Ma, I'm Gettin Meself a New Mammy

by Martha Long

  I shot aroun the iron bed wit the duster, an we banged the mattress on top an put the sheets on, then the black hairy blankets, an Matron said, ‘Now, Martha, I’m going to show yeh how to make up a bed properly. Here! Grab a hold of the sheet an blankets from the bottom, and lift the top. Now hold it up an put the end ones underneath, and now fold that under, and tuck it in all along the sides. Now stand back and take a look, it’s called an envelope! Taking the corners and tucking them in like that. That is how we were trained to make hospital beds.’

  ‘Did ye work in a hospital, Matron?’

  ‘Oh, indeed I did, child! I worked in Belgium during the Great World War. Yes! I went out in November 1915,’ she said, lowerin her voice an droppin her head, her eyes not seein this place any more, gettin lost in herself in a time long ago.

  ‘But, Matron,’ I shouted, wantin te know, havin so many questions all in a flash. But I just couldn’t get any words outa meself. I just stood, lookin at her wit me mouth wide open. Then she came back te me, liftin her face, an she laughed wit her eyes, standin back wit her chest thrown back an her hands on her hips studyin me studyin her. ‘But the bombs must a been flyin in all directions,’ was all I could get out, me head flyin at the idea she was a . . . hero!

  ‘Yes, I worked side by side with surgeons fighting to save a man’s life and cutting off limbs.’

  ‘No? Gawd!’ I breathed.

  ‘Yes! And more died than we could save . . . Oh, enough of that,’ she said, shakin her head te get rid a the memories. ‘You’re too young to be hearin what I saw and did, you’ll have your own troubles soon enough! Now come on! Let’s get this bloody room finished before I drop from me standing.’

  We trailed down the passage just as the bell went fer dinner. ‘Bloody hell! Come on, Martha! Hurry! Let’s go down the back way; I don’t want to meet all them bloody nuns, I see enough of them day and night.’ An she giggled an took off tryin te run on her black boots, draggin me behind her be me frock.

  I roared laughin at her, ‘Gawd! Ye’re gas, Matron Mona. I’m havin a better time wit you than I do wit the girls in me group! Ye’d think you were very young, because ye’re game fer anythin.’

  ‘Yeh can say that again,’ she laughed, grabbin me arm an gettin me up beside her.

  ‘How long are ye here, Matron?’ I whispered, hearin the nuns come outa their room an head off in the other direction as we headed down te the nuns’ sittin room. We clattered along, her hammerin the floorboards an makin them shake in her big boots. Then out te the passage an down the back stairs, an onta the old Victorian grey tiles.

  Matron opened the back door from the convent tha leads straight inta the concrete passage where our kitchen an refectory are. An loads of other rooms: the staffroom; an the little Holy Family room; an the pantry room; an the bread room, where all the bread is kept locked behind a cage. Otherwise we’d get our hands on it an eat the lot. An there’s the dairy, where the farmer brings in the buckets a milk wit thick yella cream sittin on top, covered wit muslin be Sister Mercy.

  ‘Well,’ Matron Mona puffed. ‘I came here many a few years ago now, after the war, looking for peace, for a rest,’ she huffed, outa breath. ‘I was only intending to stay a little while, but here I am . . . still here. Now, love, go and get your dinner, you’re a great little worker, and I’m delighted to have yeh up in the convent. We’ll have some great times together. Now go on,’ an she gave me a push. ‘Go and eat up everything they give yeh, you’re going to need it,’ she cackled.

  ‘Oh, go on, Matron! It’s not as bad as tha,’ I laughed.

  ‘No! You’re right! It’s worse,’ she laughed, bangin the door shut an disappearin.

  I turned aroun an headed up the passage, not wantin te be late fer me dinner. They might leave me nothin, the greedy fuckers!

