by Bill Walsh
Our uncles sit in the front of the car waiting for Sheamie. Uncle Philip is driving. Sheamie is so excited he kisses Mona, Pippa and me and runs next door to tell the Murphys. Mister Murphy is standing on his front doorstep jingling the change in his trouser pocket. He gives Sheamie a half-crown and Sheamie even kisses Mister Murphy on the cheek because that’s a lot of money.
Sheamie is waving out the back window as they drive away in Grandad’s black Zephyr and we stand at the gate and wave back. Nanny says to Mister Murphy, Did you ever see anything like that in your life, Mossy?
Sheamie’s a grand lad, Annie. But he’ll feel the cold today.
He will, Mossy, indeed he will. ’Tis a wonder you didn’t travel yourself?
Ah, no, Annie, the ban. I’m involved in the GAA, training the young lads with the hurling. I’d be out on me ear if they heard I attended a soccer match. Still an’ all, I’ll watch the highlights on television tonight. What they don’t know won’t trouble them.
True for you, Mossy. What goes on inside your own door stays there. Nobody’s business but your own, I’m always sayin’ it. Not with the crowd of gossipers around this town. Now, I better open the shop before they clamber the door down.
*
The shop is busy. Pippa and me get what Nanny wants from the bottom shelves and Mona gives out the change. Danny sits on the floor behind the counter, his fat cheeks sticky with chocolate, and we wonder how he can eat so much with needles for teeth. Nanny says she can’t wait to see Sheamie, but at tea time there’s no sign and Nanny is worried. She rattles the cups and saucers in the sink and complains to Grandad, I told them not to be drinking. If a thing happens to that child I’ll swing for the pair of them. How will I ever answer to their father? Grandad is warming himself at the fire with Danny asleep on his lap. Grandad says there was a big crowd travelled to the match and the roads are busy, but Nanny is still worried. She brings Grandad his tea on a tray. She leaves it on the arm of the chair so she won’t wake Danny and Grandad has to eat with one hand.
We take turns going out to the front door. The street is dark and silent, no people, no cars, and the road glistens with frost under the streetlights. I wrap my arms around myself and shiver and come back inside and sit on the red rug in front of the fire and watch The Black and White Minstrel Show. There’s a man with a black face and big white lips singing for his Mammy and I know how he feels because I’d walk a million miles for one of my mother’s smiles. Maybe she’ll come home tomorrow.
The music for the nine o’clock news comes on telly when we hear the car parking out on the road. Nanny makes the sign of the cross and whispers, Thank God. The door opens and Nanny springs from her chair.
Where were yee? My pulse is racing here all night. Ages ago you two should have been here with that child.
Uncle Philip has the black stains on his mouth and Uncle John is stumbling in the door behind him singing, When the Blues go marching in. He marches around the room with his arms in the air. We won again. What a fuckin’ team. He catches Pippa’s hand and tries to waltz with her but she pulls away and squats beside the china cabinet with her knees pulled up to her chin.
Nanny shakes her head. There’s no point talking. Yee’re back and that’s the main thing. Go out to the kitchen and eat something, yee’re a right pair of gawks.
No, we’re goin’ to the pub.
Nanny says, Not in that state, and pushes them out to the kitchen.
Sheamie is standing at the door with his blue hat on. His glasses are foggy and there are tearstains. Danny’s eyes open and shut and he goes back to sleep on Grandad’s lap. I want to ask why Sheamie is crying but my uncles scare me with their singing and dancing and bringing Sheamie home with tearstains. I wish Daddy were here. I want my Daddy.
Nanny comes from the kitchen drying her hands in the tea towel. She says Sheamie looks tired and tells him to come out to the kitchen for his supper. It’s early to bed for him after his long day. She doesn’t say anything about his tearstains but she’s not wearing her glasses so maybe she can’t see. She says, Mass in the morning, Sheamie. I can’t be draggin’ you out of the bed at my age.
When our uncles have gone to the pub and Nanny and Grandad are dozing in their chairs, Mona, Pippa and me sneak upstairs. Danny is asleep at the end of the bed and Sheamie is sitting up sobbing. The light is off but we can see him in the dim glow from the streetlights through the gap in the curtains. We ask what happened but he won’t say. He’s going to tell Nanny in the morning. I sit on the end of the bed just as Nanny comes to stand at the bedroom door.
