by Honor Harlow
“Dervla, the tinker’s funeral means I’ll be spending the night in the barracks,” Daddy told Mammy.
“Is there many of them in town, William?”
“The place is black with them which means trouble.”
“Well, if you see Mick the Sweep, tell him we’ll be needing the chimney swept before Christmas.”
“I’ll wait til the funeral is over, Dervla.”
“But won’t he be glad of the work?”
“He will, but I won’t say anything until after the funeral.”
“Why’s is that?”
“There was murder at the last one. When the coffin was in the clay, one of the women started screaming they were burying a Mayo man in Galway soil.”
Mammy laughed and Daddy went on imitating the way the woman spoke.
“The curse of Christ on the lock of ye. Poor auld Kate’s Martin will never have a bit of peace until he’s laid to rest where he belongs.” Daddy left saying, “The public houses will be doing great trade tonight.”
After teatime, Mammy asked me if I had made friends with Loretta Fitzgerald.
“Mammy, remember you told me children are seen but not heard.”
“I did but what has that to do with Loretta.”
“Well, I’m sitting in the desk behind her, and if I want to ask her to be my palsy-walsy, I’d have to talk loud over the desk. I remembered what you said about being seen, not heard.”
Mammy looked down on me with a question in her eyes. I didn’t want to tell her I spent the whole day on the bad side and started to talk before she could say anything else.
“Mammy, there were piles of new children in the class.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“I didn’t.”
“What were their names? I might know their mammy and daddies.”
“No Mammy, the nun didn’t call out their names like the rest of us.”
That made Mammy stop, and a funny look came on her face. “What were the children like, Mary?”
“They all came in together in twos.”
“What door did they come in through?”
“The one that goes out to the small garden.
“What small garden?”
“The one with the statue of Our Lady inside the railings and when you open the gate, you are out on the big road.”
“Mary, don’t you remember I told you that is the Cork Road entrance?” Mammy said vexed because I didn’t know the name of the street.
“They came in that one and not the way we go in.”
The cross look was still on her face. “They are from The Home.”
“What’s The Home, Mammy?”
“Mary, I don’t want you talking to those children. You keep away from them. Do you hear me?”
“I do but what is The Home, Mammy?”
“Well, heed me. I don’t want you anywhere near those children from The Home.”
Mammy never answered me when I asked her a question, so I knew she mightn’t tell me what the Home was. I promised I wouldn’t go near them, so she’d see I was good and then she might say something else about the children.
“I won’t go near them but why have they no names. Are they like Mr Delaney’s dogs?
“What do you mean?” she snapped.
“Mr Delaney’s dogs have no name. He only says ‘Dog’ when he kicks them out of the way.”
“That’s enough out of you about Mr Delaney kicking dogs. God knows, he is a lovely man but unfortunate with the dogs he buys.” Mammy was a silly goose to say he was a lovely man, but I didn’t care what she said about him, only about the children.
“Mammy, why have the bunch of children no names.”
“Because they are from The Home and have no daddies.”
“I am from home Mammy and the nun calls me Mary. Why doesn’t she call the children by their names?”
“Mary, curiosity killed the cat.”
“I’m not a cat. Mammy, answer me why the children have no names,” I said wanting to stamp my foot on the ground. I didn’t cos I knew that would make her more cross, but I could not stop the puss coming on my face.
“A cheeky, bold child is what you are.”
“Answer me.”
“Manners Mary!” Mammy always said ‘manners’ when she didn’t want me to talk about something, but I didn’t care about manners and asked her.
“Maura McLoughlin has no daddy, and she has a name.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember we went to Maura’s daddy’s funeral and saw his coffin in the chapel. Maura is Maura McLoughlin. Then, why don’t the children have a name, Mammy?” Mrs McLoughlin’s two girls were called Maura and Catherine.
“Mary, that’s enough out of you.”