  CHAPTER 8

  Idragged the metal basin wit the soapy water, landin it on the second-last stair, an slopped in the scrubbin brush, swirlin it aroun. Then rubbed the big bar a Sunlight soap through the brushes, sendin a shower a soapy water flyin at me face an hair. I wiped me stingin eyes wit the back a me hand, an rubbed the wet hair outa me face. It was all stuck, dried hard from the washin soap, an I was hot an tired an me bones ached like mad. Then I slapped the scrubbin brush down on the white heavy rubber coverin the stairs an started te scrub, tryin te get the black marks off from the nuns’ rubber-soled shoes. They’re filthy; I’m never goin te be able te keep these stairs clean!

  I scrubbed like mad, runnin me hand up an down, an the soap was makin me hands even more raw from all the dippin in an out a the carbolic soap an washin the place from top te bottom. I finished an dropped the brush back inta the cold dirty water an squeezed out the cloth, runnin it over the stair an dried it. Then standin meself up slowly, I stretched, tryin te get me back te straighten. I leaned meself back against the banisters, stoppin fer a minute te take a rest an look down the rest a the way. ‘Nearly there,’ I breathed te meself. Just tha last Victorian passage te scrub an tha’s it. Jaysus! At last I’ll be finished. I’ve been goin mornin, noon, night an day te get this convent finished fer them retreat nuns, an draggin meself outa here banjacksed. Gawd, I can’t wait te get stuck inta me tea, I’m starvin wit the hunger. Christ! It must be nearly tha time now! I better get a move on.

  I reached up an dragged the basin onta the tiled floor an dropped te me knees an started te scrub the last step. Right! Tha’s it, better get the bucket an clean water an get them grey tiles done, then tha will be it fer another week. I’ll only have me ordinary work te do from then on.

  ‘Hurry! The nuns are arriving! We need to have this chapel finished by lunchtime, and the retreat will be starting tonight at ten o’clock.’

  ‘I’m goin as fast as I can, Sister Benedict! Why won’t ye ask Sister Eleanor te send up someone to help me te polish, while I polish an dry it in wit the dryer-upper?’

  ‘She has nobody,’ she said. ‘Now stop arguing and get a move on, Martha Long! You are wasting valuable time.’

  I looked the length a the chapel, an me heart dropped, an me eyes settled on the benches all piled together, stacked one against the other. ‘Then ye better get someone in here te help push them benches back, Sister. I won’t be able to do it on me own.’

  ‘Oh, stop wittering and get a move on, or I’ll go and get the Reverend Mother in here immediately.’

  ‘OK! I’ll get movin,’ I said, feelin very tired after all me scrubbin an polishin until all hours at night.

  I reached down, liftin the wooden spoon an dug it inta the bucket a wax an flung it at the floor, grabbin the big heavy dryer-upper an pounded it over the polish, spreadin it up an down an workin me way from one side te the other. Then got the polishin one, diggin me feet inta the floor an heavin it over the wax dryin inta the floor. I pulled an pushed until it began te shine an the wax dried in, makin the floor come up in a shine lookin like glass. I dug in, flyin the heavy block up an down, faster an faster, bringin up such a massive shine I could nearly see me face in it. Halfway there!

  I grabbed the first bench an swung it aroun an went te the other side an did the same, gettin it down te the end where me floor was now lovely an shiny, ye really can see yer face in it!

  ‘Are you still not finished?’ aul Sister Benedict roared in a whisper, comin in an huffin up the chapel, swingin herself from side te side in her black Hush Puppy slippers.

  ‘Nearly!’ I puffed, pushin the last bench inta place an standin back te admire me lovely work.

  The chapel sparkled, an me floor glowed wit a red hue. ‘Now, Sister Benedict, did I do a good job?’ I said happily, feelin I’d never be able te stand straight again. But I was happy wit all me hard work.

  Sister Benedict said nothin fer a minute. I watched her walkin along the side a the benches an flyin her watery grey old tired eyes aroun, lookin te see if I missed anything or there was somethin outa place.

