Ma, I've Got Meself Locked Up in the Mad House

by Martha Long

  ‘Come over, Sally, and see Harry!’

  But the ma turned her head away in fear. ‘No! No! I won’t!’ she muttered, shaking her head in panic and looking over towards the coffin. She couldn’t see Harry, only the back of the coffin.

  I went over to her and put my arm around her. ‘Come on. Don’t be afraid, Ma. It’s Harry. If you don’t say goodbye to him now, you will never get another chance,’ I said, moving her over towards him.

  ‘No!’ She tried to pull away.

  ‘Ma, if you don’t see him, you will spend the rest of your life waiting for him to come home,’ I said, staring into her face.

  She looked unsure, so I eased her over, closer. Her eyes landed on her son, and she stared. ‘Come over, Ma.’ I pulled her closer. She was trying to resist me.

  ‘Put your hands on him, Ma,’ I whispered.

  ‘He’s gone! Harry!’ she said, rubbing her hands in prayer and leaning down to look into his face.

  ‘I warned ye! I kept tellin ye not te be takin tha drink!’ and she put her hand on his forehead, then snatched it back, rubbing her hand like it had been burned. Then she hesitated, staring at him, looking like she wanted to wake him up.

  I watched as she leaned in, then put her hand on his forehead again, rubbing it. ‘Oh! Harry! Harry! Why wouldn’t ye listen te me? Why did ye not listen te me, son?’ she implored, leaning down and looking into his face. Then she lifted her head, looking around as if she was searching for someone.

  She let her eyes fly, landing them on each of us in turn, looking as if she was thinking one of us could talk sense to Harry and bring him back. Then everything would be all right.

  ‘Ma, it’s all right,’ I said, rushing to take her in my arms. ‘Shush! Take it easy.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she kept muttering, shaking her head, sounding like she was in terrible torment.

  ‘Come on, Ma,’ I whispered. ‘Let’s go down here.’

  I led her towards the back of the room, well away from the coffin. ‘Here we are. Sit down here and rest yourself, Ma,’ I said, putting her sitting down on the bench lined up against the wall.

  ‘He wouldn’t listen te me!’ she said, to no one in particular. I held me arms around her, then caught Nora’s eye. She was sitting just inside the door, terrified of making a move. I could see her glance up to the coffin, wanting to get up there, looking like she wanted to make her peace with her husband. No one took any notice of her.

  Teddy came over and whispered to me, ‘Is the ma all righ? Are ye all righ, Ma?’ he said, sitting down beside her and wrapping his arm around her.

  I pulled back and went to stand up, saying, ‘Teddy, mind the ma. I want to go over to Nora.’

  He stared over at Nora, seeing she was on her own. ‘Yeah, you mind her. I’ll look after me ma,’ he said, nodding and smiling at me.

  ‘Grand!’ I whispered, making me way over to where she was sitting.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, bending down and taking her arm, then helping her to her feet. ‘Come over to Harry,’ I whispered. ‘It’s quiet now, everyone is moving away,’ I said, seeing them standing around the walls, lost in their own thoughts.

  She looked around at everyone, looking like a frightened little deer. Then looked at me.

  ‘Come on, Nora. You’ll be all right. Take as much time as you want with Harry. There’s no rush. Now’s your time to say all you want to say to him. I pray, Nora, he’ll give you peace,’ I whispered into her ear, leading her over to the coffin.

  Young Sally moved back, and Nora took her place, looking down into Harry’s face. I moved away, taking young Sally with me. ‘Come over to the ma, Sally. Look, she’s taking it very badly!’

  Dinah heard me as well and looked down to where the ma was sitting crying her heart out. We walked down to her, and the ma looked up at us, asking, ‘What am I going to do now without Harry? How can he be gone just like tha? It doesn’t make any sense te me!’ she cried, looking at us all one by one.

  ‘Come on, Ma. Let’s get you outside,’ I said, looking at the girls, seeing they were as confused as the ma. ‘Bring her outside,’ I said to them, helping the ma to her feet and nodding to the girls.

