by Martha Long
They would bung me off to their Magdalen home like they did to some of the others. No way. I’d heard the stories from some of the other girls.
One of them was married now. She’d managed to escape out in one of the laundry baskets and slept rough on the streets of Dublin until she got the money to go to England. I shivered with the fear running through me at the thought of being locked up. I hurried on, wrapping the long, black maxi coat around me I bought myself for Christmas. I paid a shilling a week out of my wages, and by Christmas I was in great style. I had a long yellow scarf to go with the coat, and wrapped it several times around my neck, glad of it now.
I hurried on, down through alleyways that hadn’t changed for hundreds of years, the smell of piss and decay turning my stomach, and came out onto Grafton Street. People were very well dressed here. The ones with all the money came here to spend it in Brown Thomas and Switzer’s. I looked at their well-fed hatchet faces. It’s funny how the rich are always very plain, while the poor always seem to be better looking!
I turned right, passing Bewley’s, and the smell of the coffee was nice. I’d love to go in there and buy myself one. I haven’t had time to get meself a bit of breakfast yet. But I have to start watching the pennies now. I hurried on, joining the people rushing to get somewhere. Everyone seemed to have things to do, places to go.
I stopped at the entrance to Stephen’s Green, looking up at the arch to the unknown soldier. There’s no point in wandering in there. It’s too cold. I turned away, heading in the direction of home, picturing the empty cold room – it was more like a prison at the moment. I sat on the bed for hours, staring into nothing, worrying. I won’t be able to put on the little hot-air heater. It eats the shillings.
I kept wandering in that direction, thinking if I need to buy a half-pint of milk. Do I have bread? I’m not sure if I want to eat anything, it’s a terrible waste of money if I just leave it lying. I could feel the fear creep into my belly again. Jesus! What will I do now? What will happen to me? There was no one I could tell. I felt very alone in the world.
I wandered down through Thomas Street, feeling lost. Thinking, there’s people here I should know. I looked at the weather-beaten faces of the dealers as they stamped their feet in their fur-lined boots, walking up and down to keep out the cold. Their eyes swung up and down the street looking for customers for their vegetables and fruit. I kept my head down, not wanting to make conversation.
I crossed the road, heading into St John’s church to say a prayer, hoping to lift this terrible feeling of having the world on my shoulders, and that everything would turn out right. This was a disgrace. I had gotten myself into trouble, and I would have to pay the penalty.
They fired me from my job when I was six months pregnant. The priest had been right. I was now showing. I hurried down the hill, my stomach heaving. I stopped to bring up the tea and bread I’d just eaten, then pushed on. My heart was hammering away in my chest. Jesus! I’m going to be late for work.
I hurried down the quays, passing the homeless shelter for men. I suddenly stopped as the door opened and a down-and-out grey-faced man walked into me. We muttered to each other, neither of us bothering to make eye contact. He kept his eyes down, locked in his own world, wondering where he was going to go to get in out of the cold and get a bit of heat, and maybe something to drink to get him through another day until the night came and he could go back to the hostel and sleep another night to face another day until he finished his hell on earth.
I was locked in my own world of worry and loneliness and waiting – for what? The baby to be born, this to be over! I couldn’t see that far ahead. This hell will go on for ever. It has been a long time since I laughed and felt young and carefree. The worry of meeting someone and the nuns finding out, and the thought I had done the exact thing as my mother, made me feel I have ruined my chances of ever having a better life.
I arrived into the office and Alec was waiting for me. ‘You’re late.’
I took off my coat, and he stared at my stomach.
‘Get me a number,’ he barked as he stormed out the door. ‘Knutsberg in Holland!’
‘Right away! OK, Alec.’ I reached for the phonebook and the switchboard rang. ‘Good morning, Hammond and Mooney!’
‘Yeah, I’m ringing about the job for a receptionist. Is it gone?’
I was stunned. ‘What job? There’s no job for a rece . . . Where did you see the job advertised?’
‘It’s in this morning’s paper!’
‘No, sorry! The job is gone.’
I hung up and rushed down to Mr Hammond. Alec the son was sitting at his desk.
‘Yes?’ He lifted his round fat face and shrugged his shoulders, trying to make himself look bigger. He was a fat, little aul fella, who was now taking over from the daddy. Even though he wasn’t the eldest, he made himself look very busy, and the sons were always throwing shapes around each other. But he made sure to come in every day, and more and more the others were missing.
I looked around. No sign of Neddy. ‘Alec! There’s a girl on the phone asking about the job for receptionist!’
‘Right! Put her through,’ he snapped, reaching for the phone.
‘But, Alec! There’s no job for a receptionist. I’m . . . that’s my job!’
‘Not any more! You’re fired!’
‘How? What do you mean? Why?’
‘You were late! And this!’ He pointed to my stomach.
‘I can still work, Alec,’ I said half-heartedly.
‘You’re fired. Now, put any calls through to me that come in about the job. Go and see Mrs Kelly. Tell her to fix up your wages and collect your cards. You can stay on until Friday. That’s your last day.’
I stared at him, not able to take it in. He dropped his head and went back to his work, and I was forgotten.
