by Martha Long
I have te be sent back te school, so I’m sent te Rutland Street School. When all the childre get inta school, they lock the doors. Tha’s te stop us escapin. There’s a lot of other kids, an they look a bit like me. So they’ll talk te me, but I have te be tested before they will decide if I’m one of them. There’s a few who are put sittin in the back of the class. I’d prefer te be wit the ones who behave themselves. They are not as hard as the dunces at the back. But I don’t know anythin, an I don’t know me letters or numbers or about anythin te do wit school. The teacher just asked everyone a question. But I don’t know wha she’s talkin about. A few of the childre are jumpin up an down wit their hands in the air, an one young one is holdin up the leg of her knickers an hoppin off the desk, an she’s lickin her snots comin outa her nose. ‘Miss! Miss! I know! I know!’ she shouts.
The teacher finally asks her, an she takes a big gulp of air, an then a big lick of her drippin snot, an shouts out the answer. The teacher is satisfied an says, ‘Now, you lot! Pay attention. Good girl, Lilly! You were the only one listening.’ Lilly looked aroun at the rest of us an made a face an gave a big sigh of breath, an we were ragin. The dunces at the back called her names an said they were goin te get her, an they were laughin. The teacher heard them an roared at them te, ‘Come up here, you ignoramuses!’ An she made them all line up an hold out their hands high in the air, an she brought the cane back an it came flyin down on their hands wit a whoosh through the air an a whack on the hand. She watched their eyes te see if they showed fear, but the brazen ones were like a block of ice. She put all her mighty strength inta the cane, but she didn’t get the better of them. When the five of them went back te their seats wit their hands roastin, they had a smirk on their faces, an everyone looked te see if there was any giveaway signs of softness. But they held their ground, an not one of them gave a sniffle. I could see tha’s how ye got te be tops an had everyone afraid of ye. Then ye’d have people admirin ye, no one would fight ye, an ye’d have lots a friends.
I was in the yard eatin me bun. On Friday, ye get a currant bun an a little bottle of milk. I prefer the other days, when ye get a sambidge, cos I don’t like currants. But I’m hungry. So I’m sittin on the ground wit me back te the wall an tryin te keep me legs in, cos the other kids are goin mad, tearin aroun an pullin an draggin each other. An I don’t want te get kicked, cos me legs are always painin me. I’m sortin the currants outa the bun, an Lilly comes over. ‘Do ye not want yer bun? I’ll take it if ye don’t want it!’ Lilly says.
‘Ah, yeah! I’m eatin it meself, but ye can have me currants.’
‘Lovely!’ Lilly says, an sits down beside me. ‘Ye’re new,’ she says. ‘Where were ye at school before here?’
‘Gardiner Street,’ I says. ‘What’s it like here? Them young ones who was hit by the teacher look vicious.’
‘Ah, I don’t mind them. I have me big sister. She’d tear them alive!’
‘Ye’re great in class!’ I said. ‘Do ye know yer letters an can ye do sums?’
‘Yeah, I know me letters. I watch me sister an she learnt me.’
‘Ye’re lucky,’ I said. ‘Look! Will ye learn me a few letters, cos I’d love te be able te write me name. An then maybe sometime I’d be able te learn te read. Will ye help me? Will ya? An I’ll give ye me currants on a Friday.’
‘Yeah, course I will, Martha,’ an the bell rang. I felt lovely an warm inside me, an Lilly linked her arm wit me. An we stuck together, laughin an duckin outa the way at the slaughter tha was goin on, te get first in the line.
The teacher gave me a new copybook an pencil when I was goin home. ‘Now!’ she said. ‘Don’t lose these, and you are to bring them to school in the morning with your homework done and clean. No rubbing out, please! I’ve written down what you are to do. Now run along and be here before the bell rings, or you will be locked out and marked absent, and the school inspector is keeping his eye on you! That’s all!’
‘Yes, Miss! No, Miss! Thank ye, Miss!’ an I flew out the door, happy wit school, afraid of her, an wishin I could do me homework, an she’d smile at me an I’d be one of her good girls.
When I got down onta the street, Lilly was waitin fer me. ‘Wha kept ya?’ An I told her about the teacher. ‘Ah, don’t be mindin her, her bark’s worse than her bite. She’ll be all right when ye get te know her,’ Lilly said. An we linked arms until we got across the Diamond an on te Sean McDermott Street. Then she turned right back up te Summerhill, an I turned left, draggin meself home.
