Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes

by Martha Long

  ‘Come in, my dears! Let me take your coats.’ I took me new pink coat off an handed it te him. He bent down an smiled at me, ‘And you are?’ he said, takin me coat.

  ‘Martha!’ I said.

  ‘What a lovely name,’ he said as he hung me coat on a coat stand beside a big pot holdin walkin sticks wit silver tips an black umbrellas. Then he hung me ma’s up an rushed us inta a big room wit a huge fireplace an a roarin fire. ‘Make yourselves comfortable. Come close to the fire,’ an he smacked a big cushion, fixin another on the back, an waved me ma inta a big leather armchair beside the fire, wit a table an a lamp lightin on it. Me ma hesimitated, smilin at me, an sat herself down on the edge. Then he looked at me, standin not knowin wha te do. ‘Come! Sit over here by the fire, dear,’ an he pulled a big leather stool over beside me ma, right in front of the fire.

  ‘Thanks, Mister,’ I said shyly.

  ‘Call me James,’ he said, givin a big smile showin a mouth of gorgeous white teeth. Then I stared at his face. He only had one eye, the other one was marble. An he had a terrible scar under it. It was all white an pulled together in lumps. He saw me lookin an watched me wit his one eye, lettin me take it in. He was still smilin, so I looked at his good eye, wantin him te know I didn’t think he was ugly.

  ‘Thanks, Mister!’ I whispered.

  He nodded an whispered back, ‘Thank you, Martha.’ Then he rubbed his hands together an said, ‘You must be famished. The food’s in the oven. Dinner won’t be long,’ an he walked out, closin the door behind him.

  ‘Ma! He’s a terribly nice gentleman,’ I whispered, leanin close te her.

  ‘Ah, indeed he is,’ me ma said, smilin an lookin aroun her. ‘It’s true wha they say, strangers will help ye when ye’re down, quicker than yer own family.’ I remembered me ma’s family, an them throwin us out onta the street when I was young. There’s no point in botherin them.

  We heard dishes rattlin outside the door, then it opened an the man rolled in two trays on wheels, an left it, rushin over te bring a small table in front of the fire. ‘Supper by the fire! More cosy!’ he said, an set the table wit knives an forks, an a plate wit a silver cover on it. An he whipped off the cover, an there was lovely meat, an gravy, an carrots, an white lumps tha looked like potatoes. ‘Casserole and dumplings! My favourite,’ he sang. ‘Tuck in!’ he said te me. I looked at him an laughed. ‘Go on! Put some meat on those bones!’

  I started te eat, an it was meltin in me mouth. ‘Did you cook this all by yerself, Mister?’

  ‘James!’ he said, swallowin a big mouthful. ‘Yes! Indeed I did, little lady.’

  ‘Do ye not have a wife te cook fer ye?’

  ‘No!’ he said, concentratin on gettin a piece of meat onta his fork. ‘I’m a widower,’ he said, munchin on his food an lookin at me wit his good eye.

  ‘Do ye have any childre?’ I asked, lookin aroun te see if any appeared.

  He went quiet an looked at the fire. I said nothin, feelin he was a bit hurt. ‘Yes, I did once,’ he said slowly, thinkin. ‘Two ... a boy and a girl, but they died with my wife. A terrible car accident took them away from me,’ an he sat starin at the fire.

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mister,’ I whispered. ‘Ye’re still missin them, aren’t ye?’

  Then he looked at me an said slowly, very quietly, ‘Yes, I do. Very much!’ An he put his knife an fork down, not finishin his dinner, an looked at me ma, eatin her dinner. ‘Is that hot enough for you, my dear?’

  ‘Ah! It’s grand,’ me ma said, smilin an puttin down her knife an fork, feelin shy.

  ‘Did everything go well for you today?’

  ‘Ah, yeah! I have her back,’ an she nodded te me.

  ‘Yes! That’s all that matters,’ he said, jumpin up. ‘Pudding!’ he said te me. I looked at him wonderin did he mean black an white puddin. ‘Chocolate pudding! Always a favourite with children. Hm! Yes?’

  ‘Eh, yeah!’ I said happily.

  ‘Sir will be back with Madam’s order in a jiffy,’ he bowed, rushin off wit the trolley.

  I laughed. ‘Ye’re a funny man!’ I said.

  ‘Oh! You ain’t seen nothing yet!’ he said, soundin like Humphrey Bogart. An he swung the cart out the door, closin it behind him. I wanted te run after him. But he was gone, an I didn’t want him te think I was runnin loose aroun his house. So I watched the door, waitin fer him te come back.

