Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes

by Martha Long

  Everyone was listenin anxiously, waitin fer their name te be called. A name was roared down, an everyone jumped. We cocked our ears an looked at each other, the other mammies askin, ‘Who was tha? Listen!’ An the name was called again.

  ‘Brown! Emmet Brown.’ The man came inta the room, an a mammy jumped up, grabbin her son by the arm.

  ‘Here! That’s us!’ she said, rushin Emmet outa the room. He tried te pull back, goin white as a sheet, an the mammy pulled him, sayin, ‘Come on! Come on! We’re here, Sir!’ an she followed the man up the stairs. We all sat back, waitin our turn an feelin sick. No one looked at anyone. Me thoughts were on the waitin. I could hear me heart flyin in me ears, an me stomach was heavy, an I felt I was goin te get sick. I couldn’t stop meself from shakin, an I wanted te get up an walk aroun. But Jackser would go mad, so I sat wit me hands clasped together an stared at the floor. More names were called, an new mammies arrived, creepin in the door an lookin aroun the room, their eyes wide an starin, holdin the hands of young fellas, some looked aroun eight or nine years old. An then they looked behind them at an empty spot on the bench an sat down slowly an just stared inta nothin, waitin, their lips movin, prayin tha everythin would be all right.

  A name was called, an Jackser jumped up, lookin at me. The man came rushin inta the room an called out me name. ‘That’s us, Sir!’ Jackser said, takin off his cap an holdin it in his two hands.

  ‘Follow me,’ the man said, lookin at me. Me heart started hammerin in me chest, an I followed behind Jackser, headin up the stairs an inta a big room.

  The room was crowded wit men, all detectives an policemen in plain clothes waitin fer their cases te come up. There were no women, an me ma stayed downstairs. Jackser went te the back of the room an sat down. The man brought me along the side an told me te stand against the wall where everyone could see me. I stood up straight, wit me hands joined at me back, an looked up at the judge sittin up on a high bench where he was able te look down on everyone. A detective stood up an read out the charges against me. I couldn’t take in wha he was sayin. An the judge nodded at him, an he sat down. Then there was quiet while the judge read papers in front of him. The judge lifted his head an looked down at me. Then a man wit steel-grey hair an a red face wit a big purple nose stood up an said, ‘I’m the solicitor acting for the defendant, your honour.’ An he looked at a bunch a papers in his hand. ‘I’m Mr Murphy, your honour!’

  ‘Ah, yes, Mr Murphy,’ the judge said. I don’t know if tha was his right name, cos they seem te mumble. But maybe now tha I’m not on me own it will be better an he will talk up fer me.

  I waited, lookin up at them, me heart hammerin away. It seems this is goin te go on for ever. I was swayin an tried te get me feet planted, but me legs was like jelly. An I wanted te stand up straight an stop shakin. The judge was sayin somethin an noddin at another man. Then a skinny little man in a black gown came down te me an took me by the arm an brought me up onta the platform. ‘Take this book in your right hand,’ he said te me, ‘and repeat after me.’

  I put me right hand on the Holy Bible an repeated after him, ‘I swear by Almighty God, tha the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, an nothin but the truth. So help me, God.’

  ‘Now,’ said my solicitor, lookin at his papers. ‘Can you tell the court why you took so much butter?’

  ‘Eh?’

  An he looked down at his papers. ‘You are pleading guilty to these charges? Yes! Yes you are. And there’s more than one charge here. Hm! Do you like butter?’

  ‘Eh! Yes!’ I said, lookin at him, thinkin, he’s makin things worse! The judge doesn’t usually bring me up here an ask me a lot a awkward questions! I looked aroun the room at all the men laughin when I said I liked butter. An a man was writin away in his notebook wit a pencil, sittin in the back a the courtroom an liftin his head an writin down everythin tha was bein said.

  I looked again at me solicitor, an he said. ‘Eh! Yes! Hm! Will you tell the court what you do with all the butter and why you take so much?’

  I couldn’t believe it. The gobshite was really walkin me inta it! I hesimitated, thinkin. Then the solicitor interrupted me thoughts, sayin, ‘For example, you have a charge here for stealing twenty pounds of butter.’ An all the aul fellas started sniggerin.