Me heart was down in me belly now, an the fear was back in me chest. I started te run, an I was wonderin where te hide me copybook an pencil. Jackser tore the pages outa the last one, an me brother scribbled an chewed wha was left of it.
When I got back, I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I knocked a bit harder an listened. It was all quiet. They must be all gone out. I sat on the stairs fer a minute te think. I know what I’ll do, I’ll sit on the steps out on the street. Maybe I might get someone passin who’ll give me a hand te do me sums an show me wha the letters are. Ye never know yer luck! I’m goin te be like Lilly an get tha teacher te think I’m great!
I sat there waitin. A few aul biddies passed me, tellin each other a pack of lies. ‘I’m not tellin ye a word of a lie, may I be struck stone dead,’ one aul one said. ‘An the smell of porter offa her, this hour of the day.’ The other one said, ‘An was it enjoyable, after all tha?’ An then the two of them stopped fer a rest, hangin onta the railins beside me.
‘Ah, lookit tha young one wit the mouth gapin open, listenin an takin in everythin!’
The other one looked at me, annoyed her story was interrupted. ‘Shut yer mouth, you, before ye catch flies!’ Then she shook herself an fixed the bottle of porter she had hidden in her shawl. ‘Come on, Nellie, I need te do me piss.’ An they moved past me, leanin in an outa each other te keep themselves movin. The smell offa them was like how me an Charlie smell first thing in the mornin after pissin the bed. An it only eases when we’ve been in the fresh air fer a while.
I looked up an down. There’s nobody aroun. I didn’t think I was goin te get anyone te stop an talk, an I don’t think they’ll be back fer a while. I know what I’ll do! I’ll go up an see Lilly! Yeah, great idea. No, I won’t bother bringin me copybook, cos I’ll be worryin about losin it, an I won’t be able te play. I dashed up the stairs an looked fer some place te hide it. It’ll be grand on the top landin. Nobody goes up there, an the aul woman who lives there won’t rob it.
I ran up the hill onta Parnell Street, turned right an crossed Gardiner Street, an up Summerhill. I didn’t know where she lives, but it should be easy te ask someone. As I came up Summerhill, a gang of young fellas – they were all about six, seven an eight years old – were playin cowboys an injuns. There was about six of them. ‘Hey, lookit her!’ they roared. ‘Let’s get her!’
I stopped fer a minute te think which way I’d run. An before I knew it they were chargin aroun me doin an injun war dance. ‘I’m lookin fer Lilly!’ I squeaked, pretendin I wasn’t afraid. ‘Do ye’s know where she lives?’
They stopped, an the bigger young fella, he was about nine, stabbed me in the chest wit his finger an said, ‘Where do ye come from? Ye’re not allowed up here!’
‘I’m lookin fer Lilly!’ I said. ‘She’s me friend!’
‘Ye’re not gettin te see no Lilly up here!’
‘I’m from Sean McDermott Street,’ I said.
‘Well, go back there an stay there. Who do ye think ye are? Who told ye ye can come up here?’
‘Let’s mill her,’ a little young fella said.
I knew I was outnumbered, so I decided te talk me way outa it. ‘Listen, if ye let me go, an tell me where Lilly lives, I’ll let ye’s play on me big brother’s bike. It’s a lovely new three-wheeler. Me uncle brought it over from America. He’s a millionaire!’
They all stopped te think. ‘Ye’re a liar!’ the big young fella said.
‘No, we don’t beli
eve ye!’ they all shouted. ‘Show us the bike an show us yer money if ye’re a millionaire!’ An they were lookin at me rags an no shoes on me feet. ‘Get her!’
I screamed, ‘No! Wait! Wait, I can prove it.’ An they all stopped again. ‘Get me Lilly an she’ll tell ye! She was there when me rich uncle was puttin all his suitcases inta the big black motor car, an he had a suit on an a big belly from loads a feedin. An a ten-gallon hat on his head wit a big fat cigar in his mouth. An he gave me a red ten bob note. I was supposed te buy meself a new pair a shoes, but I didn’t bother. I spent it on sweets an the pictures instead.’
They all nodded their heads an agreed tha was the best thing te do. ‘An did he give ye anythin else?’ the big young fella asked.
‘Yeah! The big three-wheeler bike fer me brother an a fur coat fer me ma. She’s in great style now.’
‘An did ye get anythin else?’ they asked me.
‘Yeah! A pair of rollerskates.’
‘Jaysus, I’d love tha!’ they said.
Then the big fella said, ‘Why’re not wearin them an flyin up an down then if ye got them? I don’t believe ye! Ye’re tellin us a pack a lies!’
