by Irene Kelly
I had been hanging around the bottom of the stairs of our tenement building when I was approached by a couple of lads I knew, both around seventeen.
‘Matt! Matt!’ they called me over. They looked nervous and edgy. The bigger one spoke: ‘Matt, stand there and watch out for the police. We’re going up the stairs here to have a turn on.’
At the time, I didn’t really know what they meant by a ‘turn on’ but I guessed it had something to do with drugs – the way they were acting, it couldn’t have been anything else. I just did what they asked me and a few minutes later the big guy came down the stairs and told me I could join them. Curious, I followed him up to the first-floor corridor where his friend sat on the floor, leaning against the stone wall, eyes closed and a serene look on his face.
‘Matt, do you want some of this?’ The first guy waved a syringe filled with a light brown liquid in my direction. The lads in our area always treated me like I was one of them, even though I was much younger. It was because I had been out grafting for so many years already – I don’t think they even thought about my age.
‘Er, no, you’re alright,’ I said. I really wasn’t bothered about drugs. I had never even smoked a joint before, which were as common as fags in my area.
‘Ah, go on,’ he said, edging towards me. ‘I’ll give you a skin pop.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’ll lift your skin up and just do it in there instead of your vein so it’s slower. It’ll sort of creep up on you.’
I shrugged – I didn’t see any harm in it and I was curious to find out what it felt like so I agreed. ‘Alright then, do me a skin pop.’
So he lifted up the skin on my arm and pushed in a very small amount of the liquid from his syringe. Then he made himself a tourniquet with his belt and gave himself the rest into the vein on his inner arm. One after the other, just like that. Afterwards, he let out a really long sigh and leaned back against the stone wall with his eyes closed. I just got up and walked out of the block.
For a while I didn’t feel any different. But about ten minutes later, I was suddenly hit by a wave of nausea. Oh Christ! Saliva pooled in the bottom of my jaw, my stomach churned unpleasantly. I had to stop walking for a while to lean against a wall and then I felt a dragging sensation in my guts and I retched violently onto the pavement. The sour taste of bile filled my mouth and I spat, disgusted, into the gutter. What is this stupid drug? Why would anyone choose to make themselves sick like this? For a while, I stayed on that spot, leaning against the wall, breathing shakily. If I moved, I knew I was going to throw up again. I don’t know how long I was stood like that before it struck me that I didn’t feel so lousy any more. In fact, I felt really calm and relaxed. It was like a very nice floating feeling. And at that moment, I didn’t have any cares or anxiety. Oh, so this is why they do it!
A few weeks later, just after I turned thirteen, I went back to the bloke who gave me the skin pop and scored a £10 bag of heroin from him. I fancied getting high again. He showed me how to cook it up and inject it into my arm and after that I took it every day. For a while it was just £10 a time but it wasn’t long before it became £20, then £30 and £40 a day. Even in prison I took it daily, which meant I needed to keep robbing to fund my habit, locking me into the criminal world. By fourteen I was smoking and taking cannabis too, and was as much a hardened criminal as my father. He liked it that way – he wanted all his boys to become his little army of robbers and for a while I went along with that. I was one of his boys and, even at that young age, gangsters would approach me in pubs to ask them if I could get them guns.
At the age of sixteen I’d just got together with my first proper girlfriend when I was sent to borstal for a year. It was the hardest time I’d ever done. Normally, I was fine with being sent away because I was a ‘stand-up guy’. That’s what we called blokes like me who came from criminal families. I was a stand-up guy so I was okay – I got left alone. But this time I was in hell. She was free but I wasn’t, and it killed me worrying about what she was up to every night. Two months in, I heard she had started seeing another bloke and it wasn’t long before we split up.
After that, I tried not to get too attached – it had been torturous worrying about what my ex was up to while I was inside. So I decided it was better not to have a girlfriend at all. I didn’t mind – I had heroin instead and she was a demanding mistress, sucking up all my time, money and energy.
16
IRENE AND MATT
Falling in Love
IRENE
I didn’t see Matt again until two weeks later when he came to my door at around nine at night.
‘What’re you doing here?’ I was surprised to see him. ‘I thought you’d gone to London.’
‘Ah, well, I couldn’t handle it in London,’ he grinned. ‘Too hectic. D’ya mind if I come in?’
‘Are you going to have a cup of tea this time?’
‘You know I will.’
‘Well, in you come then!’ and I made a low mocking bow towards him, grinning. For some reason, when I bobbed up again, I caught his eyes, smiling at me, and I got a funny feeling. I couldn’t work out what it was – it was almost like he had some kind of special effect on me. We smoked and talked for the next few hours – the time just seemed to fly by. I learned that Matt came from a big family and that he was not long out of prison. He was staying with his uncle now that the Garda were looking for him. For some reason, I felt comfortable in Matt’s company. I knew I could talk to him and he wouldn’t judge me.
Suddenly he jumped up. ‘I’d better go,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ve got to be in for midnight.’
