by Martha Long
OK! Here we are! Me shopping trolley is still where I left it. I heaved it around, feeling the weight of it, and pushed it towards the way in. It was a bit clearer now, with only a couple of people coming in. I stood still, taking stock. No sign of the uniform! No one’s taking any notice of me. People are busy milling around, going backwards and forwards, coming in and going out, heading for the doors.
OK! Now is the time to make a move. I headed off, pushing me way through the crowds walking in front of me, then turned right, making my way towards the gap for the way in. I kept me eyes peeled ahead, taking no notice of the checkouts with people lined up to pay for their shopping. The checkouts were lined the length of the shop, leaving only room enough for people to walk past to get in for the shopping.
This is it! Me heart dived up into me mouth, and I held me breath, heaving the trolley into the gap. Suddenly, a crowd of people surged in, blocking me path. I was stuck. Eyes landed on me, and heads dipped, taking in the full trolley load of stuff not wrapped in plastic bags. Before they had a chance to make this out, I was pushing. ‘Sorry, excuse me, please.’ Then without warning, a tall man in a pinstripe suit pushed his way through, and our eyes locked on each other. ‘Excuse me, please!’ I said, carrying on about me business. He stopped in front of me, staring from me to the trolley, wondering and waiting as he figured out what was his next move. What’s going on here? I could see his head thinking.
‘Sorry! I need to get out!’ I puffed, pushing past him as he leaned himself away to let me get past. I wobbled to the front entrance and out the door into the cold, dark night of the wintry car park. I could hear footsteps behind me, taking long steps. His hand landed on my shoulder. ‘Wait a minute, please. Can you come back to the shop with me?’
Suddenly I was looking up into the face of the man in the pinstripe suit. ‘Sorry?’ I said, looking puzzled at him.
‘The shopping!’ he pointed, still not on sure ground. ‘You haven’t paid for these!’ he said, looking shocked, wondering if he was right or wrong.
‘I most certainly have paid for these,’ I said quietly, keeping my voice steady. ‘No! You are assuming that because they are not wrapped in bags, I didn’t pay for them. I actually went back from the checkout after paying. I asked the girl for a box – it’s much handier than a shopping bag. She couldn’t hold up the queue, so I said I would go back in and look for one myself. I couldn’t find any empty boxes. So what you saw is not what you are thinking. You’re not the manager here!’ I said, making a guess. ‘I know him. He’s very helpful. I shop here every week. He helps me to load up the car when my mother drives me!’
We stared at each other. His bright grey eyes stared at my face, with our eyes boring into each other. It was like a game of poker. I was playing for everything I had. Sarah was lying sick at home in a cold miserable flat, waiting for me to come home and take care of her. Nothing on earth was more important than getting out of this in one piece. He was still not sure. One false move, one flicker of nerves on my part and that’s it! I’m dragged back inside!
‘Ask the checkout girl!’ I said. ‘The third one from the end. But first check with the manager. He knows me! If you put me through any difficulty, having to answer for my honesty, it will humiliate me! Certainly it will make . . .’ I hesitated, giving a little shake of my head. ‘The shop needs its reputation,’ I said quietly, lifting my chin a fraction and pinning him with a steely look in my eyes.
With that, his eyes widened then narrowed at the veiled threat. We bored into each other, with him measuring, gauging, trying to get the feel of me.
Don’t let go, Martha! Just hold your ground, say nothing, do nothing. Keep still; very, very still. Stand him down. Let him weaken.
We were two people locked in a deadly stillness. Nothing could be heard but the terrible silence as his mind assessed, calculated, worked out the risk. He too had a lot to lose. My only hope is in his hesitation. Right now, I’ve grabbed the high ground.
I stared him out, daring him. Not letting go of an inch. Or any minute now I may be marched from the sweet freedom of this cold, dark car park, straight back into the blinding light of that shop, with people milling all around, all happily helping themselves to any amount of Christmas cheer a body could want. Then they’ll pay up and drive back to their lovely warm homes, feeling very satisfied. Now they are ready for their big Christmas celebrations.