  The judge banged his stick wit the knob on an said, ‘Order, please!’ an glared down at them.

  I stared at the solicitor, knowin he had really got me hanged. He should a kept quiet an not asked me all these questions. I was definitely better off on me own wit just the judge. I heard the quiet in the courtroom while everyone waited te hear what I was doin robbin so much butter. I lifted me shoulders an took in a big breath an said, ‘I took all the butter so tha I could sell it an buy meself sweets wit the money.’

  ‘You mean you earn your own pocket money?’

  I thought about this fer a minute. ‘Well, me ma gives me pocket money sometimes. But I like sweets, an tha’s why I take the butter.’

  ‘Hm! Yes!’ the aul solicitor mumbled, thinkin. ‘That’s a lot of sweets!’ An people laughed again. An then he looked up at the judge, an they nodded te each other.

  ‘Stand against the wall!’ the skinny man roared at me.

  I crept off the stand an stood against the wall again where everyone could see me. I’m lost! Tha solicitor fella didn’t help me. The judge is shakin his head an whisperin wit the solicitor. Then he sat back down, an the judge lifted his head after lookin at his papers again. He looked down at me, leanin over his desk, an smiled at me an said, ‘I think, Martha, you would benefit from an education!’

  I looked at him, his white face round an happy lookin, an he was very gentle. He’s always let me off, an I think he’s a very kind man. But I have a bad feelin. I don’t like the sound of wha he’s sayin an the way he’s lookin at me. It’s like he’s made up his mind te do somethin, an tha stupid aul solicitor has helped him.

  ‘What would you like to be when you grow up, Martha?’ he asked me, smilin.

  I didn’t know wha te say, the only thing I knew was tha I wasn’t goin te be like me ma! So I said, ‘I don’t know, yer honour.’

  ‘Would you like to be a teacher?’

  How could I be tha? I thought. I’ve never been te school! ‘No, yer honour.’

  ‘A Bean Gardai?’

  I thought about tha, after all the times I was arrested. Me, a lady policeman? ‘No, yer honour!’

  ‘A nurse, then?’ the judge asked me, smilin.

  I got a picture of meself goin up an down, shinin me lamp inta the faces of the injured soldiers groanin in pain, an me fixin them up an givin them a peaceful night’s sleep. Just like Florence Nightingale in the comics I read. ‘Yeah! Yes, yer honour. I’d love te be a nurse.’ I shook me head up an down, wishin I could get started straight away.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ the judge said, smilin an shakin his head up an down agreein wit me. ‘I think you should be educated. I am going to send you to a convent where you will be educated. And I must stress, this child is not being sent there as a punishment!’ He looked up at the people. ‘I am not sending her as a punishment. I am sending her there for an education. And I shall make this as part of the order.’ He looked aroun at the people te make sure they understood, then he started writin. ‘She will remain at this industrial school until she reaches the age of sixteen.’

  The room went foggy, an I couldn’t hear or take anythin in. There’s a roarin in me ears, an everyone seems te be movin aroun. The detective who charged me gets up smilin an pullin up his trousers. An the little man wit the black gown rushes over te me an takes me arm, handin me over te another man who brings me down the stairs, an down more stairs, an opens a door an brings me inta a room wit a winda high up an bars on it. ‘Sit down there an wait!’ he says.

  Jackser an me ma appears in the door, an the man goes out an locks the door behind him. ‘Wha’s happenin?’ me ma asks, lookin at me an then Jackser, her eyes wide an starin.

  �
��She’s goin away!’ Jackser says, sittin down in front of me.

  ‘Fer how long?’ me ma asks, shocked.

  ‘Until she’s sixteen!’

  Me ma looks at the wall, thinkin, tryin te take this in.

  Then Jackser looks at me, then looks at the door te make sure no one is listenin, an leans inta me, sayin, ‘Say nothin! Keep yer mouth shut. Don’t tell them anythin! An she comes down wit me if ye do! I won’t be doin time on me own. Tha aul one is up te her neck in it. Just you remember tha. An I’ll be waitin outside them gates fer ye when they release ye at sixteen. An ye know wha will happen te ye. I’d only get two years at the most. An I’d be well out before tha wit time off fer good behaviour. But them kids will be locked up fer years. An prison would kill yer mammy. So remember tha an tell no one nothin. Do ye get tha?’ an he poked me in the chest wit his finger.