  The room was a bit dead without him. I looked at some of the photographs sittin on the piano. There was one of him in an army uniform wit wings on the shoulders, an he was holdin his hat under his arm an standin very straight. He looked a lot younger, an his face hadn’t a mark, an his two eyes were perfect. An he was lovely lookin altogether, wit black curly hair an gorgeous eyes. Then there was another of him half sittin on a table wit his arms wrapped aroun a blonde woman wit wavy hair, an wearin a skirt an jumper wit a matchin cardigan an a pearl necklace. An another one of an old woman wit a blouse buttoned up te her neck. It was all frilly. An she had a brooch at her throat, an her hair was gathered up in a bun, wit soft waves at the front, an she was holdin a little girl of about three wit blond curls. An a little boy of about five or six was standin beside the granny’s chair. ‘Look, Ma! Tha must be the man’s family, there’s his wife! An I bet ye tha’s his childre. An tha’s their granny,’ I said, gettin a closer look.

  ‘Yeah!’ me ma said, not movin from her chair. ‘He’s a lovely man altogether.’ An I could see me ma was tired an noddin off from the good food an the heat off the fire. I heard him comin, an I rushed back te me stool.

  The door pushed in, an the man rushed in wit the cart again an stopped. ‘Bad news, little lady, no choc pud!’ Me face dropped! ‘But no fear!’ An he waved his finger in the air. ‘I managed to save us some smelly cheese from our resident mouse.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said, gettin worried, cos I don’t think I like the sound of smelly cheese. An I watched his face an kept me eye on the bowls wit the cover on them.

  ‘But some would think me a magician! So ...’ an he waved his hands over the bowls, sayin foreign words, an then whipped the cover off te get a look an shouted, ‘It worked!’ wavin the lid in the air. I looked, an it was hot apple tart an ice cream wit melted chocolate on top. ‘You must be very special,’ he said, shakin his head at me, lookin very serious. ‘My magic only works for special people.’

  I wonder if tha’s true! He’s lookin at me so seriously, an I know he wouldn’t tell lies. But I don’t believe in Santa, or anythin like tha, I never did. Only once fer a little while a few years ago. But tha came te nothin, an I learnt very quickly not te be kiddin meself. No! James is only messin. I dipped me spoon in an it slid down me neck, makin me face shiver, it was so sweet, an landed in me belly before I could stop it. ‘Yum! Delicious!’ James said, smackin his lips an laughin at me makin faces. It was so gorgeous.

  ‘Were you fightin in the war, James?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, lookin at me. ‘Royal Air Force.’

  ‘An wha did ye have te do?’ I asked him.

  ‘Oh!’ he said, lettin out his breath an thinkin. ‘I flew ahead, marking out the spots for the other chaps coming behind me to show them the way and where to drop their bombs. They called us “The Pathfinders”!’

  ‘So you were a fighter pilot?’ I asked him, shocked with surprise.

  ‘Yes!’

  I kept lookin at him, not knowin wha te say. He’s so nice, ye’d never think him a very important man tha’d make funny jokes an talk te us an treat us like we were important, too. ‘I read about youse in the Hotspur an the Victor. I read boys’ comics when I’ve run outa the Bunty an the Judy. An youse fighter pilots were very brave altogether!’ I could hardly get me breath, thinkin about him flyin all them planes.

  He looked at me, shakin his head an smilin. Then he leaned over te me an waved his finger, sayin quietly, ‘You know, you too are not without courage, little girl! There’s plenty of fire,’ an he leaned closer, lookin inta me eyes wit his one eye, ‘in those blue velvet
eyes. You have courage! And one day you will become a wonderful woman!’ Then he jumped back an clasped his hands. ‘Right!’ he said, gatherin up the dishes. ‘Time to dispose of these.’

  I felt me chest risin, an I got a tingle in me belly, an I lifted me shoulders an raised me head, straightenin meself up. I felt very proud in meself altogether. He says I have great courage! A bit like them fighter pilots. Me! I really admire James no end. If I was a boy, I’d want te be exactly like him. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met in me whole life. An ye’d never think te look at him he was a great man. But he certainly is. ‘Ma, do ye want te know somethin?’

  ‘Wha?’ me ma said, her eyes half closin an her face red from the heat of the fire.

  ‘James is better than an aul fillum star, isn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ me ma said, shakin her head in agreement.

  I sat meself in James’s chair, makin meself comfortable. God, we’re so lucky. Then the doorbell rang. Me ma opened her eyes, lookin at me an listenin. The front door opened, an we heard a man’s voice. ‘G’night, Sir. We are looking for a woman and child, Sir, believed to be living at this address. A Miss Kathleen Smith and her daughter Mary.’

