by Martha Long
‘But I was helpin her, Sister, an cos she doesn’t know anythin she started te call me names!’
‘I didn’t, Sister,’ I said. ‘She said I was pure stupid!’
‘No, I didn’t, you said tha,’ the young one said, an then she started te cry.
The whole class turned on me then an said I was terrible. So the nun turned te the class an put her fingers up te her mouth an said, ‘The next one who speaks will be kept back after school.’ Then she told the blackboard one te go out te the tilet an blow her nose. An she looked at me an smiled, an put her hand on me head an said in a whisper, ‘Be a good little girl for Sister, won’t you, Martha?’
An I said in a whisper, ‘Yes, Sister, I’ll be very good fer ye.’ An I sat there fer the rest of the day lookin up at her an wishin she was me mammy!
This mornin, when we were gettin ready te go out te our break, everyone was shoutin. So Sister said we were te be very quiet. We all stood up an someone gave their seat an unmerciful bang. Sister asked, ‘Who did that?’ An nobody answered. So she said we were goin te wait until the person responsible owned up on their honour. But nobody owned up on their honour. So we waited. The young one in the next row beside me is always annoyin me. She has a Cleopatra hairstyle an she always stares over at me until I look at her, then she makes a face at me an flicks her hair wit her hand an turns away. I can’t flick me hair back at her, cos it’s too short an stands up like straw. Me hair is still growin back from when I had the sores an me ma had te cut it. ‘I’m tellin it was you,’ she whispers.
‘No, it wasn’t!’ I said.
An I’m tryin te think wha name te call her when Sister asks me gently, ‘Was it you, Martha?’
‘No, Sister!’ I said.
An then a young one owned up an suddenly said, ‘It was me, Sister, an I’m sorry, Sister, an I’m on me honour, Sister.’ An we all went out te the playground. It was freezin cold in the yard, an I didn’t run aroun. I was too cold an stood in a corner outa the wind. I didn’t bother te play wit the other childre, cos they wouldn’t play wit me anyway. The nun appeared an told us te gather up in two lines. Cleopatra was tormentin me in the other line. She kept flickin her hair an sayin she was goin te tell on me. I was ragin an tryin te think how I’d get me own back when suddenly Sister called me outa the line. As I passed Cleopatra, she cackled at me. ‘Now, I told ye I was goin te get ye inta trouble. Ye’re fer it!’
Sister brought me inta a little room off the school yard an it had shelves of clothes. She put me sittin up on the table an took off me rags an put a lovely warm frock on me an a snowy-white soft cardigan wit pearl buttons, an a pair of white knee socks an a pair of red sandals. Then she combed me hair an lifted me down an stood back te admire me. Then she rushed over te the sink an dipped a corner of the towel under the tap an wiped me face an damped me hair down. I walked out the door wit springs on me feet, an I was lovely an warm. The childre were still lined up an were very quiet when we appeared. An they all looked me up an down. I bounced past Cleopatra, an her jaw was hangin down te her belly. Then she tightened her mouth an squinted her eyes at me. I threw back me head an flicked me hair, an patted me new cardigan an marched past her.
When I got home, Charlie was sittin outside in a big pram wit springs an a hood. It was lovely. I ran up te the room an asked, ‘Can I take him fer a walk?’
‘No!’ me ma said. ‘Have yer tea an bread an go out an watch the pram.’
I was outside sittin on the steps an fed up lookin at the pram. The babby was asleep. I wouldn’t have been able te get the pram down the steps, cos it was too heavy, so I couldn’t push the pram off an take him fer a walk. A young one from school was passin an asked me te go wit her fer a message down te Summerhill. I said, ‘No, I can’t. I have te mind the babby.’ But she wouldn’t believe me an kept on askin. I was dyin te go, so I said, ‘Yeah, OK.’
We were on our way back up Summerhill when suddenly I got an awful blow tha sent me flyin out onta the road an nearly under a car. I didn’t know wha hit me until Jackser picked me up by me neck an kicked me back onta the footpath. I didn’t get time te get me wind back before he had me offa the ground again an was shakin me. ‘I told ye! I told ye!’ he said as he boxed me. ‘Not te leave the child alone. Ye were told te mind the pram.’ I was convulsin up an down, me whole body was shakin, an great sobs were comin outa me. Loads a people were aroun, but nobody bothered te interfere. He kicked me again, sendin me flyin te the ground, an roared, ‘Get up! Get movin, cos I’m goin te kick ye all the way back te tha pram.’