  ‘Yeah!’ I said, not carin any more.

  Me ma stared stony-faced at the wall. ‘So tha’s tha, then!’ she kept mutterin.

  ‘Tha’s it!’ Jackser said, wit a sour face. ‘No more fuckin money.’

  Me ma gave me a dirty look. She was ragin, as if I had made the judge send me away.

  ‘No! We’re fucked now,’ Jackser said. ‘Tha just leaves the Charlie fella, an he’s useless. Good fer nothin. No, we can’t depend on him.’

  I sat starin. I’m goin te be locked up! Put away! An me ma won’t even look at me. She’s bothered cos I won’t be bringin her things, or doin everythin she wants me te do fer her. I feel like I’m completely on me own. I’m only good fer doin things fer them. Now I’m no use any more, me ma’s not bothered about me. I felt meself goin cold, an I stared at them. Somehow, Jackser reminded me of a big young fella tha went aroun robbin the little kids, takin all their stuff. An a big young fella has put a stop te his gallop, an now he has te fend fer himself. An he’s feelin lost an disappointed, cos he’s not so brave or smart at all. An he can’t play the big man any more, cos he’s had his little army of one, me, snatched away from him. An now his game is over. An he’s afraid of his life he’s goin te get found out. He’s only a good-fer-nothin waster. An a coward. He’s not a man.

  I turned away from him in disgust an looked at me ma. She was still starin at the floor an wouldn’t even look at me. If she’d only say, ‘I’ll miss ye, Martha. I’m sorry ye’re goin away.’ But no! Her eyes are like two marbles, her mouth is clamped tight, an her face could be made a stone. There’s no mammy in her. Just some young one tha trails aroun after her friend, hopin she’ll get somethin, doin wha she’s told an wantin her friend te mind her cos she’s too simpleminded te look after herself. An she doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else. Well, fuck you, Sally! Ye’re on yer own!

  It’s dawnin on me, I’ve been robbed! I was believin I had a mammy. An Jackser was a man, an they were in charge. But they’re nothin. I’ve been rearin me fuckin self. An now they’re goin home, an I’m goin te be locked up! Well, tha’s it! I’m finished wit them. An when I’m sixteen, I’ll make me own way in the world, an I won’t ask anyone fer anythin. An no one will ever tell me wha te do. I’ll take orders from no one. An it would be a very brave man tha would lay a hand on me, cos he’s goin te fuckin lose it. I’m no Sally!

  I lifted me back up straight, takin a big breath in through me nose, an folded me arms, gettin ready fer whatever was goin te happen te me. Jackser stirred, lookin at the door, an said, ‘We’d better get movin. We left tha Charlie fella watchin the kids. Come on, Sally!’ an he nodded his head at her an stood up. ‘Remember what I said now. Give them no information,’ he whispered over at me.

  ‘Ye needn’t worry yerself, I’ll tell them nothin,’ I said, givin him a dirty look.

  ‘Ye better not,’ he said, cockin his eyebrow, tryin te make me afraid.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ I said, lookin away from him, not bothered, only carin he’d take it out on me ma an the poor childre if he couldn’t get his hands on me.

  Jackser rattled the doorknob an banged on the door. I heard keys rattlin, an the door opened. ‘We’ll be ready fer ye any minute now,’ a man said, puttin his head in the door.

  Jackser turned te me, ‘Well, goodbye now. It’s not long fer ye te wait.’ An he looked out, sayin, ‘Come on, they’re bringin up the other kids now. The Black Maria is here te take ye’s.’ I could hear shoutin an cryin.

  ‘Come on!’ the man said, noddin at me.

  Me heart started te pound again, an I followed the crowd a people up the stairs out the door an onta the path. The Black Maria van was pullin up, an people were millin aroun.

  ‘I’ll be off so,’ Jackser said, wavin at me.