He will have to fight his way through that heavy crowd, dragging me with him. Because I won’t go quietly! People will stop to stare. They will tut-tut at the shoplifter, righteous in their disgust at the thief, while they feel for their heavy wallets, bursting with wads of money. Some will probably know me to see.
The police will arrive. I will be taken away in a police car, a statement made out, with a demand that I sign it. Then I will be locked in a police cell, waiting for someone who will never come to bail me out. These days they send shoplifters to prison! Jesus! Jesus! Help me now in my hour of need.
I slowed my breath, tuning into every instinct in me, calling on everything I had ever learned about human nature, wanting to find a way to make him back down.
I slowly closed my eyes, then opened them, pinning them hard on him. He stared back, rock solid. I could see his body was rigid as he sized me up. I slowly took in a long, silent breath, trying to stop the throbbing pain of fear that was threatening to drain the life out of me.
Suddenly, there was a shift in his eyes. I could see him stiffen, his eyes harden into a decision. He’s resolving to do his job.
My heart lunged, then roared up into my head, making me see sparks, and the noise deafened me. I’m sure he can see it thundering through my chest and hear the banging. Jesus! The pain is like being hit with a sledgehammer.
Oh, sweet Jesus! He’s going to get me arrested! All is lost! The child is on her own! A terrible dread hit me as terror drove out the bravado, the daring, leaving me wide open to collapse. I gripped the handle of the trolley, trying to squeeze the life back into me. I had nothing left but to show him a glimpse of the real me. Please! My eyes pleaded, looking to the man behind the suit, behind the job. See all that can be lost to me. I need the food. I want my little girl to know that Santa has not fogotten her. It is Christmas; we have nothing. I have done what I had to do. Now, a terrible power is in your hands. Just let me be, go my way.
‘Please!’ I whispered, letting my eyes show all this. ‘Please believe me. I have paid!’
Suddenly, he softened, relaxed his shoulders, saying, ‘Go on then! It’s OK!’
I moved off slowly, feeling meself going weak, and wobbled away with the full trolley. I am not out of harm’s way yet! I need to make distance between him and me and this place. He knew! He knew I robbed the shopping! I’m sure of it! He’s not stupid! Maybe a bit of him didn’t want to take the risk I was friends with the manager. Whoever he is! But in his heart he knew I didn’t pay. He really let me go out of the goodness of his heart!
Oh, sweet Jesus! In my very hour of need, you let a miracle happen! I could have lost everything. Sarah would have been destroyed. That young one sitting there in the miserable, cold, silent flat. Waiting, not knowing what’s happening. Desperate to get home to her own house. Then the panic after she sees nothing happening. I didn’t come back. Jesus! Never! Never again. Nothing on earth is worth what I just did! But yet, I had to! There’s no one else to put the food on the table. That costs money. It’s Christmas. A time for children. I don’t know anyone I could ask. I never get that close to people. I keep my business to meself. Everyone I know is just someone I know! That’s all. Yeah! I had to take the risk!
A thought came into my head. God helps those who help themselves. Thank you, God, for looking after us, I whispered quietly as I made my way to get the bags outa the bushes and land them on top of the trolley. I will have to push this all the way home. Who cares? We have enough now to keep us going. My only worry now, dear God, is that Sarah will be well and on her feet again. Come the New Year, that’s
it! I will go all out with a vengeance. We have to get a home of our own, come hell or high water! I won’t rest until I get that!
Sarah was to sleep soundly through the depths of those dark, lonely winter nights, while I was plunged into an abyss of swirling fear, pain and worry. Always constant, day by day it went on – fighting to keep the wolf from the door. She lay tucked up for the night in her little bed next to mine, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. I was so very protective of her. She made everything worthwhile.
I had been very lucky! She slowly recovered, managing to eat and keep the food down. But by the time that virus had worked its evil, it took away the life of a little girl from the infant class in Sarah’s school. They had diagnosed her too late. Just like Sarah.
For some reason that morning, I had woken up and went over to her in the bed. Something told me to feel her liver. It was hard. Then I took her over to the window. Yes! I could see the yellow in her eyes where it should have been white. That is when I rang that doctor. ‘Get yer arse down here now!’ I hissed. ‘She has hepatitis!’