‘No!’ I said. ‘I can’t wear them, cos I haven’t got me shoes.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ they said. ‘Tha’s true!’
‘Come on, then,’ the big young fella said. ‘We’ll take ye te where Lilly lives.’
On the way, one fella asked me wha’s me uncle’s name.
‘Eh!’ I was tryin te think, an I said, ‘Roy Rogers.’
‘Who?’ they all screamed, an they stopped wit their mouths open. ‘Roy Rogers an his horse Trigger? We know him, he’s a cowboy in the pictures! Ye were makin a dirty eejit of us. Get her, Gang! We’re goin te mill ye te mash!’
I shot off, straight onta the road, makin cars screech te a stop. I raced up Summerhill, an when I looked back, the cars an vans an horses an carts were pulled out in front of each other, an the people were hangin out, wavin their fists an callin them all the names under the sun. The young fellas were caught between the traffic, an a hackney cab driver was lashin out wit his whip at them. But the young fella an another one behind him was tearin after me, an I was tryin te lose them by turnin onta Rutland Street an shootin in one of the hall doors an slammin it behind me.
I stayed in the middle of the hall, waitin, wit me heart poundin, an tryin te get me breath back. If they come in, I’m not backed inta a corner. I’ll duck past them an out onta the street again. I crept out an looked up an down. They were gone! I won’t go back tha way again. I dashed across the road an down past Rutland Street School.
By the time I got home it was tea time, an I went up te the landin an got me copybook an pencil. It was still where I’d left it. I came down onta me landin an knocked on the door, no answer. Good job fer me. They won’t know I was missin. So I went back up te the old woman’s landin an sat down te rest meself. I can wait here an listen fer them. I like this place best, cos it’s quiet an I feel safe up here, an nobody bothers me. It would be great if I had a doll. I could sit here an dress her, an I could hold her in me arms an mind her, an I’d have company. I’m thinkin, if I could find somewhere like this place, I could get away from Jackser an everyone, an no one would be able te bother me. All I’d need is somethin te eat an somethin te wrap meself in te keep me warm at night. An then I could wait until I’m old enough, an start workin an find a place fer meself te live. Then I wouldn’t be at the mercy of anyone. But how would I get the food? An even if I found somewhere safe, people would ask questions. They wouldn’t let me be. There’s nowhere te go. I’ll just have te wait. An I’d be worried about me mammy an Charlie.
I heard them comin up the stairs, an me heart jumped. Me head started te fly. Right! Have I done anythin wrong? Is there somethin I might have forgotten te do? I’ll stay here until I see which way the wind blows. If he’s in a mood, I’ll have te think up somethin te put him in good form. Pity I didn’t get any money, maybe fer doin people’s messages. Then I coulda bought him five Woodbines, tha’d stop him hittin me. Pity I wasted tha time. Me ma arrived on the landin holdin the little babby. An I watched Jackser puffin up the stairs, carryin the big folded-up pram. It was a silver carriage walker wit big springs! An it was very deep inside wit a lovely big hood an apron. ‘Nothin but the best fer me son,’ Jackser said when he bought it second-hand wit the Childre’s Allowance money an the week’s labour money. He put the pram down an put the key in the door.
I heard Charlie comin up the stairs a long way down. I looked over the banisters, an he was comin up on his hands an knees. He was lookin up, an he saw me lookin down. An he gave a little whine an tried te come up faster. Me heart leapt at the sight of him, an I forgot Jackser an rushed down te help Charlie up an give him a big kiss. He was tired, an he put out his arms fer me te carry him.
‘Ah, where were ye?’ I said te him. ‘Did ye have a great time? Ye’re home now! Come on, I’ll help ye.’ An I held onta the banister an held his hand an pulled him up. Jackser was startin te light the fire, an me ma was lightin the gas te put on the water fer the tea. The babby was lyin in the middle of the bed, wrapped in his blue frilly shawl. He was kickin his legs an screamin. Me ma told me te give him his soother, an I looked at Jackser te see if he’d say somethin, cos he might not want me near his babby. But instead, Jackser turned aroun, an snufflin, said te me ma, ‘Jaysus, tell Martha, didn’t we have a great day, Sally! Man alive! Ye should a seen the dinner we got, it was fuckin lovely. Wasn’t it, Sally! An pipin hot, an a big bowl of soup wit hunks of bread, an a pot of tea. It was a new convent we went te, an she gave yer mammy ten bob. A really nice nun, we struck lucky meetin her. An then we went inta a shop an bought a pipin-hot apple tart. An we all sat down on a bench an ate it. I thought of ye, an I said te yer mammy, “Poor Martha, she’s missin this!” So, here, go down te the chip shop an get yerself a bag of chips.’