‘Who are you? Bloody Cinderella?’
‘No!’ he laughed. ‘It’s me uncle. He says I’ve got to be in for midnight every night.’
‘Well that’s ridiculous!’ I said. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-two,’ he replied sheepishly.
‘Right! You’re a grown man for God’s sake. I mean, what if you want to go out dancing or, say, if you meet a girl?’
‘Well I can’t do that right now, not while I’m at my uncle’s place. I’d love to stay, Irene, really I would, but I can’t take the piss. He’s doing me a big favour. Look, if you’re around tomorrow night I’ll come and see you then?’
‘Alright, that sounds like a good idea.’
From that day on, Matt was in my house all the time. We were very happy in each other’s company and the kids idolized him from the start. He was the kind of man that knelt down to speak to a child, so that they were looking at each other eye-to-eye, and really listened when they spoke. He didn’t patronize and he didn’t dismiss them. He respected children and they liked him for it. Of course, the neighbours all thought we were having an affair but it was nothing like that, we were just friends. I’d had a couple of boyfriends since leaving Paul but they had just annoyed me and I sent them packing early on. I suppose I didn’t trust men very easily now. But it wasn’t like that with Matt. I saw him as someone I could talk to and confide in – I didn’t want to ruin the friendship by starting a sexual relationship.
That Christmas he turned up with a load of alcohol for me and a bag of presents for the kids.
‘What did you go and do that for?’ I scolded, though underneath I was deeply touched. Nobody had ever surprised me like that – or been so kind.
‘I just got some bits for the kids,’ he said defensively. ‘It’s nuttin.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ I said and at that moment I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. I knew then that I loved Matt, that my feelings towards him were more than just friendship; I knew I wanted him in my life forever. Though he was seven years younger than me – I was twenty-nine to his twenty-two – he was more caring and mature than any other man I’d known. But still, I was afraid to tell him. I didn’t want to risk our friendship. It meant too much to me.
That night he went out and he met a girl – when he told me my heart sank but I accepted it. He was a young lad after all
– this girl was the same age as him and she didn’t have three kids and a crazy ex-husband in tow!
‘Just make sure you use protection,’ I warned him. ‘You don’t want to get a girl into trouble.’
I reasoned that as long as I could have his friendship, then that was enough for me, so after Christmas I invited him to move into my house. I knew that people would make their own assumptions about the nature of our relationship if he moved in, but I didn’t care. It was nobody else’s business and it was hardly like I had any reputation to lose any more. The way I figured it – with Matt in my house, he could have his independence and come and go as he pleased while me and the kids got to spend as much time with him as possible.
He was still seeing his new girl but I didn’t mind. We got closer every day. After I’d packed the kids off to school, I’d take him up a bowl of porridge and then I’d sit on his bed and we’d talk and talk. I told him all about my childhood, about my mother and being sent to the orphanage. There was a lot I couldn’t talk about – stuff I had never told anyone and felt I never could. The hurt went so deep it felt too dangerous, like the stuff the nuns and staff did to me and the kids in the nursery. I didn’t know how to even begin to tell him about those things – after all, when I tried to talk about it as a child, the adults all called me a liar. No, the pain of those years was buried and I was terrified of opening up to anybody. But with Matt, I was comfortable enough to give him an idea of the way my mother had treated me. He just listened quietly. For some reason, I could let my defences down with Matt, let him see the person I wanted to be, not the person I had to be.
I knew it couldn’t last. In March the police came knocking.
‘Open up!’ they shouted through the front door. ‘We’ve come for Matt Kelly. Come on – open up or we’ll have to break the door down.’
It was upsetting for the children, seeing Matt being taken out in handcuffs. Poor Anna was beside herself. She adored Matt – she followed him everywhere, never leaving his side for a moment, even sitting outside his room until he came out. With the boys, too, he was a role model.
‘You make sure you stay in school,’ he told them. ‘Get your education. Don’t end up like me. You’ve got your mother here – she loves you so make her proud.’
As he was led out of the house I told him, ‘You’ll never go without a visitor, Matt. I’ll visit every week.’ He was too important in my life – I couldn’t let him go.
Matt pleaded guilty to armed robbery and was sent down for seven years, which meant if he stayed out of trouble he could be out in three. I went to every court hearing and once he was sentenced, I kept to my word, visiting him in Mountjoy Prison at least once a week, sometimes more. I even did his washing and made sure he had clean shirts and trousers every week since inmates were allowed their own clothes. We always had good visits – it was hard to be inside an institution again but I knew what it was like to be locked up and I felt for Matt, losing his freedom like that, so I always made sure I was in a happy mood when I went there. We laughed and joked and the only hard bit was leaving him behind each time. Then, one day, his girlfriend came to see me with some terrible news.
The following day, I stormed into the prison. Straight away Matt could tell there was something up.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘It’s you!’ I exploded. ‘You’re thick!’
‘What?’