14
Jackser took me off on his bike te collect the bread from the convents. I sat up on the crossbar an held on te the handlebars. Jackser was gettin ready te jump onta the bike, but first he had te do his habits. ‘Now! Well ...’ an then he started te suck air up inta his nose very fast an at the same time stretch an shake his right arm inta the air while bendin his head te the ground. He can’t help it, he does tha after he gets an idea or before he does somethin interestin. He bursts the arse offa all his trousers doin that, an he always has te sew his coat under the arms. But this time he was tryin te hold the bike wit me on it an do his habits at the same time. The bike started te see-saw out onta the road, till me feet were touchin the ground, an then back te Jackser, faster an faster. I started te squeal an went, ‘Ah, Mammy, help!’
Jackser stopped suddenly an said, ‘What! Wha the fuck is tha about?’ I jumped offa the bike at the same time as he went back te his snortin an salutin an bendin, an he lost his balance, toppled over the bike an rolled onta the road. He lay there lookin very white, an he said, ‘I’m done fer! Run in an get Sally. Tell her te get the ambulance. I’m damaged!’ I kept lookin at him, not knowin wha te do, an a man came along on a bicycle an picked him up an said, ‘There now, you’ll be all right. Ye just gorra fright.’
Jackser held onta the railins, an I went up te tell me ma. ‘Ma! Ma!’ I said, ‘Jackser fell off his bike an ye’re te come down.’
‘Is he hurt?’ she asked.
‘No, Ma, he’s just shocked. But he thinks he’s near te death.’
Me ma laughed an said, ‘It’s a pity he’s not!’
‘Yeah, Ma, it serves him right.’
Then I heard him comin up the stairs, an he was moanin, ‘Sally! Sally! Are ye there, Sally?’
The man was helpin him up an sayin, ‘Ye need a strong sup a tea, very sweet, wit lots a sugar fer the shock. Don’t underestimate shock, it can kill ye!’
I started te laugh, an me ma was pinchin me te stop, but she was laughin, too. An I started laughin harder, an I was afraid, cos I knew he’d kill me. But I laughed even more. An when his head appeared aroun the banisters wit the man helpin him, he was annoyed cos we hadn’t rushed down. Tears were comin down me ma’s face, an Jackser said, ‘Are ye’s fuckin laughin?’
‘No, Jackser!’ I shouted. ‘We were cryin! An we were afraid te come down in case ye were dead.’ Me ma snorted an ran back inta the room, an I ran after her.
Jackser looked very suspicious, but he sat at the fire, suppin his tea an smokin his Woodbine, an talkin te me ma about death. ‘Ye never know the hour or the day,’ he kept sayin. ‘I’ve an awful fear about dyin, I have, Sally. Jaysus, I have te take care of meself!’
Me ma sat the other side of the fire. Her eyes were closin an she was dozin off. She just kept murmurin, ‘Hm, Hm,’ te keep him quiet. I lay on the bed wit Charlie’s head in me lap, an I was strokin his long curls. His eyes were open, but he was relaxin an enjoyin the peace. Just listenin te Jackser talkin quietly.
The next day we took off fer the convents. Jackser had a lump on the back of his head, an he kept gettin me te feel it. ‘Is it big? Can ye feel it?’ he kept askin me.
‘Yeah, it’s huge, Jackser!’ I kept sayin.
‘I coulda been kilt, ya know! Tha was a close call.’
‘Yeah, ye coulda been kilt,’ I kept sayin. An was very disappointed he wasn’t. I was thinkin, me ma was right, the bad live longer.
‘But he’s a bishop, Jackser! He’s a very holy man,’ I said. ‘He’s supposed te give te the poor!’
‘Wha have they ever given you?’ he said. ‘It took someone like me te take youse in an give ye’s a home! Listen te me an ye won’t go wrong. I’ll teach ye everythin there is te know about life.’
We pedalled up the back entrance te the convent. We came along a dark road surrounded by a high wall, wit trees on our right an green fields on the other side, wit vegebales growin in some parts an cows grazin in others. There was a little lodge house fer the farmer an his family. I could see the childre from the convent playin in the fields. They were wearin pinnies over their frocks, an I wondered if they’d like te swap places wit me. We cycled past the childre’s buildin an came aroun te the women’s part. Here the women worked in the laundry an never saw the light of day. We saw a coupla them comin outa the big buildin an goin inta the yard. They were carryin buckets an wore wellingtons, an berets on their heads. Their hair was cut very short an was stone grey. They stopped te stare at us.