That meant I have to stop talking but I didn’t want to and was opening my mouth when Mammy said, in a real vexed voice, and holding her finger in front of my face. “Not another word out of you. How many times have I told you children are to be seen, not heard? But that father of yours has you spoiled rotten.”
She said that daddy had me spoiled rotten in a voice that sounded like Daddy was bold. He wasn’t, cos he never said ‘manners’, he let me talk and he answered my questions. He was always telling me, “You’re the best wee lass in all Ireland, England and broad Scotland.” And in the morning time he picked me up and put me on the crossbar of his bike and told me to lean against him when he pedalled to school. He was smashing and he called me lass instead of girl because Mammy said he came from Cavan and they talk different there. My nanna Arlene came from Cavan too and that is why Daddy called me Arlene. It was his mammy’s name. She was in heaven. My other nanna, Mammy’s mammy, was in heaven too and I had the two names Mary Arlene on me for my nannas.
After Mammy said Daddy had me spoilt rotten, she told me to eat my bread and butter and to have less talk out of me. A good long while after that, she washed me in the tin basin in front of the fire and got me ready for bed. Upstairs she helped me say my prayers and told me to go to sleep, but I stayed awake under the blankets waiting to see if Daddy would come home. When I was nearly asleep, I heard the front door open and called down, “Daddy, Daddy.” He came upstairs to say goodnight and I told him about the class.
“Daddy, the nun’s funny name is hard to say and the other children will laugh if I don’t say it right.”
“Ach, it’s not a bother if you break it up.”
“You can’t break a name, only a plate or cup, Daddy.”
He laughed and tossed my hair on the top of my head. “Look at my fingers. Now we’ll say the first part with this finger – Egg. The second part with the second finger – Nay. And the last part with the last finger – Shush. It’s easy now – just three small names put together.”
We were laughing when Mammy called up the stairs, “William, that child has to get up for school tomorrow, let her sleep.”
Daddy whispered, “Sleep tight and don’t let the fleas bite.”
The next morning Daddy was sitting at the table eating his porridge, but he wasn’t talking. Mammy might have told him to have manners. I went to school with him on his bike and he was singing low a song about a girl called Eileen Óg and fish in the sea.
At school I was going to try to be seen but not heard so I could stay on the good side and become palsy-walsy with Loretta Fitzgerald, like Mammy wanted. When I saw the nun I said, “Sister Ignatius, may I sit where you told me to sit yesterday when you called my name from the list?”
She nodded her head and I hurried to the seat behind Loretta. She turned around to look at me and mouthed, “Monkey.” Before I could stop myself, I answered, “Curly bob.” Sr Ignatius saw me and told me to sit in front of Úna McNulty on the bad side. When the Home Babies filed in, Úna McNulty touched me on the shoulder and whispered, “Can you lean over a bit because your head is in the way and I can’t see the board.”
I looked back to nod and was able to see the Home Babies. Only one was as tall as me. It was
the girl that looked like a piece of string. She had butter-coloured hair like my Daddy’s. I thought it was a nicer colour than my black hair. Mammy had black hair too. Then I remembered she had told me to have nothing to do with the Home Babies, so I stopped looking at the long girl and the scrawny boy beside her.
When playtime came, Úna McNulty was behind me in the line. She asked me my name and I said, “The nun called me Mary Blake, but my Daddy calls me Arlene.”
“Why does she call you Mary Blake?”
“My Daddy said there’s four Marys in the class and the nun says the whole name and that way we know the Mary she wants.”
“The nun is stupid not to call you Arlene. She has enough Marys without you.”
“I know, I want Sister Ignatius to call me Arlene not Mary.”
“That stuck-up Fitzgerald one is Mary Loretta, but the nun only calls her Loretta.”
“She’s special.”
“I’ll call you Arlene if you promise to move to one side and let me see the board when the nun writes on it,” said Úna McNulty.
“I will.”
“Say ‘cross my heart and swear to die’.”