  An me ma stopped te look, ‘Goodbye, Martha!’ she said, tryin te smile.

  ‘Goodbye, Ma!’ I said, tryin te get a good look inta her face, wantin te remember wha she looked like, cos I won’t be seein her again.

  A detective pushed me forward, an I tried te look back. But all I could see was the back of me ma wit her head down walkin te catch up wit Jackser. I turned aroun, an we stopped while the detective rushed te help two men tryin te wrestle wit an old woman in a black shawl, screamin an tryin te hold onta a little young fella who was holdin on te her fer dear life. He had his head buried in her stomach an his arms wrapped aroun her. An she was tryin te hide him in her shawl. ‘Please! Please, Sir! Don’t take him away from me. He’s only eight years old. I promise as God is in his Heaven I’ll send him te school. He won’t ever miss school again. I’ll make sure a tha.’

  The detective tried to loosen the woman’s grip, an another policeman tried te pull the child, but they wouldn’t let go. ‘Granny! Don’t let them take me,’ he screamed as the third man jumped in an wrenched the child’s arm, sayin, ‘You have to let go!’

  The granny lost her grip on the child, an he was hoisted off the ground, kickin an wavin his arms madly, tryin te get a hold of his granny. ‘Jesus! Jesus! No! I’m beggin youse, please give him one more chance. He’s only a babby.’

  ‘Well! You should have sent him to school,’ an aul fella wit a red face said, holdin her back.

  ‘Jimmy!’ she screamed, wipin her snots wit the corner of her shawl as she watched him bein hauled in the Black Maria.

  ‘Come on! Up ye’s get,’ a detective roared, pushin us from behind.

  A young fella of about ten or eleven stumbled in front of me, tryin te look back at his mammy screamin, ‘Emmet! Emmet! I’ll get the money, an I’ll come down te see ye!’

  ‘Ma! I want me ma!’ roared Emmet.

  ‘Get up! Come on! Keep movin,’ a detective roared at him, pushin him inta the van.

  Mammies were standin on the footpath, screamin an wavin. An a young fella of about twelve tried te escape. He was behind me, an he suddenly pushed the detective, knockin him off balance, an jumped screamin, ‘Let me go! Ma! I won’t rob any more.’

  The red-faced man caught him an grabbed him by the neck an the leg. His mammy rushed at the red-faced man, screamin, ‘Take yer hands offa my son or I swear te God I’ll be hanged fer ye!’

  He pushed her back an grabbed hold a the doors, an looked aroun him, shoutin, ‘Is that the lot?’

  ‘Yeah!’ shouted the policeman. ‘I’ve done the head count. We have seven! That’s the lot!’

  ‘Thanks, Mick.’ An the doors was slammed shut. The engine started up, an the noise of the mammies was quieter now.

  ‘They’re goin! Oh, Jesus Christ, pray fer them,’ I heard a woman cryin.

  Young fellas were cryin in the van, an the little fella sittin across from me was sobbin his heart out. The policeman yawned an stretched himself out an asked the detective, ‘Where are we headin first?’

  The other fella looked at him, about te answer, an then suddenly shouted, ‘Shut up! Stop that roarin!’ An glared aroun at everyone. The cryin slowed down, an the childre sat givin big sobs, their heads an chests jerkin up an down wit the sobs comin out, an they were tryin te get a breath an quieten themselves. But it was hard, cos everyone was very afraid. ‘Well, we
have three for Dublin, all in different directions, of course. Then there’s a run to Daingean. Drop off two of them there. Then we have a long run ahead of us te Letterfrack.’

  ‘Jaysus! It will be next week before I see a bed,’ the policeman complained. Then he pulled out a packet a cigarettes an offered the packet te the detective, who helped himself te one, an they lit up an sat back te enjoy their smoke.

  I crossed me arms an lowered me head, closin me eyes. An I wondered how I was goin te get through the next four an a half years until I was sixteen.

  Afterword

  So there you have it. Martha’s story in her own words. The voice of that child in my head no longer haunts me; I carry her within me with great pride. I’ve set her free. I salute her courage and marvel at her determination to survive. She made me laugh. She made me cry. She made me the adult I’ve become.