Out, out, the lot of yee and leave Sheamie alone before I crack yeer arses. Grandad is complaining over the racket and I don’t blame him one little bit. Get downstairs the three of yee.
We duck under her arm and run downstairs but when we hear the bedroom door close and there’s no sign of Nanny, we creep back up again, careful because the landing light is on and she’ll see us if she walks out. Mona is ahead, three steps from the top. I’m one step below pushing her but she won’t go higher. Pippa is where she always is, at the back whispering, This is dangerous. What’s Nanny saying?
I hate being in the middle. I’m too far from the door to hear anything and if Nanny walks out I’m too close to get away. Mona can’t hear anything because of her deaf ear. Pippa turns to go. Then I hear Nanny.
Orphanage talk! Is that what you learned in Australia? Don’t ever say a thing like that again or I won’t answer for what happens. They’ll take you away and for good this time.
I hear her bare feet moving across the lino and turn to tell Pippa but Pippa is gone already. Mona pinches my shoulder trying to get past but I won’t let her. I want to cry out but I don’t have time. The bedroom door opens. I spread my arms and jump two steps at a time and somehow we all get to the hallway before Nanny gets to the landing.
In the morning Nanny is quiet. She stares at the dirty cups and saucers in the sink from last night’s supper. Her eyes are red around the edges like she hasn’t slept and her nightgown is wrinkled down the back like she’s been sitting a long time. She doesn’t even boil milk for our cornflakes like she usually does when the mornings are frosty. She tells Mona to go to mass with Grandad, Sheamie and our uncles. Pippa and me can stay home. We haven’t made our First Holy Communion yet and it won’t be a sin. Leave Danny asleep in bed. She lifts her cup of tea and puts the plate with the slice of toast on top of the cup and shuffles back to bed. I wonder is Nanny going to die and we’ll be on our own again.
When the others go to mass, Pippa and me go out to play with Toby Murphy from next door. He’s seven like Pippa. He has freckles on his nose and a loose tooth in his top gum that he pulls at so it’ll fall out quicker and he’ll get the money from his mother. He says there’s no such thing as a Tooth Fairy and when I call him a liar he says your mother comes in the night when she thinks you’re asleep and takes the tooth from under your pillow. It’s your mother who leaves the silver shilling, he says, and that makes me sad because now I know why I didn’t get any money in the orphanage.
See, says Pippa, told you there’s no such a thing as fairies.
Mister and Missus Murphy come out the front door in their Sunday clothes. Mister Murphy wears a black suit, white shirt and red tie. Missus Murphy is wearing a bright yellow hat with a net that covers her eyes. She says Toby can play with Pippa and me but don’t go in the house. There might be an accident and nobody would know.
We won’t, Missus Murphy.
We play marbles on the pavement until it starts to rain and we stand in the hallway. That isn’t really the house and what else can we do when it’s raining? We sit on the stairs; that’s all right too, that’s not really the house either because the front door is open. We sit and watch the rain making puddles on the footpath that runs from the front door to the garden gate till I’m tired from standing. I sit on the bottom step of the stairs. Pippa and Toby sit on the step above me. Toby twists his loose tooth and Pippa puts her little finger
in her mouth to see if she has a tooth loose. I don’t like them being higher so I move to the step above, then they move to the step above me, then I move and soon we’re on the landing and we can see inside Toby’s bedroom.
There’s a bed by the window and a poster on the wall of men in red shirts. Toby says that’s Manchester United and the one with the long hair is George Best and he’s the best soccer player in the world. There’s a Scalectrix track laid out on the floor like a number eight. It has two cars, one blue and one red. Toby says the red racing car is the best. The blue one gets stuck on the corners and, when you push it, it flies off the track and bounces off the wall.
Toby keeps the red car for himself and Pippa and me take turns with the blue one but we get fed up with it always bouncing off the wall and play Mammies and Daddies instead. Pippa is the Mammy and I’m the baby ’cos Pippa says she can’t pretend to be a baby when she’s seven. I lie under the bed next to the football and Pippa bends in over me and rubs my forehead. It’s dusty down here and there are balls of white fluff in the corners and around the bed legs but I don’t mind. I close my eyes and feel Mum beside me. She tells me to sleep now and she climbs onto the bed. I close my eyes and dream of Australia where everything is blue and warm and I don’t take any notice of the scream from the bedroom door. I’m at home in my own bed in Australia, my mother is here and I’m safe.
