by Martha Long
‘I heard tell, but I didn’t get the full story, or even the half of it. So wha happened to the other child ye say is missin? Your sister was it?’
‘Yeah, Ceily me sister. I don’t know I woke up an she was gone. Mister Mullins was takin care a us, but then Delia his daughter died, she got kilt in the fightin, Mister Mullins brought her home from the hospidal an now she’s dead in the house. The handywomen are gettin her ready fer her wake.’
‘Who? Who’s layin her out?’
‘Nellie Fry an Essie Bullcock.’
‘Oh tha pair, say no more,’ she said, throwin her eye at me an clampin her mouth shut then lookin away. ‘Come on, we’re just here,’ she said, turnin right onta the North Circular Road, then left down the lane to a row a cottages.
‘Where did you get them knickers? They’re makin a holy show a ye, child. Sure you’d get two a me in them, never mind an infant like yerself!’
‘They belong te Delia, she’s dead now. Tha’s Mister Mullins daughter.’
‘Who put them on ye?’
‘Ceily me sister. She had te wash me own because they was dirty, I fell down on them when I was hidin in the lane where me backyard is. An me coat got dirty too! So did me socks, an I lost me wellie somewhere, but I don’t remember where.’
‘Right, I’m here! Hold onta tha bag while I look fer me hall door key,’ she said, pushin me back against the wall, lettin the bag rest against me belly an wrappin me hands around the handles.
‘Here we go,’ she said, pushin in the blue door into a little hallway. It was lovely an warm, wit stairs lookin ahead of us an two doors, one on the right an the other on the left. She opened the door te the right, an immediately I saw a lovely red-hot coal fire. It was just sittin there glowin bright red in the dark, because she had banked it up, doin just like Mammy does wit her wet slack from the coal. I knew this was right, because ours always looks like tha when we go out, the coal put on then packed high wit wet slack. Mammy always does tha, because she wants te keep the fire burnin without usin up all the coal. Otherwise, it would be usin the good fuel an havin the fire go out anyway.
The room looked lovely wit the roarin-red fire sittin in the fireplace, an around tha a wooden mantelpiece goin all the way up te the ceilin. It was glitterin shiny polished dark wood, an it had a big mirror in the middle an more at the top, an the sides had the same wit shelves as well. An they had lovely little ornaments sittin on them.
Beside tha under the winda, lookin out onta a backyard, was a little dinin table wit matchin chairs an a lovely cream frilly lace tablecloth. Then, as well as tha, she had another heavy plain green cloth sittin underneath. I looked over at the two comfy-lookin cushy fireside chairs wit cushions fer yer back, they were beside the fire one each side. Oh it would be great if I could sit down in one a them now an get a bit a heat fer meself, I thought, feelin very ill at ease standin close te the door. I was wonderin an feelin worried if she was goin te tell me te go. She might just say thanks fer helpin me, then open the door an let me out, wantin me te go. It was nice te talk te her an be a part of somethin fer a while, but then it ends an I think ye’re worser off. Because then it hurts. Yeah, I’m thinkin tha now. I’ve had te be doin a lot of thinkin since I got te be seven an me mammy died, or just went away. No she didn’t die! Not my mammy! She would never do tha!
‘Did ye hear me?’
I came back te me senses an looked up at the granny seein she was sayin something.
‘Wha?’ I said, lookin up at her, seein she was starin at me lookin confused wit her now gettin annoyed.
‘Are ye listenin te me, child? Ye’re gone miles away, is your mind ramblin or wha?’
I said nothin, just waited fer her te finish.
‘I need te put this stuff away before the heat from the fire gets at it,’ she said, draggin up the heavy bag an makin fer the scullery. I could see tha straight ahead te the right, wit the door leadin out from the sittin room. I rushed te grab up the bag an carry it wit her.
‘Put it down on this,’ she said, landin it on a little kitchen table wit a shiny red top an two big grandfather kitchen chairs, they had brown cushions on the seats te keep yer arse in the height a comfort. I wouldn’t say tha word out loud, you would get a box in the mouth fer tha, it’s bad language. But it’s great te be able te think things in yer own mind an keep it te yerself, then ye don’t get inta trouble an you can wonder wha ye like.