Úna then kissed the side of her finger and then placed the finger up on her chest and then made a cross in the same place. She said I had to do the same when I made a promise. I was doing it when Loretta and her friends came near us. They started calling Úna four eyes and bottle eyes, and then ran away laughing.
“Is there something wrong with your eyes?”
“I’m short-sighted.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. Only I didn’t see things in front of me in our house and bumped into them.”
“What things?”
“The stool or the edge of the door.”
“They’re easy to see.”
“For me they’re not, Smart Alec.”
Not being able to see a big thing like a stool surprised me but Úna didn’t see the numbers on the blackboard either so our eyes might be different. “I’m not a Smart Alec.”
“Alright, I won’t call you it again.”
“And the glasses?”
“Daddy took me to the dispensary.”
“What’s the dispensary?”
“A place you go to see the doctor.”
“Was the doctor Dr Kelly? He comes to my house.”
“I don’t know. He was the doctor,” Úna shrugged her shoulders. “Why does the doctor go to your house?”
“Cos he is my daddy’s friend. Why does your daddy take you to the dispensary and not your mammy?”
“Cos my mammy’s belly is big she can’t walk fast, so she stays in the house to mind the small ones.”
“My mammy is always sick in bed. Did you get the glasses in the dispensary?”
“We went to Galway.”
“Why did you go to Galway for them?” I asked in wonder.
“Cos we did. The doctor told Daddy I was short-sighted and gave him a ticket for the bus and a yellow ticket for the eyes doctor in Galway.
“And what happened?”
“The doctor made me look at pictures and tell him what they were, but I couldn’t see them right.”
“And he gave you the glasses?”
“He didn’t. It was Batt the postman who brought them in a brown envelope.”
“Batt the postman comes to our house too, but he doesn’t bring us glasses.”
We got back in the line together after the playtime. Then during the class, we sometimes smiled at each other.
That evening at tea Mammy asked me about Loretta. I told about the lovely velvet dress with the white ribbon at the waist that Loretta was wearing and the shiny black shoes. Mammy was happy. She told me the shoes were patent leather and promised for Christmas she could make me a velvet dress on her sewing machine.
School was lovely now because in the yard, me and Úna played together. I didn’t care Sister Ignatius was always calling Úna a dunce because she used to have her sums wrong.
One day Úna’s father came up to the school. He told Sr Ignatius his daughter was a smart girl. She just needed to be sitting in the front and be able to see the board so she could do her sums right. After that, Sr Ignatius put Úna sitting in beside me. Some days Sr Ignatius would bring my friend with the thick glass, wire spectacles up to the front of the class and ask her questions. Although Úna answered right, the nun would say, “Is that the right answer?”
Úna stuttered “Yes.”
But when the nun kept asking, “Are you sure?”
Úna would look confused and not reply.
“Answer me, you dunce.”
“I don’t know, Sister.”
“Are you telling us you know don’t the answer?”
Úna would nod her head.
“Where’s the smart girl your father told us about?” or “You could be sitting out in the yard for all the good it is doing you being able to see the blackboard.”
On account of the nun chastising me for being bold, me and Úna sat most of the time in the same desk in the front row on the bad side. When the bell rang for playtime, we stood up together and were in the line, one behind the other, on the way out to the yard. In the playground we played ‘Tick’ and other games Úna knew. The yard was divided into the good and bad side too, so we played near the toilets, while the girls Úna called ‘big-shots’ walked around near the windows and the door into the classroom.
One day we were playing hopscotch when Loretta and Regina Burke and the others came over to our side. They passed us, sucking a sweet, trying to griog us, so I said, “Stick your auld sweet up your nose, Curly Bob.” and pushed against them. Loretta was a right cry-baby and went bawling to Sr Ignatius. I stiffened as I heard the flapping of the long skirt as the nun flew out of the classroom because I knew it meant I would be chastised. Sr Ignatius caught me by the shoulder and dragged me over to Loretta to apologise.