‘What did I tell you? You don’t listen to people, do you, Matt? I warned you over and over again to be very careful. Now you’re going to be a daddy!’
‘What?’
‘You’re going to be a daddy now!’
A shocked silence fell between us. Finally, Matt asked, ‘How come she’s not here to tell me herself? What can I do?’
‘What can you do? You’re in prison! I’ll do it. I’ll look after her and I’ll look after the baby till you get out.’
And I did. Because I loved Matt and I wanted him to be happy, I looked after his pregnant girlfriend, buying her clothes and a pram for the baby, and supporting her as best I could. When the little girl was born, she took her to see Matt in prison. Felicity was an adorable child and she looked just like her father – I tried to help as much as possible but as the baby came up to a year old, the mother came to my door with a fella I’d never seen before.
‘Matt’s not Felicity’s father,’ she said. ‘This man is.’
I couldn’t help laughing in her face.
‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ I said. ‘He couldn’t possibly be the father!’
‘He is – I was seeing them both.’
‘Rubbish! You didn’t have time.’
‘I did so – anyway, you can tell Matt I won’t be coming to visit him again.’
Matt took it very hard – after getting used to the idea of becoming a father he was determined to do right by his daughter. He’d confided in me that he didn’t want to live the life of a criminal any more, he wanted to turn over a new leaf, for the sake of Felicity. She would be his inspiration from now on. He would change, for her.
‘She’s still your little girl,’ I tried my best to reassure him. ‘That woman is a liar and you know it. She’ll always be yours and nothing she says will change that fact.’
It was over between him and the girl but he would always be Felicity’s father, no matter what, and maybe one day she would want to find him. A child needs both parents. I felt strongly about that – even with my own children, I had never stopped them seeing their father. In fact, I encouraged it – the children were never in any danger from him. Whatever happens between two parents, a child deserves the love of both and I thought it was selfish to deny the child access to their parent just because of how the other felt.
Months went by and, as Matt recovered, I realized that now he was single there was nothing standing in my way. If I didn’t say something, one day he would get out of prison and meet a new girl – then I would never be able to tell him how I really felt. And yet I was terrified that he would reject me. During one visit, I felt particularly sad about our situation. Why can’t I just tell him? Why do I insist on keeping this secret?
‘What’s up with you?’ he asked.
I didn’t want to lie any more – I was tired of pretending. So I just blurted it out without even thinking. ‘You do know I’m in love with you, don’t you, Matt?’
He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
So I hurried on. ‘I’m in love with you. I’m sorry but I can’t help my feelings. Look, I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t want to lose what we have. To me, this is a lifelong friendship, no matter who you are with. I’ll be there for you any time you need me.’
Matt was too stunned to react – so I changed the subject and resolved not to bring it up again. I just hoped this wouldn’t change things between us.
The following week I received an unexpected visitor. A man I vaguely recognized introduced himself as Leon – him and Matt had shared a cell for the last three years and he had got out two days earlier. He was here, he said, to deliver a leather jacket for Matt as he knew I brought him his clothes each week. Now that it was winter Matt would be needing a coat. But Leon also had a message: ‘Irene, Matt is in love with you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m telling you, Irene, the man loves you. I’ve spent nearly three years in prison with him. When he gets your letters or a visit from you, that’s it, he’s happy for the rest of the day. To be honest with you, we were all very jealous of him. There’s not many with your loyalty, Irene.’
But still I didn’t dare hope that he felt the same about me until our next visit, when he proved it. At first we just talked about the usual things, then I told him about his friend coming to see me but I didn’t mention what he said and he didn’t talk about my dramatic outpouring the week before. So I assumed that our friendship was carrying on, unchanged. But as I left to say goodbye, Matt got up – I was expecting our usual peck on the cheek but this time he
took my face in his hands and kissed me fully and passionately on the lips. It was amazing and it seemed to go on forever. But eventually, I pulled away and looked at him. I was confused and wary. Oh, don’t do this to me, Matt. Don’t wreck my head, don’t give me false hopes!
‘I think I’m falling in love with you,’ he said.
My heart soared! It was what I’d been dying to hear for so long. I walked out of that prison on cloud nine – I’d never been so happy my whole life.
Matt came out of prison just before Christmas and, that day, I was so nervous I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d never felt this way about anybody before. Normally I was so in control but this day I was a bundle of nerves. What do I do? What do I say? The next thing, he was in my kitchen. I’d never been so pleased to see someone in my whole life before and I couldn’t stop grinning.
‘D’ya want a cup of tea?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he smiled.
My hands were shaking as I went to put the kettle on. The next thing, I felt him coming up behind me and he turned me round to face him. I was thirty-one but I felt like a teenager as he put his lips on mine and kissed me. I melted into the kiss and it was so sweet, like coming home. When we went to bed, it was intense and overpowering. This was love, true love! For the first time I had found someone who truly loved me and I loved him back. With Matt, it felt natural, as if we were made for each other.