‘Will ye bend down there under tha sink an hand me up the big pot?’ she said, holdin out the meat an takin the paper off.
‘Tha one?’ I said, handin her up a middle-size pot.
‘Grand!’ she said, takin it off me an runnin it under the tap. She rinsed it out then filled it half up wit water an put in the streaky bacon. ‘Let tha steep, here! Put it back under the sink, it will keep cool there. I won’t be wantin tha until I cook it on the Sunday fer me dinner. Now, tomorrow I’m goin te make a nice bit a stew, so this neck a lamb should keep grand till then,’ she said, takin down a big white Delft bowl an puttin in the meat. Then she covered it wit a small plate.
‘Here! Take out them vegetables fer me an put them over there, in tha box in the corner. Can you see wha ye’re doin? I can’t see a bloody thing in this dark. The light from the fire is not throwin much in here. Go in an get me the box a matches sittin on the windasill, I’m goin te light this lamp,’ she said, takin down a brass lamp from the shelf over the sink, then liftin off the globe an pullin up the wick.
I rushed back inta the sittin room an grabbed up the matches, then stopped te look at the rest a the room. She had a china cabinet over against the far wall, tha’s to the right when ye come in the door. I leaned across te get a look, seein all her china ornaments sittin on velvet-covered shelves. Then me head moved around seein wha else she had. Oh tha’s lovely! I thought, wit me eyes lightin up takin in the big fancy brass lamp wit the coloured glass globe. I wonder will she light tha?
‘Come on, child! I’m waitin, wha are ye doin, makin the matches?’ she said, leanin her head out the scullery door te get a look at me.
‘Oh sorry, missus!’ I said rushin te her wit me hand out holdin the matches.
‘Oh come on! The night will be gone if I don’t get a move on,’ she said, openin the box an takin out a match. Then she loosened the bottom of the lamp te check how much paraffin oil was left. I could smell it straight away, it was flyin up me nostrils makin me head give a shootin pain. I moved away not wantin te get any more fumes, an suddenly the tiredness hit me.
I feel sick now an me head is startin te pain me. I want te get somethin te drink an lie down an go te sleep, an I want te be all wrapped up lovely an warm, I don’t care about eatin, I’m not hungry any more. I was too tired te do any more than just stand outside, starin in the scullery wit me eyes followin the granny.
She was busy moochin around gettin herself all sorted, now she was bendin down an liftin up the fryin pan, then havin a grand conversation wit herself. ‘Where’s me drippin? Where did I leave down tha fork? I’ll do two rashers, tha young one must be hungry. Wonder when she got fed last? Where are you, child?’ she said shoutin, an me standin lookin at her.
‘I’m here, missus,’ I said, wantin te be over on tha fireside chair an close me eyes.
‘You must be starved wit the hunger, ye poor cratur, I’m goin te give you somethin warm in yer stomach, then we’ll see about gettin you sorted. Wha did you say about tha Mister Mullins? Is he goin te mind youse? Can he do tha? Sure he’s a widow man on his own now, them authorities wouldn’t let a man on his own who’s not a blood relative take care a two little girls,’ she said, starin at me, waitin te see did I understand this. Then forgettin about me, because she was now starin at nothin.
I don’t understand why Mister Mullins can’t mind me an Ceily when she gets back. I can’t understand nothin, an I don’t want to, I just want te get warm an go te sleep, I feel sick!
I looked over at the fire wit the red-hot coals, the heat comin from it was lovely. It was b
ecause the coals were packed high, sittin up in the grate. I turned me head back te look an see wha the granny was up to. She was busy now doin her fryin an butterin bread, then heatin the teapot wit boilin water, ready te make a pot a tea.
I inched me way over te the fire keepin me eye on the granny. I was gettin desperate wit me tiredness, but I didn’t want her te think I was makin meself at home in her house. She won’t like tha an she might open the door an push me out, because you can’t do nothin in someone else’s house until they tell you. You have te wait te be asked before ye can sit down. Oh but I am so tired, me eyes won’t stay open, it feels like there’s a heavy weight pressin them down. I’ll just sit here on the rug in front a the fire, because me legs won’t hold me standin no more, an me head is splittin wit the pain.