  ‘Step in, Officer,’ we heard James say. An another door opened. The front door was shut, an we heard footsteps goin inta another room an the door closin.

  ‘It’s them, Martha!’ me ma said, grabbin me. The room started spinnin, an I felt the blood drainin outa me. Me ma’s eyes were starin in fright, an she was the colour of a ghost. ‘Come on, quick! Let’s get out before they come in,’ she said, lookin aroun.

  ‘No, Ma! No!’ I whispered. ‘Wait, they’ll catch us if we go out there. Do nothin. Wait, let’s see wha happens.’

  ‘Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!’ me ma joined her hands lookin up te heaven. I was shakin an watchin the door.

  The other door opened, an the men’s voices said, ‘Thank you, sorry to bother you.’

  ‘No bother,’ James said, shuttin the door.

  He came in, an we stood starin, holdin our breaths. ‘The police, I’m afraid,’ he said, runnin his hand through his hair. ‘They want to interview you. They believe ... it was reported to them, you absconded with the child without authority.’

  Me ma was rubbin her mouth wit her hand an lookin at me. ‘We have te go. They’ll put her away again. An this time they won’t let me near her. I’ll never get her back.’

  ‘No, no, my dear!’ James said, puttin up his hands. ‘Don’t panic. We can sort this out.’

  ‘No! Thanks fer all yer help. But I’m not takin tha chance.’ An she said, ‘Come on, Martha. We’d better move before they come back.’

  James stood away from the door an said, ‘No, please, there is no need for this! I have contacts. We can have this sorted out.’

  ‘Ah, no!’ me ma said. ‘When the police get involved, then tha’s trouble.’

  ‘No, no!’ James said, puttin his hand out te me ma. ‘These chaps are only doing their job. They must follow through with their enquiries, we’ll ...’

  ‘No!’ me ma said. ‘We’re goin now. Where’s me coat?’ An she grabbed her coat off the stand an then grabbed mine. ‘Come on, Martha,’ an she made fer the door. I was standin beside James an didn’t know wha te do. ‘Come on, I’m tellin ye,’ me ma roared.

  ‘Please, at least stay the night. You are putting yourself and this child in great danger by walking through the streets at this hour. Tomorrow morning, after a good night’s rest, perhaps you will see things more clearly!’

  Me ma hesimitated. I looked at her, wringin me hands. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Once they get their hands on ye, they don’t let go. They might even lock me up.’

  ‘Good gracious! What in heaven’s name would they do that for! You are not a criminal!’

  ‘No!’ me ma said. ‘But tha’s not how they see it! I’m goin. Come on, Martha.’

  I looked at James, an he was very downhearted. My heart was breakin, too. ‘I am sorry, dear, very sorry!’ he said te me in a whisper.

  I turned after me ma, flyin out the gate an stoppin te look up an down the road, then she headed off in the direction of the bus. I hurried after her, lookin back at James. He lifted his hand slowly an gave me a wave, then turned away an went in, closin the door. I felt like me whole world had emptied, an there was no one left but me ... an me ma.

  It was drizzlin an dark, an I pulled me collar of me coat up, thinkin me new coat will be destroyed wit the rain. Only a short while ago I was in heaven. Now we’re worse off than ever before. I had a feelin it was too good te last. Nothin good ever lasts fer long. An now it’s gone. Me ma looked aroun at me trailin behind her an started te run. ‘Hurry up, Martha. The bus is comin.’

  I rushed after her an jumped on the bus. We sat beside each other, not sayin a word. Then I remembered, ‘Ma! Where’s the bag wit our clothes?’

  ‘Ah, them!’ she said, turnin her head away in disgust. ‘They’re gone long ago. Someone robbed me bag when I put it down beside me in a café.’

  ‘So everythin’s gone,’ I muttered, lookin out at the dark streets, drizzlin, not a soul in sight an everythin closed up fer the night. I could see houses flashin past wit big gardens an trees an lights on. The people cosy inside, probably sittin beside warm fires, thinkin of stirrin themselves outa their armchairs an headin off te warm beds wit soft mattresses an big eiderdowns te snuggle under. I looked aroun the bus. The conductor was sittin restin himself wit his eyes closed an his legs stretched out. A coloured man wit a big turban on his head, wearin blue overalls an a big heavy overcoat, sat starin ahead, goin wit the rockin of the bus an holdin his sambidges, wrapped in bread paper, loosely between his hands on his lap. The whites of his eyes was bloodshot, an he looked like he was very tired, but this is somethin he just has te do, an there’s nothin tha can change it. I wanted te ask him was he fed up an tell him I was feelin the same. An maybe he’s feelin lonely, an we could cheer each other up an laugh. An maybe put our heads together an come up wit a plan te make life easier, tha we could be family or somethin. I stared at him, thinkin, no, he wouldn’t know what I was talkin about, an I’m still a child. People just laugh at the likes of me. Things are not workin out the way I thought they would. I’m not able te bring in any money, so we’re lost without tha. I don’t know wha te think or do any more. It’s just beyond me.