‘Yer mammy nearly ended up as one of them,’ Jackser said. ‘An you’d a been put away like them childre round the corner. Ye should remember how lucky ye are!’ he said te me. I felt me heart begin te ache an wondered why God doesn’t listen te me. If me ma was in here an I was wit the childre, then Jackser couldn’t get his hands on us. Then I looked at the women fer a long time, an I pitied them. They were locked up, an I wondered why we went on livin. I was feelin old, even though six is not supposed te be old.
When we got aroun te the front of the convent, we walked down te the grotto, where there was a statue of St Bernadette prayin te Our Lady. Jackser took off his cap an held it between his hands. ‘Get down on yer knees an say a prayer,’ he said te me. ‘Let the nuns see ye prayin. They might even give us a drop a soup if ye impress them. Ye never know,’ he said, ‘we could strike lucky an even get a bit a dinner.’
I was prayin hard wit me eyes closed, hopin we’d get a bit a dinner an Jackser would stay in good form, when suddenly he shouted, ‘Fuck me! Wha’s tha?’ an a tramp came outa the bushes behind us an crept up te Jackser.
‘Have ye got an aul smoke?’ he said te Jackser. An the man was weighed down wit coats an trousers an jumpers, an he was wearin three hats. An he was holdin everythin together wit a rope tied aroun his waist.
‘No, I just smoked me last butt,’ Jackser said, an we went up an rang the bell.
A woman came out wearin a blue smock like they usually wear in shops. She had men’s laced shoes, an her hair was very short an grey. She had hairy legs an no stockins, an a beard on her chin. She looked at us an said nothin, then went back in an closed the door. We waited. ‘That’s “Hairy”,’ Jackser said. ‘She’s been here fer years, an the nuns trust her. Can ye see why? Wha man would have her?’ Jackser walked over te the grass an sat down wit his back restin against a statue of the Sacred Heart. ‘Ah, it’s lovely here. Can ye smell the fresh air?’ I looked aroun at all the green grass an the daisies growin in it. An all the lovely flowers an the big trees. ‘There isn’t a sound te be heard,’ Jackser said. ‘I grew up in a place like this. I was only seven an me brother was eight when they took us away from me poor mother. She’s dead now, God rest her, an it’s all my fault. I kilt her. I broke her heart. It was the drink, ye see! The aul drink ruined me. I could’ve made somethin of meself, but I threw it all away. I’m married ye know!’
I said nothin, I just listened. ‘Oh, yeah! I married a dealer from Moore Street. She was a fine-lookin woman, blonde, she was. But it didn’t last. Three weeks is all she stayed, then she left me.’
‘Why’d she leave ye, Jackser?’ I asked.
‘Ah, we had a bit of a row. I was drunk, she was givin me too much lip, an I gave her a smack. But she was stone fuckin mad! I woke up tied te the fuckin bed, an she was on top of me chest wit a big fuckin bread knife held te me throat. “Ye’re not touchin me again. Cos I’m not stayin. If I ever see ye again, I won’t hesitate te cut yer throat. Do ye get that?” she says, then she was gone out the door, leavin me in tha state. I was one lucky man. Well rid a her, I can tell ya! I’m still not the better of it. Ye’d never believe it, but there’s mad bastards out there, Martha, I’m tellin ye!’
‘I know, Jackser.’ An I thought te meself, I’m never goin te be like me ma. I thought the dealer in Moore Street was great, I’d love te meet her.
The door opened an Jackser rushed over, whippin his cap offa his head, but he put it back on when he saw it was only Hairy. She handed him two stale loaves, an he asked her fer a drop a tea. ‘The kitchen’s closed,’ she said.
‘Well, I’ll have te see the nun,’ he said. ‘This child is fallin from the hunger. So will ye go an send her out.’
‘She’s in the chapel getting her prayers, and she won’t be out for a while.’
‘We’ll wait,’ Jackser said gruffly, an Hairy slammed the door.
‘Dried up aul fucker!’ Jackser said te the door. ‘I hate the Church. Them fuckers are the ruination of this country. Them bastards destroyed me an poor Eddie in Artane. I was out sowin potatoes when I was only your age. Workin in all weather. Me boots were too small fer me feet, an they crippled me. Them Christian Brothers were very vicious. They’d wait until yer back was turned, then they’d suddenly run at ye an punch the head off ye. But I learnt tailorin. Yeah, I’m a tailor, they gave me good trainin. They always made sure everyone left wit a trade. I coulda made somethin of meself. But I sold the key of me mother’s house. The day we buried her, when me brothers an sisters came home tha night, they’d no home te go te. I drank the money in the pub. They had te get the money saved an take the boat te England. They never set foot in this country again, an they never forgave me fer it. An I don’t deserve it. I put me mother in her grave. I tormented her wit the drink, ye see. I was mad fer the drink. I try now te keep away from it, but it’s very hard when it gets a grip on ye.’