I slid meself down onta the rug feelin the heat roar out on top a me, an I gave a big sigh an closed me eyes. Oh I’m in heaven.
15
‘LITTLE ONE, WAKE up, come on up ye get!’
I felt meself shakin an me eyes shot open. I stared into a wrinkled old face wit muddy grey eyes starin back at me.
‘Do ye know where you are? Ye fell asleep. You’ve been like tha fer over three hours, look there’s the clock,’ she said, pointin at the big wooden carved clock on the mantelpiece.
I couldn’t read the time yet, only a little, but not proper.
‘It’s nine o clock! I should get you movin, come on come inta the scullery an have yer bite te eat. Look! I kept yer tea warm sittin on the hob by the fire.’
I followed her finger seein it pointin at two plates. They were sittin, one on top of the other warmin on the hob, tha’s wha you can use te cook on the fire. Lots a people do tha, it’s when they don’t have a gas cooker like my mammy an the granny has.
‘Grab a tea towel,’ she said, makin te stand herself up from the fireside chair.
I just sat meself up an yawned, scratchin me head an wantin te go back te sleep. I gave another yawn an left one eye open te follow the granny, watchin her headin fer the scullery then come back holdin the two hot plates. She was makin sure te carry them in the safety of the tea towel.
I felt a bit hungry now, an the pain in me head was eased.
‘Here, get tha inta ye, you must be starved te death wit the hunger.’
I watched as she lifted the white plate leavin the big one sittin on the tea towel te stop it burnin the table, then she pulled out the big chair fer me, sayin, ‘Sit down an eat this, come on!’
I sat up an looked te see wha I was gettin. A fried egg hard in the middle an a sausage an rasher! The smell went straight up me nose, makin me belly rumble an me mouth water.
‘Here! Have tha cut a bread, it’s fresh turnover, lovely an soft. Then we have te get you movin. I better go down an see tha Mister Mullins, find out what’s happenin. If he doesn’t take ye then you will have te go into a home, they’ll put you away in a convent. Your mother’s dead, Lily. She won’t be back an you’re goin to have te face it. You might not even have a sister, it looks te me like she got lifted as soon as she set foot outside the door, she’s now a goner, put away an locked up in a convent somewhere. You may never find out fer years, or maybe not ever.
‘You have te understand now what’s gone an happened. Because of the terrible trouble, you’ve come to the attention of all the wrong people – the parish priest, the authorities. That’s bad for you an hard fer anyone who wants te just take you in an rear ye wit their own. In your kinda situation it happens more times than not people, neighbours, they do tha quietly without any fuss or bother. It’s understood an accepted by everyone. But once you get attention drawn down on ye, especially from the powers tha be, then you’re done for! They come after you wit the full power a the law behind them. So, my suspicion is that’s what’s after happenin now, your sister has been pulled in an sent away.’
Then she stared at me an pointed the finger, sayin, ‘You poor unfortunate cratur, but if I’m not very much mistaken, you are next. I would say they’re on your tail even as we speak,’ she said, wit her head noddin an her eyes lookin very worried.
I stopped wit the fork aimin fer me wide-open mouth an looked up at her. Me heart crashed inta me stomach fillin me up wit sick. I dropped the fork, not wantin te eat, an I didn’t want te stay here wit her neither.
I stood up fast an held onta me Delia knickers an rushed meself through the sittin room, then stopped dead, lookin at the front door, it was shut an I can’t reach up te open it. I know wha te do! I turned meself around an flew back an grabbed hold of a chair, then dragged it pullin it along the floor te open the door.
‘Come back, where ye goin? Child, you can’t go out now ramblin this time a the night, it’s too dangerous!’
I didn’t listen, I opened the lock then stood down an pulled away the chair. Then I whipped open the door an flew fer all I was worth. I shot across the road on Summerhill not lookin left or right an not even thinkin, I just wanted te run an get away from tha granny an make wha she said go away. My mammy is not dead, an Ceily is not caught an taken away, an tha won’t happen te me neither!
I ran down Portland Row past the convent wit the old maids’ home, I could see lights shinin in the windas. Then I turned off te the left, makin me way home te me own house. There might be a light in my winda too, an Ceily might be home an even Mammy!