A Scalectrix car comes flying under the bed and I bang my forehead off the edge of the bed when I look out and up at Missus Murphy marching across the floor. Toby is kneeling on the bed with his short pants around his ankles. I can’t see Pippa until Missus Murphy drags her off the bed. She’s shaking Pippa by the arm and calling her, Bad girl, bad girl. Then she sees me.
What are you doing down there?
I’m the baby. I’m asleep.
Up child. Up out of it.
She drags Pippa and me by the arms to our Nanny’s and tells Nanny at the front door, Annie, I found those two up in the bedroom with our Toby and what that blonde one was doing to him a married woman wouldn’t do on her wedding night. I know they’re young and curious, but there’s curious and there’s what I saw. You have enough on your plate and not many would take on five young children. But if Mossy finds out there will be Hell to pay.
Nanny’s cheeks are pale and she turns her old grey eyes to the doorstep. She clears her throat to tell Missus Murphy she’ll get to the bottom of it. She closes the front door and turns her angry grey eyes on Pippa.
Where are you learning that filth? I had Sheamie last night, and now you shaming me in front of the neighbours. Who showed you that carry-on?
Pippa looks at me, then up at Nanny. Pippa’s finger is in her mouth and her bright blue eyes flood with tears because she doesn’t know what she’s done wrong. Neither do I.
Tell me, Nanny says, tell me right this second or I’ll slap your arse so hard you won’t sit for a month.
Uncle John showed me, Nanny.
Nanny struggles to sit on the stairs. She holds her hand over her mouth and beats her other hand off her chest and makes whimpering sounds that scare us. She stays like that until Mona comes in from mass with her rosary beads wrapped around her fingers. Mona tells Nanny that Grandad brought Sheamie to the pub and they’ll be back later. Nanny sends me upstairs until I’m called and tells Pippa to wait for her out in the kitchen. She sends Mona outside and warns her, don’t come in unless she’s called.
I go to our bedroom and climb up on the bed. Koala is on my pillow and I pick him up because he looks scared. We’ve always been together. When my mother left, he was there. When I went to the orphanage he came with me and when we came to our Nanny’s I carried him all the way from Australia so he wouldn’t be alone. He’s smaller now and his ear is torn, but only a little.
I carry him in my arms to the window and look for Mona. She’s sitting on the footpath in the rain. I press my nose against the cold damp glass and think about calling her but her back is to me and she wouldn’t hear. I wish she’d turn around. Mum and Dad said it was an accident. I remember when it happened. Our mother was there. She bent down and covered her head with her hands. I saw Daddy’s hand going up, his fingers touching the light bulb. I screamed. Then Mona ran to help Mum and Daddy hit her on the side of the head. Even with my fingers in my ears I could hear the thud. I stopped screaming. Mona was lying on the floor. There was a crooked line of blood from her ear to the corner of her mouth. It was an accident. That’s all. Your Daddy didn’t mean to do it, Matilda. Everything is all right now. We’re moving up north, we’ll get a new house. It’ll be a new start for everyone and we’ll forget everything bad that happened. Don’t cry anymore, sweetheart. Mummy hates it when you cry.
I hear Pippa calling and my knees go wobbly. I leave Koala wrapped in Grandad’s green coat so he’ll be safe and go out onto the landing just as Pippa is closing the front door behind her. I don’t want to go downstairs but I hear Nanny at the kitchen door calling me.
Nanny is sitting at the kitchen table. Her two hands are flat on the table with the breadcrumbs.
Close the door, Matilda, and sit down.
She’s not barking at me but I jump. I don’t want to sit down. The door is a little open. Nanny says to close it fully and sit down. I close it and lean against it.
Sit down, Matilda.
She moves an empty chair from under the table and the scrape of its legs across the floor sends me back even closer to the door.
Sit down, I said.
I was only the baby, Nanny. I wasn’t bad. I promise, Nanny, I wasn’t.