  Jackser came up behind me, saying, ‘They’re goin te close the coffin now. Tha’s the last time we’ll ever see him, Martha,’ he said, looking back. He had his right hand in a fist and the other one clamped over it, holding it tight to his chest as if in prayer. I looked back at the men preparing to put the lid on the coffin. Nora was standing alone. She stood back to let them seal up Harry for ever. But her face was locked on Harry, and she inched forward, wanting to get that last glimpse of him. I saw her hand fly up to her face as the men lowered the lid, and she shook her head slowly from side to side, mouthing, ‘No! No!’ Tears started to fall down her cheeks, and still she didn’t make a sound. Her heart was breaking.

  I went quickly up to her and took her wet face on my shoulder, holding her head tightly. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmured, rocking her as she heaved big silent screams. I felt her chest convulse and her body shake. But no sound came out. It was too deep down inside her. The terrible fear and pain and loss kept it locked up tight. But it would come. The poor child was still in shock.

  ‘Come on, darling.’ I started to walk her to the car, thinking she’s never had it easy. The poor kid lost her mother when she was only a little girl.

  Nora stopped, pulling herself away from me. ‘Martha! Listen, wait,’ she said.

  ‘What? What is it, Nora?’

  Her lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. I moved closer, looking into her face. She couldn’t get out what she was trying to say.

  ‘Come over here quickly,’ I said, pulling her over to the corner. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Harry,’ she whispered, letting her eyes stare into mine. Then she flicked them back to the coffin. We stared as the men made their way down towards us, then glided past as they carried him on the bier. I watched the coffin go slowly out the door and turned to Nora.

  ‘He never knew he had a son! Last week I gave birth te a little baby boy, an he never even knew I was carryin his child!’

  I was stunned, and couldn’t open me mouth.

  ‘He would have been delighted, Martha. He wanted a boy after havin two girls. But I didn’t even know meself I was pregnant. Not until long after I left him. By then it was too late. I didn’t want him te find me, so I kept it quiet. Martha, the baby is the image of Harry, the spitting image of his father,’ she muttered, staring at me with the life gone out of her eyes. ‘He has the same colour hair! I called him Harry, after his daddy. He never even knew!’ she whispered, shaking her head, staring at the coffin being lifted into the funeral car.

  ‘It’s a miracle, Nora. You and Harry made that little baby! Now you will have a reminder, every day of your life, in little Harry. His dad was a good man, and little Harry will become the man one day his dad wanted to be. He will grow up to be confident, not afraid to take his place in life. Because he has you as his mother, Nora. I know you will move heaven and earth to make him happy, and his sisters. You can give them all the love Harry never got from his mother.

  ‘Just do that much, Nora! As long as they know they can depend on you, and you’ll never let them down, nothing else matters. Do you believe me?’ I asked her, searching her eyes, wanting to see a little hope, something that will give her the courage to move on.

  ‘Harry loved you, Nora, and you loved him, that’s why you married and had your children. The baby was meant to be born. Harry was not meant to know, because Harry’s time was up. None of this was anything to do with you. This was all coming long before you were born, Nora. Be happy you have the chance to carry on. Live life, enjoy the children. Poor Harry was never meant to get any older than twenty-eight years old. Don’t have any regrets. You gave Harry love. That was a great gift. Some people never even get that! Now, come on! Wipe your snots and let’s get moving. I’m gasping for a smoke!’

  I took her hand,
pulling her behind me out to the car. They were all sitting very quietly, with nobody saying a word. Everyone was lost in their own world of pain, just staring into space.

  ‘Are you ready to go, ma’am?’ the driver asked her, putting his hat back on his head.

  Nora nodded as he opened the door. She gave me a little wave, then a slow sad smile, just before the door was slammed shut. The driver then walked around to the other side and climbed in, starting up the engine. He was getting himself ready to follow behind the funeral car. That car was now taking Harry to rest in the church overnight. It is close to his beloved flats. The very same flats that took his life away.

  15

  * * *

  The funeral car carrying Harry pulled up outside the church, and the car carrying the family stopped a few feet back. I pulled up behind it, wanting another cigarette, but it was too late. Everyone was climbing out of the car, and people were lining up outside the church, waiting for Harry. I opened the door and climbed out just in time to see the priest arrive at the entrance from inside the church. He was wearing a purple vestment over his black cassock, with a purple stole around his neck. He stood waiting to receive Harry, holding holy vessels in each hand, ready to bless the coffin. Two little altar boys stood, one on each side of him.