I said, “I’m sorry.” with my head bent towards my shoulder, my lips pouted out, trying to look penitent. Penitent was the word Sister Ignatius used to tell us how we ought to feel when we made our First Confession. I kept the look on my face until the nun’s back was turned and then I mouthed mutely, ‘Tell tattler, tell tattler, buy a penny rattler, go home and tell your mother the crow bit your nose.’ Loretta went galloping back to Sr Ignatius. I put on my penitent face and said, “But Sister, I said sorry. I’ll say it again if you want, Sister?” but I wasn’t fooling the nun. She dragged me back to the classroom.
That day was the first of the many times the nun marched me back to the classroom and made me hold out my hands. She brought the ruler down hard – three sharp slaps on each hand. She pointed to my seat on the bad side. I sat down. She stood until I composed myself into the frightened child she wanted to see. Chin hitting my chest I sat still, biting my lips, pretending I was afraid to raise my eyes, until I heard the sounds her habit made when her legs pushed against the heavy material as she moved towards the door. Once she was in the playground, I shook my red-raw hands up and down and let the tears fall down my face before I wiped them away with the cuff of my cardigan.
That was the first day but not the last I was brought in during playtime. I started thinking how I would get my own back on the bold nun. If I found the hole Alice in Wonderland had dropped into, I’d get the cake and eat it and become big. Then I would go to the convent and step on Sister Ignatius’ toes and make her scream. Other times as I shook my hands to stop the pain, I’d imagine if I could drink from the bottle that made Alice small, I would run up the nun’s sleeve and bite her arm.
When the whistle blew and the charging feet slowed to a trot, then to a walk and the high, shouting voices dropped to a murmur, I knew the class was making a line and coming back in, I stopped thinking about all the things I could do to make Sr Ignatius sorry for hurting me.
When the class came in, Loretta was always at the head of the line, everyone else walking behind her. She’d look at me and smirk. My eyes were brimming w
ith tears that wanted to fall out and I was sitting on my hands because they were stinging but I didn’t want her to know that. I’d half look to see what the nun was doing. If she was leaning over some child giving out to them, I’d stick my tongue out at Loretta to show her she hadn’t bested me.
Loretta was a sneak, always tell-tale-tattling everything to the nun but I didn’t know she also told her uncle about me calling her Curly Bob. Her uncle, the bishop, was palsy-walsy with the Reverend Mother and she told Daddy I was bold.
“Arlene, what’s this about you at school?”
“Daddy, the nun said if I wasn’t a Garda Síochána’s daughter, I’d be in jail.”
“But, lass, what did you do to make her say that?”
“Nothing, Daddy, but that auld Loretta fell, and she told Sister Ignatius I pushed her, but I didn’t.”
“Arlene, you know you must be a good girl when you’re at school.”
“Daddy, I am good. It’s Loretta who’s the bold one. Anyway, I don’t mind going to jail. The barracks is ten times better than school and you can read me ‘The Little Match Girl’ from the book with the drawings.”
“Ach, we’ll read ‘The Little Match Girl’ tonight after tea, lass.”
I nodded my head. He picked me up and threw me in the air, but I didn’t fall to the ground. His hands were wide, and they caught me around the waist when I was coming down. I was screaming, not because I was frightened but because there was a big tickle of delight inside me and I needed to let it out. I stopped the giggly scream when Daddy said, “Arlene, people in jail only get bread and water and that wouldn’t keep a tall girl like you full. Promise you’ll behave yourself at school?”
My daddy was worried I’d end up in jail, so I said, “Alright, Daddy, I promise.” I kissed the side of my forefinger like Úna showed me and then brought it down on my chest and made a cross there too, saying, “Kiss my heart and swear to die.”
“You’re a great, wee lass, Arlene.”
Mammy was always in bed sick upstairs and Mrs McLoughlin came in to mind me. She told me when I was small and didn’t know how to sit up on my own, Daddy used to carry me around the kitchen in his arms and tell me the names of the different things. When Mammy got better and could come downstairs, she got vexed with him.