I ran faster wit tha idea an me heart was shiverin in me chest wit tha great thought. I turned right onta my street seein lights in windas wit the lamps makin shadows flickerin on the curtains. ‘My street, my house, my mammy, my Ceily, my fambily!’ I muttered, singin it out wit every step of me foot hittin the hard cobble-stone ground. I was ragin an excited an wanted te make war wit the whole world if they tried te do wha the granny did. Everyone has wha belongs te them. Why is it an how then can the peoples in the world think they can take wha belongs te me an my fambily?
I stared ahead lookin te see my house, it was comin closer wit every step. Then it was close an I was right up to it, but now I could feel the heart goin outa me. ‘It’s dead, it’s black, it’s quiet,’ I muttered, sayin all the things tha can happen te make somethin become nothin an turn inta somethin dead.
My house is dead, so Mammy didn’t come home, an, no, not even Ceily made it back. I climbed up onta the windasill an looked in through the curtain. I couldn’t see nothin, only shapes tha look like furniture. I’m now dead too, everyone’s dead, all me fambily! We’re all dead. I’m goin te make meself really dead too! I can … how can I do tha? Easy, wait fer a motor car te pass an run under! Find the canal an throw meself in! Yeah. Lots an lots a way te die.
‘God! You up there? You’re not my friend no more! I won’t ever listen when people start te talk about you, I don’t want you, God! You took away my mammy an ye kept her fer yerself. Ye’re no good! You can strike me dead, go on I dare ye!’ I said, feelin the rage at him makin me chest stick out an me body go all stiff. I wanted te fight him!
‘YE’RE NO GOOD, GOD! Fuck you an fuck the powers tha be an fuck grannies an fuck?! An fuck … you, Ceily, fer runnin out an leavin me all on me own! An, Mammy! You did, you must a got died! Why did ye let God get away wit it? Did ye not think a me an Ceily? I HATE YOU, MA! I HATE YE! An I’m callin ye ma because you hate te be called tha, you always said it was common! So there!’ I shouted, feelin me voice go all hoarse an me throat sore an me head start te pain me again.
‘MAMMYEEEE! Come back!’ I screamed, hearin it come out in a terrible croak. I slid down the door onta the stone-cold ground an heard meself lettin out a terrible keen, it sounded so high it was like the Banshee. Then I opened me mouth wider an howled like a dog after gettin an unmerciful belt of an iron crowbar. I seen it happen an I heard the dog cry, a woman come up beside me an said, ‘He was howlin from the pain.’
‘Well, tha’s wha I’m doin now, God! I hope ye’re ashamed a yerself! An I’m not afraid a you because you can’t do me harm no more so ye can’t.’
I began te shiver like mad an suddenly t
he cold of the damp stone moved all the way through me. I could see the shiny frost on the ground. Me teeth keep knockin, if only I could get back inta me house, then find my Ceily. Then we could go an look fer Mammy! Because a new idea was comin te me about God. Sure wha would he want wit my mammy? She’s no oil paintin she says, but I think she is, I think she’s a very beautiful oil paintin. But if she thinks tha then maybe God thinks tha as well. Yeah, it’s a mistake! People are always gettin everythin wrong, lookit the nuns! They thought they was goin te stop me makin me first Holy Communion.
Tha nun was definite. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Over my dead body!’ She hated me tha one did. She said I had too much te say fer meself fer someone so young, an further! I was beyond turnin into a civil human being because I was too wild an too cheeky te tame. Well! She changed her tune very fast when my mammy had words wit her! Tha’s wha Mammy reported te the neighbours when they waited te hear the result. I was earwiggin, so I heard it all. So yeah, people say things but they get them wrong, an they’re wrong now about my mammy bein dead.
Yeah, an I just had another good idea, me coat an stuff is hangin in Mister Mullins’. Ceily washed an cleaned them, then left the lot hangin on the clothesline strung high up the ceilin. An the key a my house is in me coat pocket. Oh this is a great idea! I’m goin te take meself around there this minute, an I’m just goin te go in sayin I’m gettin me stuff. Then I can come home te me own house, an nobody will be able te get me here. I can do wha I like an even go lookin, searchin the streets fer me mammy an Ceily.