  The men started to place the coffin on the bier, ready to wheel it into the church, but Jackser leapt forward, saying, ‘We don’t want tha! We’ll carry him in ourself.’

  The undertakers hesitated, because most Dublin people didn’t bother to carry the coffin any more. Only real Dubliners still do that. So Jackser pushed them out of the way and started to lift the coffin himself, telling Teddy and Gerry to help, and Charlie, who suddenly appeared out of the crowd and grabbed one end of the coffin.

  Jackser then went down on one knee and said quietly, but letting his voice carry, ‘Right! Get yer end up! Now! Put yer shoulders underneath!’ and the boys went down on one knee. ‘Ready?’ Jackser shouted again. ‘Lift!’ And they all stood up together, straightening themselves up. They paused, raising their shoulders, then dropped their arms. The coffin settled on their shoulders, and they began the slow march into the church, putting their right leg forward, keeping in step, following behind the undertakers taking in the bier.

  The church bell tolled, and Nora marched slowly behind the coffin, and the rest of us followed. The procession stopped at the altar rail, and the coffin was rested on the bier. Then the priest indicated to us to take our place, and we all filed into the bench at the top of the church, next to the coffin.

  The priest went up onto the altar and started to chant the prayers for the dead. The people answered, in a slow quiet monotone, and I closed my eyes, covering my face with my hands. I suddenly felt weary, tired to my bones, aching all over. I didn’t answer the prayers and started to lean back on the bench, quickly leaning forward again. Years of training in the convent wouldn’t let me do that. The murmuring of the priest chanting the prayers brought back a familiar and old ritual. I let the memory wash over me.

  I am sitting in the little convent chapel with the lights dimmed, gazing at the red glow from the Sacred Heart lamp that burns perpetually. I listen as the nuns answer the prayers in a sweet melodious cadence, being led by the Reverend Mother. The children are yawning. We are all tired as the night draws in and shout out the nightly ritual on a puff of breath, hoping to hurry along the last prayers so we can get to snuggle up in our warm beds.

  I listen te the wind howlin outside an the trees screamin in rage on this dark wintry night. We sprawl in the benches, scratchin our heads under the blue berets. We all titter when Dilly Nugent turns aroun an mutters te Sister Eleanor, ‘I have creepy crawlies in me head, Sister!’

  ‘You will be creeping up to bed in a minute if you don’t stop that nonsense!’ Sister Eleanor growls, wavin her finger an tightenin her lips, then flickin her eyes back up te the altar again.

  We lean back on the bench an get a poke in the back from Sister Eleanor, as she snarls, ‘Sit up! Sit up straight.’

  She is a very gentle nun, but now because all the other nuns are watchin from their prie-dieus at the back a the chapel – especially the Reverend Mother – Sister Eleanor knows they will be gossipin, sayin her group is terrible, an the Reverend Mother will be after the lot of us, her included!

  The prayers are over. We give a sigh of relief an stand up, waitin our turn te make a quick genuflection – it’s more a nod at the Blessed Sacrament – an then make a quick dive for the door. We are whipped back rapidly by the scruff a the neck. Sister Eleanor has eyes in the back a her head an moves wit lightnin speed. We are pushed down on our knees wit whispered promises of terrible punishments. ‘You will get no marmalade for your breakfast in the morning!’ Sister Eleanor spits through gritted teeth.

  I hate marmalade! I’m thinkin, lookin down at the shiny polished floorboards as Sister Eleanor holds me down by the neck, makin me genuflect at the altar. Then we’re out the door an make a stampede along the convent passage. The floor shakes as we all try te escape at the same time.

  There are a hundred of us childre in the convent. Te keep order, we are supposed te walk in single file wit our heads bowed like the nuns. There’s whispered screams of ‘Quiet!’ comin from behind me.

  ‘Sweet Jesus! Who is making that noise?’ roars from the back of Sister Eleanor’s throat. She’s exhausted, wit a roarin-red face, an she’s grindin her teeth. ‘The Reverend Mother is listening,’ she gasps. ‘All the nuns are listening!’ Then she croaks out the threats: ‘The whole house will be punished! You are not staying up to watch The Virginian.’