‘Nonsense!’ the aul git said.
‘You better get down here or I’m having you up before the medical council!’ I snarled at the bastard. Three times I had taken the poor child up to him! Three times he told me there was nothing wrong! I kept sending her back to fucking school. She ended up looking haggard and worn down, dragging herself around like a very old woman in a child’s body. That’s when I put her to bed. That’s when I rang that doctor.
‘Yes, hepatitis,’ he said, shaking his head as he wandered back out the door. The old fucker was going senile! Oh, we were lucky! Sarah was just getting back on her feet when I heard the news about the other little girl’s death. They had flown her to London by helicopter. But it was too late! My child had been spared, but another poor mother was plunged into a nightmare agony of loss and pain. It would probably have hurt less if someone had cut her heart out without an anaesthetic.
We went to the church that cold, dark January night. Her little white coffin was sitting at the top of the chapel. Everyone had gone home. All the prayers for the dead had been said for her. It was quiet now. Hardly a soul in the chapel. Her little coffin looked so lonely, sitting there on the bier, with her now resting in God’s house before they buried her the next day. I closed my eyes, whispering a little prayer to give her Godspeed on her journey to heaven.
‘Mummy!’
I opened my eyes, seeing Sarah looking up at me with a haunted look on her pale face. She was shaking my arm.
‘What, darling?’ I whispered, bending me head to her.
‘Why did they leave Emily here? Look! They’ve gone off leaving her in her coffin all alone! Why do they do that?’ she whispered, pointing up at the coffin. ‘Do you think she can still hear even though she’s dead?’ she said, thinking, trying to figure out death.
‘Well, she needs the rest here, darling. One last time waiting with God in his house, so her mummy and daddy, and all her family and everyone can say goodbye to her. Then when they’ve buried her body – because she won’t need that any more – then the angels will come and carry her up to heaven.’
‘But, Mummy,’ she said, not satisfied. ‘Why did she die? I got better!’
I sighed, thinking. ‘Darling, everyone is not the same. She was only staying here for a little while. She was a present for her mummy! You know how cute and funny she was. She made her mummy and everyone very happy. Now God wants her back, because she has another job to do in heaven.’
‘What job?’ she said, letting her mouth hang open, with a faraway look in her eyes, taking in everything I was saying.
‘Well, God has lots of angels running around him. Maybe Emily has to sort them all out. They can lose the run of themselves, you know! Tormenting each other, laughing and pushing and shoving, getting very noisy and driving God mad because they won’t listen to him. So now it’s time for Emily to get up there and sort the lot of them out. She can line them all up and get them to do what they’re told! That’s what children are for in heaven, you know, Sarah!’
‘Really?’ she said, letting her eyes gape out of her head at the wonder of it.
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Taking charge of all the angels! That’s what heaven children do. They have to make sure they are doing their job of looking after the child they were given down here on earth. That’s why a lot of kids get into trouble. Their angels have taken their eye off them, then the bold angel has rushed off somewhere, gone to have their own fun when God is not looking. Then they start playing with each other, letting the poor child they were supposed to be minding get themselves into trouble!’ I said, letting air out through me nose, sounding very definite. ‘So that’s where Emily is off to,’ I said, watching her turn her head as the two of us stared up at the little lonely coffin.
But I did get us a house. Yes! All my dreams came true on the one day we moved in there. But somehow my own home was not what I expected. I couldn’t settle. I missed me old roots. I used to keep wandering back and staring at the old place – our big, old, damp Georgian flat – feeling very lonely. Me, with my very own house left waiting for me to come home. It seemed very empty, even leaving aside the fact I had no furniture. That didn’t bother me. We sat on the floor on cushions and dreamed about what it would be like when I get the money eventually. We would decorate it and get lovely furniture.
I got a do-it-yourself book and made repairs, plastering under the window where the damp patch was, and ended up doing everything meself. Well, me and Charlie did, God love him! I bought a lovely big ceiling rose, after getting it cheap, for the sitting room. Charlie mixed the brown, butter-looking paste to stick it to the ceiling. Then he slapped the rose to it, getting a sudden thought.