There’s no point in arguing with him. I turned away, heading back down the passage in terrible shock. Then I stopped outside Mrs Kelly’s door. She was the bookkeeper. I wandered in and stood in front of her desk. She was an elderly woman, and I never spoke to her much. She was too serious to make jokes with Becky and me, back in the old days before I got myself into trouble.
‘Mrs Kelly,’ I whispered, staring at her. ‘Alec says I’m to collect my cards. I’m fired.’
She shook her head and looked down at my stomach, pointing and saying in a whisper, ‘When are you expecting?’
‘In three months, Mrs Kelly.’
‘I’m so sorry! What will you do?’
‘I don’t know. I’m supposed to be going down to a home for unmarried mothers, but I don’t want to go.’ I knew it was foolish to think I could avoid it, but I kept hoping something might change.
‘Listen, Martha! I will make up your wages now. It will take a little time, but if you come back to me after dinnertime, I will have your cards ready, and you can go home today. Does your family know?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t have a family.’
‘Who brought you up?’
‘I lived in a convent. But I can’t let them know. They will put me away.’
She shook her head, agreeing with me. ‘What about the home?’
‘Yeah, I can go there and leave when the baby is adopted.’
‘That’s your best bet. I suggest you take the time off now and go and see them. Make arrangements to leave as soon as possible,’ she whispered, looking into my eyes.
We stared at each other. I could see the gentleness and the kindness she had for me.
‘What about Alec?’
‘Never mind that eegit! I will sort him out. You get your coat on and get yourself sorted out as soon as you can. Go on! I will be thinking about you, and I’ll light a candle for you. You’ll be all right!’
I gave her a little smile, feeling a sense of purpose.
43
* * *
The old single-decker bus rumbled to a stop outside the convent. I stepped down, dragging the big suitcase and landing it on the ground.
The bus heaved off, leaving me standing in the middle of the country. It’s miles from anywhere, I thought, looking around me at the country road. Nothing but fields and trees and hedges. I could get the country smells. I looked up at the entrance gates and the sign over the gate saying ‘St Mary’s Home’. I picked up the case and headed in the gate.
The suitcase was heavy enough, even though I hadn’t too much in it. Just the few things I’d bought myself since I left the convent, and they weren’t much good to me now. Nothing would fit me properly. I had to squeeze into them. It must be around the four o’clock mark. It had been a long aul haul down from Dublin. I got the half past nine train down, then had to wait for a bus in the city.
I walked up the dark avenue. It was shaded by trees. The path narrowed as I turned a bend, with the trees leaning over, trying to take up as much room as they could from the path. Jesus! What am I doing? I can always turn back or leave whenever I want. They can’t keep me here. I came in voluntarily. I turned another bend, and the entrance stared straight down at me.
I crunched my way across the pebbles laid out in front of the entrance to make a wide path outside the door and stopped to ring the doorbell in the wall. My heart fluttered looking at the big, wide, brown entrance doors leading into a porch. I took in a deep breath and waited.
‘Good evening!’ A tall, red-faced nun in a long black habit down to her toes smiled at me. Her eyes flicked down to my suitcase and then at my belly. ‘Come in! Are you Martha?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ I said, lifting up my suitcase and feeling my heart sink at the mention of my name and being expected. It feels like I may be handing over control of myself to these nuns again. I stopped, hesitating about stepping through the doors she held open.
‘Come along! You are welcome,’ she said, reading my mind. Nuns are very cute! They know how to wrap you around their little finger. Then they can be the devil from hell and exercise iron control over you if it suits them and if they can get the power.
Jesus! Jesus! Will I get out of this place again? I wanted to turn and run. But all the time she was pushing me through doors, then whipped up my suitcase as soon as we reached a long dark passage and she stopped outside a door. ‘I’ll take this.’
Then we were in an office with a big old desk and bookshelves around and a filing cabinet.
‘Take a seat, you must be tired!’
I nodded, saying nothing.
‘Now,’ she said, whipping out a file. ‘I just need some details from you.’
She walked over to a big leather desk chair and sat herself down, taking up a pen, and said, ‘Now! I need your parents’ names and address.’
I stared at her, and she leaned forward, waiting for the information.
‘Why?’
‘Oh, we need to know about your family history for lots of reasons,’ she smiled.
‘Yes, but what exactly do you want to know for?’
‘Well, for a start, when you have the baby adopted, we try to place the child with a family from a similar background. Even the colour of your eyes and hair – all these things matter to help the adoptive parents. If the child looks like them, it helps them to pass it off as their own. Also, as you come from Dublin, the child would be adopted by people from the country. We can’t take any chances of the mother ever seeing her child. Do you understand now?’
‘Yes.’ But it all went over my head. I couldn’t really get my mind to work. I can’t tell her about Sally. She doesn’t exist any more, and I can’t tell her about the convent!
‘What is your family address?’
‘Look! I am not going to give you that. Nobody knows anything about me. That’s the whole point of me being here. If you insist, I’m walking out that door,’ I said, white-faced, stonily determined she was not getting anything out of me.
‘Well! If you insist,’ she said, lowering her pen and looking at her empty folder.