I took the shillin he gave me, an I looked aroun me. Me ma was smilin an agreein wit Jackser, an I gave the babby his soother an took the chance of givin the babby a kiss on his face. His tiny face was soft an brown, an he was lookin at me wit his lovely blue eyes. Jackser’s is brown! An he sucked on the soother an was lookin aroun him fer me ma, an he was sayin, ‘Golly, Golly, Golly.’ I wanted te pick him up an kiss him te nothin. But Jackser likes me te keep away from him. An Charlie was still standin in the middle of the room wit his coat on, waitin fer someone te look after him. An he was very tired. I took his coat off an brought him inta bed, an took off his trousers an shoes an covered him up. I left the door open in case he wanted te get up an come te me ma. Then I was out the door an down the street fer me chips, an I was jumpin inta the air wit bein so happy.
Me an Jackser are sittin at the kitchen table. It’s grand, the bit of comfort since we got the table an two chairs. He’s tinkerin aroun wit a big radio, it’s called a ‘Bush’. He came in the door wit it today an I couldn’t believe it. ‘Will we be havin music from it, Jackser?’ I said.
‘I hope so, if I can find out wha’s wrong wit it.’
I sat waitin patiently, rememberin te let me breath out, cos it’s hurtin me stomach. I gave meself a big shake an crossed me legs an me arms. An I put me head down on the table. I was tryin not te fall asleep, cos I didn’t want te miss anythin. Me ma was dozin in the bed. She had the babby under her arm, an he was wide awake. He was enjoyin suckin away on his soother, makin big sucky noises an lookin me ma up an down, an wonderin why she had her eyes closed. Then he’d lose the soother an wriggle his head, tryin te catch it in his mouth, an say, ‘Ah! Ah! Grr! Grr!’ an me ma would open her eyes an shove the soother back in his mouth an hold it wit her finger. An the babby would go back te his big sucky noises an slap away at me ma’s chest wit his tiny hand, enjoyin himself. Charlie was fast asleep in the bedroom, an the lovely fire we had earlier was settled down te a red glow. An I couldn’t believe we were really goin te get music.
But Jackser says, ‘I have it! There’s the problem, this
valve here was loose.’ He switched it on an there was a cracklin noise, an then he turned the big knob fer a while, an suddenly a beautiful, melodious man’s voice burst inta the room wit, ‘This is the BBC.’ I shot up in me chair, me back goin rigid wit excitement. An then we heard this music! ‘Radio Luxembourg. Radio Luxembourg,’ an Jackser shot up an lit the gas an put the water on te boil. He made a pot of tea an went over te me ma in the bed, an said, ‘Sally! Do ye want a sup of tea?’
Me ma stirred an opened her eyes, an the babby stopped suckin an shot his little head aroun te look at Jackser. Me ma said, ‘I won’t bother,’ an the babby shot his head back te mooch fer his soother. Me ma put it in his mouth an closed her eyes again, an the babby went back te the contentment of suckin his soother an slappin me ma’s chest. Jackser poured me a sup of tea an one fer himself. An he moved his chair quietly over beside the fire an lit up a Woodbine. An we sat listenin. Then I heard the most beautiful music, an suddenly I was outa me body an flyin. An I wanted te cry inside meself. I wasn’t dead any more, I was lifted away, far away. I can do anythin. I can be somebody, I can be beautiful, I can be gentle, I can be rich, I can smell good. The world is waitin fer me. I can be what I want. Then it ended. An I was back in the room. I opened me eyes slowly an took in everythin aroun me. One day I’ll be able te stop this. Nobody will keep me down. I’ll work hard, an I’ll be at the top, cos I don’t want anyone lookin down on me. I want te be in a position, if someone treats me like dirt, cos they think they’re better than me, I’ll be able te say, ‘Ye’re not comin te me cocktail party!’ An the best bit is, they didn’t know I was rich, cos braggin about it is no good, they have te be friends wit me cos they like me. Tha’s the only way they’ll know.
I heard Jackser say, ‘Ah, tha’s lovely, tha’s real music. Wha did the man say it was?’ An cos I was easy in meself, I was able te tell him.
‘He said it was written by a man called Greig. It’s called “Morning”, an he wrote it the mornin he woke up after his weddin!’