Nanny slams her palms on the table and the sugar bowl crashes to the floor.
For the last time, sit down!
I creep towards the table feeling the sugar under my shoes. I sit, I stand, I sit again. Nanny keeps her eyes straight ahead at the wall.
I want the truth, Matilda.
Yes, Nanny.
Are you going upstairs to those bedrooms with your uncles, any of them?
I don’t know what to tell her. Uncle Philip said it was a secret. Our secret. And you can’t tell secrets.
Nanny barks and I hop. I feel my heart racing.
I want the truth! Tell the truth and nothing will happen. Tell a lie and the mark will be on your tongue. Do you understand?
Yes, Nanny.
Are you going upstairs with your uncles?
Yes, Nanny.
Which one?
Uncle Philip, Nanny.
Does he make you do things?
Yes, Nanny.
She springs to her feet and sends me curling back in the chair. I turn away and cover my head with my hands and wait to be slapped but nothing happens. I wait some more and still nothing happens. I take my arm away but only a little. I look back and her brown tongue is in my eyes screaming like she’s not my Nanny anymore.
You’re a filthy liar! You made it up. Who told you to make it up? Did Sheamie tell you to say that?
I’m not, Nanny. I’m telling the truth.
Sheamie told you to say it. Didn’t he?
I’m sorry, Nanny, I’ll be good, Nanny, don’t send me away. Please, Nanny. I promise, Nanny. I promise I’ll be good.
I feel the burning between my legs. I can’t help myself. It runs down my legs and makes a puddle on the floor. Nanny pulls her hands down her face and holds them at her chin making her mouth look long. She tells me to stop crying and makes me promise never to tell or they’ll put me away for ever. Do you hear, Matilda?
I won’t, Nanny. I’m sorry, Nanny.
Nanny sobs in her apron and I don’t know what to do. I want to say, I love you, Nanny, so she’ll put her arms around and tell me nothing bad will happen, but the words don’t come. She dries her eyes on the apron, stoops to pick up the five broken pieces of the sugar bowl and drops them in the plastic bin by the back door before washing her hands at the sink.
Nanny sends Uncle Philip and Uncle John out of the house. I see them through the upstairs window putting their bags in the boot o
f the car. They’re talking to Grandad and shaking their heads, no.
A few days later Nanny closes the shop because she’s getting too old for it. Grandad only has his pension and she can’t afford the five of us and anyway the house is too small. She’s sent for Daddy and she warns me again not to open my mouth. If your father finds out he’ll kill you. You know what he’s temper is like as well as I do, Matilda.
Daddy comes home. You can see how angry he is when he slams the green canvas bag on the floor and goes out to Nanny and Grandad in the kitchen. Grandad closes the kitchen door but I can hear Daddy screaming, clattering chairs and thumping the table. The five of us stare at the fire, frightened to look left or right. Then the kitchen goes quiet. Danny stands up to go out to them but Mona grabs him by the arm and puts him sitting on her lap. Danny starts to cry and we have to put our fingers to our lips to tell him shush, but he won’t shush till Sheamie gives him piggybacks around the room. The voices start from the kitchen again but they’re not shouting. First Nanny’s, then Daddy’s. Daddy walks in and looks down at the five of us but I don’t know what that means because you never know what grown-ups mean until they tell you. Daddy asks if we’ll go to live with our uncle and aunts in England. Mona asks if they’ll take us and Daddy says he doesn’t know yet.
Now we’re all crying, except Sheamie, who’s staring at the floor, and Danny, who’s pulling at Sheamie’s arm for another piggyback. Grandad comes in from the kitchen and tells Danny, Not now, Sheamie is tired. But Danny cries and tugs at Sheamie’s arm again and Grandad lifts Danny into his arms and carries him to the kitchen to make him bread and jam and that makes Danny smile because bread and jam is as good as a piggyback anytime.
While we’re waiting for the phone call from London there’re more rows out in the kitchen. I think Daddy is changing his mind about us going to our aunts or uncle in England. Nanny screams we’re his responsibility and he shouts back she took us and he wants us kept together. I’m upstairs looking out the bedroom window with my fingers in my ears when I see Mossy coming up the front garden path to say there’s a phone call.