  It’s the only programme we are allowed te watch, once a week. I’m not bothered. I hate The Virginian!

  A howl of screams starts from the big ones at the end a the passage. Sister Eleanor flies down the convent passage, rosary beads on her leather belt clankin, the massive bunch a keys rattlin. She locks up everythin wit them keys! Every door, every press, especially the sweet press. Oh! An the bread press, because we broke inta tha for a midnight feast. The big ones eat all the bread at teatime, so we are left still starvin.

  Her long black habit is held up wit both hands, an the long black veil is flappin out behind her. We get a glimpse of a black-stockinged ankle – ‘Oooh! Did ye see tha?’ – as she flies past us in a blur. She’s hell bent on her mission te catch the culprits.

  ‘Severe repercussions will follow,’ she screams, wavin her finger at us. We laugh at the big words. ‘You are sent out of the group! The whole lot of you!’

  ‘Ye can’t do tha, Sister Eleanor! There won’t be room for the lot a us on the passage!’ I roar after her.

  ‘Don’t bother asking me for anything!’ she shouts, wavin her finger at everyone, includin the wall. She’s losin the run of herself, goin mad!

  ‘Yeah! We know,’ everyone mutters. ‘You won’t speak te us, an we’ll have te eat our meals on the refectory passage! Ah, yak! Yakety yak! Who cares?’ an Dilly Nugent stuck out her tongue an blew raspberries, spittin all over me!

  ‘Fuck you!’ I roared.

  Sister Eleanor whirled aroun, screamin, ‘Who said that?’

  ‘She did, Sister Eleanor!’ They all pointed their finger at me, dyin te get me inta trouble.

  ‘I did not!’ I roared. Sister Eleanor came flyin back an gave me an unmerciful slap on the gob. They roared laughin, an we were still on the chapel passage. I got such a shock an went inta an awful rage. I threw me head back, takin in an almighty breath, gettin ready te scream me lungs out.

  The others suddenly went quiet, an I looked aroun, wonderin why, still holdin me breath, wit me face turnin red as a beetroot. The chapel door opened behind us, an the Reverend Mother stood lookin down at us, watchin without sayin a word.

  Sister Eleanor’s eyes bulged an her face turned bright purple. Then she stood still an pointed her arm at the lot of us te move fast, very fast, away from the convent passage. Then she gave me a slap on the back te hurry me along, knockin the wind outa me
. ‘Everyone is going to bed early!’ she snorted, flappin out her arms again. I could feel her breath on the back a me neck an jumped te the side, lettin her miss me an give Dilly Nugent a slap across the ear.

  ‘What was that for?’ Dilly roared, rubbin her ear like mad.

  The Reverend Mother called, ‘Sister Eleanor. Sister! May I have a word with you, please!’

  We looked back, seein Sister Eleanor turn white at the sight a the Reverend Mother. She was takin her hands out from under her alb an wrigglin her two fingers at Sister Eleanor, an starin daggers down at us from her milk-bottle eyeglasses.

  We watched as Sister Eleanor rushed off down the passage te speak te the Reverend Mother an get a tongue lashin. I took off, flyin like the hammers a hell, an the others all started ‘Oohhing!’ an ‘Gawding!’, sayin, ‘We’re in big trouble now!’

  I hid in the tilet just offa the passage an waited. Sure enough, Sister Eleanor came flyin back, leavin the door swingin out behind her, an it shut wit an almighty bang. She grabbed the first young one she got her hands on. ‘Up to bed!’

  ‘Whadidido?’

  ‘Where are the rest of them?’

  I could hear her rosary beads rattlin under her leather belt as she flew down the stairs. I was shakin, laughin an shiverin at the same time, knowin I was in fer big trouble.

  ‘Where is that brazen madam? MARTHA LONG! Did any one of you see her?’

  ‘No, Sister, she’s probably hidin!’ the licks said.

  ‘I am not going to tolerate this outrageous behaviour,’ I could hear her mutterin as she came back up the stairs. ‘Wait until I get that one!’ she muttered under her breath as she passed within inches a me, headin herself off up te the dormitory te find me.

  ‘There will be no more sweets for a month! You won’t be allowed out with your godparents on the orphans’ outing!’ she droned, listin all the punishments off one by one on her fingers as we lay in bed without gettin any tea.