‘I do!’
‘Yes! Very well then. Now! You are free to leave any time you wish,’ she said slowly, her eyes narrowing, taking me in. But looking like I would have a fight on my hands if I tried that.
I stared back just as hard. ‘I will leave, Sister! If this place does not suit me,’ I said quietly but firmly.
She nodded. ‘Now! You may walk out the gates any time you wish, but we advise you do not for good reason. The girls know only too well what happens with the townspeople. They will make it very uncomfortable for you. They know, obviously, you are staying here, and they gossip, pointing and laughing at the girls, and some may even make hurtful remarks.’
‘What town?’
‘Well, you must have come through it on your way here by bus?’
‘But that’s a long way off, Sister.’
‘No! Not in the country,’ she said. ‘So it would be ill advised to venture up there.’
I listened, having no intention of visiting the culchies.
‘Come along now and I will show you to your sleeping quarters.’
She stood up and picked up my case. ‘I will put this away in the storeroom. You won’t be needing it.’
I stared at my suitcase walking out the door with the nun and felt I was losing my chance of escape. My whole life was in that case, and I had no intention of losing it.
‘Couldn’t I keep it with me, Sister?’
‘No! Why would you do that? Sure, you wouldn’t have anything in it that would be useful to you in your present condition.’
I hesitated.
‘Anyway, it would only be in the way. We can’t have luggage strewn around the place. When you are leaving, you can ask for it back. Incidentally! Do you have money with you? I must put it away for you to keep it safe.’ She stared at me, waiting. ‘It could be stolen, you know!’
‘OK,’ I said reluctantly, taking the purse out of my coat pocket. I had kept my hand on it all the way down from Dublin in case anything happened to it. I counted it out. Seven pounds and four shillings and ninepence. That’s what I had left from my two weeks’ wages, and the two pounds Mrs Kelly slipped into my wage packet out of her own money. She was a very good woman. It didn’t seem like only yesterday I was standing in her office talking to her. Now look where I am.
I handed over the money, feeling I was giving up my last chance of freedom. She counted it, putting it into an envelope with my name on it, and put it in a safe. Then she locked it and said, ‘Follow me and we’ll get you something to wear.’
I looked around the dormitory. It was tiny. Six beds were nearly head to head in an attic room. I was behind the door. The annexe window was up in the roof, and it only let in a bit of light. I put on the long grey shift she gave me; it looked like a tent with brown stripes. I looked down at my narrow bed with the hairy black blankets and white sheets, and lay down, stretching myself the length of the bed. I was suddenly exhausted and was glad to be off my feet. At least I have plenty of room in the frock. Now I don’t have to squeeze myself into my clothes any more – that sure is one good thing.
I lay stretched out and suddenly I felt the baby move. I put my hand on my stomach and felt a big lump squeeze out through my skin. I looked down, feeling it. It was the baby’s foot or something. It’s having a stretch for itself too.
I held on to the foot, and suddenly I wasn’t alone any more! It’s a baby! My baby! I laughed. ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ I asked quietly. It started dancing up a tango and going mad, delighted with not being squashed any more. ‘My baby,’ I crooned to it, rubbing where I could feel it bouncing around.
‘Tea time!’ A head poked its way around the door, waking me up.
I sat up, wondering where I was for a minute. The home! I looked around as the door slammed shut, getting a quick look at a very pregnant girl. Then I made my way down to the dining room by following the herd of girls all making their way to the sound of cutlery and cups being put out. When I arrived in the door, there must have been over sixty girls here sitting at tables for six. I made my way over to a free chair and sat down. I im
mediately spotted the girl I saw outside the door going in to see the priest a while ago, back in Dublin. She was reading a letter and looked about twenty-five. I wonder how she got herself into trouble? It must be worse for her, being older. I wonder why she didn’t get married.
I sat in the smoking room, puffing away on my cigarette. I was in a corner on my own, well away from the rest of the girls. I didn’t want to mix with them because we had nothing to say to each other. They were girls from all around the country; there was no one from Dublin. I didn’t like the look of some of them; they were a bit rough.
I was shocked to hear them telling each other this was their second and third time! How in the name of Jesus could you make a mistake a second time? Not unless you were like bloody Sally, my mother. No! I don’t want anything to do with them.
‘I’m due now in two weeks!’ one said to the other, sucking on her cigarette, flopping out her legs on the worn-out lino on the floor, then examining her man’s pair of slippers that had seen better days. She had walked the backs off them, and her red swollen legs looked disgusting, spread out with her belly hanging down sitting on her lap. She looked about forty but was really in her twenties.
I got up and wandered out of the smelly, smoky room. There were no windows to air the place, and the four dirty-green walls would put years on you. I wandered out to the yard and stopped at a long line of outhouses. It must have been a coach house at one time.
‘Hello!’
I looked around to see a girl with brown curly hair smiling at me. ‘Are ye looking for the laundry?’ she asked, ready to direct me.
‘No, I’m just taking a ramble.’
‘Sure, ye might as well. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah!’ I said, eyeing her belly, wishing I was as big, then I could get out faster.