  ‘Come on, move,’ me ma said. ‘We’re gettin off,’ an we stepped onta the shiny wet footpath. All the shops were closed, an the rain was gettin heavier now. It was blowin inta our faces, pushin us back, an we had te fight te keep movin. ‘Jaysus Christ! What a fuckin night.’ Me ma was startin te cry. I looked at her face collapsin, an she moaned, ‘No one gives a fuck about ye when ye’re homeless. We might as well be dead fer all anyone cares.’ An she looked aroun her at the empty streets, her face red, an her nose runnin. An she wiped her nose wit the edge of her headscarf.

  ‘Don’t cry, Ma. It’s all right! Look, Ma, we’re together again, nothin’s changed. We need te be careful, tha’s all. An we’ll come up wit somethin. So stop worryin, Ma!’ I held her eyes, an she quietened herself down.

  ‘Yeah! There’s no point in lookin fer anyone te help us. Fuck them!’ she said, lookin aroun her te curse the world. We walked on, rushin through the rain, in a hurry te nowhere.

  We passed a church an stopped. ‘It’s all locked up,’ me ma said, lookin at the dark church. ‘We can’t go in there.’ We moved on, lookin at the dark streets ahead of us. There’s nowhere we can go in an sit down. ‘Jaysus! I curse the day I was ever born,’ me ma started te cry again.

  ‘I’m really fed up, too, Ma! I’m freezin from this rain, an I’m exhausted.’

  I was talkin te meself. Me ma was mutterin away, lost in her own world. ‘We’ll go back,’ she said.

  ‘Go back where, Ma? To the man?’

  ‘No! Tha’s no good. Te the childre. I’ll get me own place in Dublin. An tha bandy aul bastard won’t stop me.’

  Me heart was sinkin. Even the
mention of tha aul fella was makin me want te get sick. ‘No, Ma! Tha’s not a good idea at all. Keep far away from him, Ma. He’s no good.’

  ‘Yes, I know tha!’ me ma shouted. ‘But what else can we do?’ An she waved her arms aroun her. ‘Anyway, I’m not goin back te him. Not on yer life I’m not. No! I want te get the childre, an I’m not goin anywhere near him.’

  ‘But how are ye goin te do tha, Ma?’

  ‘We can watch an wait. An go in when he’s not there. He won’t be expectin us te turn up.’

  ‘OK, Ma,’ I said slowly, thinkin it would be lovely te see the childre again. I left it at tha, too tired te ask any more questions, like how are we goin te get our own place?

  ‘We go tomorrow. I have the ten pounds tha man gave me when I was goin out te get ye today. We’ll buy our tickets, an this time tomorrow night, we should be on the mail boat headin back.’

  We walked on, stoppin at traffic lights, wonderin which way we’d go. Only a dark road up ahead wit houses an trees, nothin up there. Down te the left, a high wall wit fencin over it an a big factory behind it. We turned right, headin down past shops shut up fer the night an a picture house showin a cowboy fillum startin next week. I had a look. Mexican outlaws swaggerin on their big boots wit spurs hangin outa them, holdin a gun in each hand an wearin big hats. ‘Desperados on the Run’, it said! It would be nice te see tha, wonder how much it costs te get in. I looked, an me ma was halfway down the road. I hate tha, now I’d have te run te catch up. She never waits fer me. ‘Wait, Ma!’

  ‘Come on,’ she said, turnin aroun, then moved off again. We crossed the road an turned onta a narra street wit cobblestones an old houses tha looked like they were ready te fall down. People came outa a pub, slammin the door open, an it swung back wit the force. An two aul fellas were shoutin an singin, ‘I Belong te Glasgow’, an then one of them started te tap dance on his bandy legs. When he got te ‘So what’s the matter with Glasgow, cause it’s going roun and roun’, he sang it very fast, an I sidestepped him, keepin me eyes on him at a distance. ‘Come ere, chicken. Do a dance wiv me!’ he said, roarin an wavin his arms out at me. The younger fella eyed me ma, who was standin waitin fer me.