Jackser went up an rang the bell, an the nun came out. Jackser blessed himself te the nun an bowed his head an said things are hard fer him at the moment. If she could see her way te maybe givin him a bit a food te take home te the childre, he’d get us all te pray fer her. She said she’d see wha she could do, an she went in an closed the door. ‘Say a prayer she’ll give us somethin,’ Jackser said. ‘Otherwise, we’ll have te move fast. It’s gettin late, an I want te do a few more before we mosey home.’
By the time we arrived back in Rutland Street, it was nine o’clock at night. Jackser had te peel me hands off the bars of the bike, an I couldn’t straighten up. I was frozen solid. We had two pillacases of food, though, an Jackser had more wrapped up in his jumper. Me ma had the fire goin an the lamp lit on the table when we arrived in. She turned up the wick te give us more light, an I could smell the paraffin. Charlie was rockin up an down in the bed wit excitement when he saw me comin in. An me ma’s eyes lit up when she saw the bags of food. ‘The kettle is boiled,’ she said, laughin an followin Jackser’s hands takin out the tinfoil filled wit roast meat. We had lumps a beef drippin fer the bread an fer fryin, strings a sausages an lumps a cooked bacon, loads a bread, an loose tea, an bags a sugar. An we didn’t break the eggs wrapped up in Jackser’s socks. He robbed them from the hen house at the back of the home fer the blind off Drumcondra.
I was out on the street playin, but there was no one aroun te play wit. I was standin there, leanin against the railins, mindin me own business when a young fella came along an gave me a shove. Then he started laughin at me an callin me names. ‘Eh! Skinny, smelly, ye can’t catch me!’ I was ragin, an I looked at him. He was bigger than me. Then he started throwin stones at me. I could feel me heart poundin, but I waited. I’m not lettin him get away wit tha.
As soon as his back was turned an he bent down te
pick up somethin from the ground, I charged. I grabbed him by the jumper an knocked him down. He rolled over an started te lash out wit his legs, still callin me smelly. But I dropped me knees on his stomach an grabbed his hair. Then I stood up, still holdin tight te his hair. ‘Do ye give up?’ I shouted.
‘No! I’m goin te get ye fer this,’ he roared, so I pulled his hair tighter te the ground, an he couldn’t get a hold a me. ‘Ah, let go!’ he shouted.
‘Do ye give in?’
‘Let go! Lemme go! Ma! Ma! Mammy! I give in, I give in!’
Then a man came along, an I let go. The young fella ran off. I was lookin at the man te see if he would roar at me fer fightin, but he just laughed. He was all dressed up, an he must be back from England, I thought. He called me over, an he was still laughin, but I hesimitated, ye never know ... Then he put his hand in his pocket, an I shot across the road. He handed me two shillins, an he said, ‘Ye’re a little topper, tha young fella won’t be back fer more.’ An he looked down at me. ‘Jaysus, them eyes a yours are spittin!’ An he bent down te me. ‘Listen, you remind me of meself when I was your age. Only fight when ye have to. There’s other ways of beatin them.’
‘How, Mister?’ I asked.
‘Work hard an get away from them. Be yer own man. Don’t look down on anyone, but don’t look up te anyone either.’
‘Where do ye live, Mister?’ I asked him.
‘I’m livin in England, an I have me own buildin business now. I never looked back.’
‘Do ye have childre?’
‘No! I’m not married,’ then he laughed an said I’d be grand. ‘I’d better hurry,’ he said. ‘I’m meetin me brothers. Go on down an get a few sweets, an don’t spend the money all at once.’ Then he was gone. I watched him go, hurryin down Summer Street, an I wanted te run after him an ask him will he take me back te England wit him. But I knew I’d have te take me mammy an me little brother. An somehow I knew me mammy wouldn’t suit him. She’s too quiet fer someone like him. Or maybe he wouldn’t like her hairy legs. I felt I’d lost somethin, an I turned aroun an started te walk home. I was lookin at the shiny two shillins, an I started te run. I’ll bring this up te me ma an watch her face break inta a laugh. Me world is grand an everythin is lovely when I see me ma laugh, cos it means everythin is OK.