‘Martha, I can’t let go! This stuff takes ages te dry. If I take me hand away now it will smash te the floor!’ he puffed, staring at me in shock, with the eyes hanging outa his head.
I stared, dropping the cigarette butt outa me mouth with that sudden, worrying thought. ‘What can we do, Charlie?’ I said, staring up at him, trying to think.
‘I don’t know, Martha,’ he whispered. ‘Ye’re always gettin me te do stuff, then when it turns out wrong ye blame me!’ he snorted, beginning to get very annoyed.
‘Well, now, Charlie,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘There has to be a way around this. We just need to think. But the most important thing is, Charlie, not to let it drop and smash. So, tell you what! You stay up there holding that tight until it dries, then I’ll make us all a lovely dinner when the job’s done! How about that, Charlie?’ I said, raising me eyebrows, staring up at him with a smile on my face, thinking that was the best thing I could come up with.
‘Wha? But tha’ll take hours, Martha! Me bleedin arm’s droppin offa me already!’
‘Well! Have you any better ideas?’ I roared, losing me own rag.
‘Wait! Where ye goin? Come back, Martha!’
‘Listen, Charlie,’ I said, rushing back in after getting a great idea to cheer him up. ‘Tell you what. I’ll get you a nice cup of tea now, Charlie. You can drink it with one hand, and I’ll even hold the cigarette for you so you can have a smoke at the same time! How’s that?’ I said, flying off to the kitchen.
‘No, wait! Come back! Bring the sweepin brush. I have a better idea!’ he roared.
I left him holding the brush to the ceiling with one hand and sucking on his cigarette butt with the other.
Yeah! Charlie and me. We did everything ourselves that needed doing in the house. Even making bookshelves for Sarah. She ended up with a lovely room. But the empty feeling of loneliness never left me. I missed my old flat. I began to mistrust the idea of happiness. I should have been happy with my own home. But the problems were still the same. I began to feel there was no such thing as being free from worry. It was all in the mind. Nothing makes us happy until we can find the happiness inside ourselves. I couldn’t do that.
I began having health problems. When
I moaned to the doctor, he glanced up at me and swiped a page out of his notebook and told me to run to the chemist and take these pills.
‘What are they for?’ I asked lethargically.
‘Help you sleep!’
I was back. ‘I want to wake up some time! They don’t work, I’m still sick. I’m not well.’
Another swipe off the pad. ‘Take this and run to the chemist.’
‘What will they do?’
‘Help you relax!’
‘I’m back! They don’t work. I’ve now turned into a zombie!’
Pause, while he thinks, scratches his head. ‘Would you like to see a psychiatrist?’ His hand is held over his pad.
‘It’s not in my head. Look at the colour of me! I’m the colour of cigarette ash!’ I scream.
‘Then if you don’t want to take the pills, what do you want me to do?’
He was wrong, of course. I was very sick, and not in the bloody head. I was yet to find out what the diagnosis really was.
So life dragged on. I accepted it when old-age pensioners shot past me when I walked down to the shops. Premature old age, I told myself in the mirror, as a grey-faced old woman stared back at me, showing a severe loss of weight. Along with all the other things happening to my body. That was it! I carried on dragging myself through life like a snail. So getting to find that inner peace, or whatever would give it to me, was looking like a distant dream. I was pissing in the wind! Yeah! So much for happiness just being around the corner when you get what you think you need! No, happiness is a very complicated business! And I find it very difficult to take change that’s not of my own making.
I suppose the howls of suffering of that little girl I once was, with her nightmare childhood, still scream in the bowels of my soul at any threat to my fragile hold on security. That little girl deep within me is never at rest. Not any more! She had lain quiet for years, lying in her dark little corner, buried deep in the dark recesses of my mind, keeping all her dark secrets to herself. She could do nothing. I had forgotten her while I was busy barrelling my way through life. I had a dream. Nothing and nobody was going to stand in the way. When I took a knock and was sent flying, I sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, tearing back into the mad arena of life, fighting for my share. Outa me way! I don’t listen to people telling me what I can and can’t have. I don’t hear when they say it won’t work. What you want is impossible, they bleat! Rubbish! I mutter. If men can do these things, well, I’m getting my share too!