudding and the rest of the lot that goes with it!’
‘So, why should I let you in? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you arrested for trespassing,’ I can hear him saying.
‘Because that red-necked priest was roaring at everyone in the church that we should share. That’s why! And because you’re the bishop. You have to show good example!’
Yeah, if you want to get yourself arrested, Martha, go on! Climb over the gate and have a go. Jaysus! The things I think of. I wouldn’t want to sit with him anyway, and probably end up praying with him for the rest of the day in the chapel, giving thanks for the lovely grub I got. Not on yer nelly! I got enough of that with the nuns. Hmm!
I looked around, seeing the empty streets, and spotted the bench. I sat down, feeling I hadn’t a care in the world. Ah, this is the life. Gawd! I remember the last time I sat here. It was years ago. I was in an awful sweat after robbing all the packets of cigarettes out of that priest’s saddle bag sitting on the back of his bike. There he was, minding his own business, up on the altar saying mass for the nuns in the convent, and I come along and rob him blind. I wonder what he thought when he saw the bag empty. Probably cursed me to hell! Then I robbed that bag with the chicken, out of the shop up the road. Gawd! Here I am now. All dressed up and nobody to answer to, nothing and nobody worrying me! I still can’t get over that. Yeah, life is definitely a bowl of cherries. Right, move on. It’s getting freezing cold sitting here.