  ‘No! That’s grand,’ she said happily, lookin more at ease now an throwin herself back te lean
her hands on her hips, an let her head swing aroun wit more ease an take in the place. ‘Yes! You did a good job, Martha Long. Thank you very much. Now! Did you get your dinner?’

  ‘No, Sister. I wanted te get this finished. I hope they kept me somethin.’

  ‘Run along, child, you must be starving! You should never miss your meals. That is very bad for you at your age; you are still growing. If you want to live as long as me, then you should eat well, pray, get to bed early and be up with the lark, ready to do a hard day’s work.’

  ‘What age are ye, Sister Benedict?’

  ‘I am not telling you that! It is very impertinent to ask an older person what age they are.’

  I laughed, ‘Are ye nearly ninety, Sister?’

  ‘No! I have a few more years to go! Now be gone with you. I have work to do.’

  ‘Right, Sister, I’m off fer me dinner.’

  I took the convent stairs two at a time, admirin me lovely clean white rubber I scrubbed last night, an landed on the lovely grey tiles sparklin wit the polish. An the lovely clean smell went up me nose, makin me feel at peace wit meself. Feelin I had everythin in its place, an there was nothin botherin me.

  I whipped open the back convent door an rushed onta the grey concrete passage, headin inta the kitchen fer me dinner. I stopped suddenly at the sight a Sister Mercy stoppin te glare at me. ‘Eh, I’ve come fer me dinner, Sister Mercy.’

  ‘Did yeh get dat tea for the poor man yet?’

  ‘Wha poor man?’

  ‘The one sitting out in the hut for the last half hour!’

  ‘No! I didn’t know anythin abou tha.’

  ‘Well, go and make it now! You’ll find the tea canister and the mugs on the poor man’s tray dere!’

  ‘Where?’ I asked, spinnin me head aroun the kitchen, not seein it.

  She stamped over in her hobnailed big black boots an rattled the tray wit the dishcloth in her hand, roarin, ‘Open your eyes! We haven’t the time to be dancing attendance on you!’

  ‘Right!’ I said, makin a dive fer the tray. ‘But, eh, wha about me dinner, Sister? Did ye . . .’

  ‘Get a move on and make the tea! He’s not going to wait on your pleasure! The poor man’s out dere with his tongue dragging along the ground for the want of a drop.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, grabbin the big heavy kettle wit the steam pourin outa it an pourin it inta the teapot.

  ‘Put the tea in first, yeh amadan!’

  ‘OK,’ I said, lettin go a the kettle an splashin it down, burnin me hand.

  ‘Get outa me way,’ she roared, takin the little egg cup filled wit tea an sendin it flyin everywhere in her hurry te get it inta the little teapot. ‘Now take dis, and don’t come in here fustering around my kitchen again!’

  ‘Right, Sister Mercy.’

  I headed off up the long passage an out the top door, carryin the tray out te the grounds. The light blinded me, an I felt like a vampire seein the day fer the first time in years.

  ‘God bless ye, little one,’ an aul man wrapped in loads a jackets an coats wit a bit a twine wrapped aroun his waist te keep them together, an a pair a boots wit more twine tied aroun the soles te keep the top of them tha was tryin te stand up cos they were split at the toes, an ye could see his black feet wit the long black toenails stickin out, an the socks aroun them was in ribbons.

  ‘Eh, I wonder, little one, would ye err have a bit a bread te go wit the tea?’ He looked down at me, leanin his face inta me, an his teeth was black, an I stared at the long black hairs growin outa the top a his nose. The dirt was grained inta his forehead, an his face was covered in huge blackheads. The smell a him nearly knocked me out. But I couldn’t move meself back, because I knew it would only hurt him. The whites of his eyes was all bloodshot, an his faded grey eyes looked out at me wit terrible kindness in them, an he looked at me like I was the most important person in the world, an I was a lovely person altogether.

  ‘I . . . the nun in the kitchen is a bit mean,’ I said, thinkin. Knowin I wouldn’t be able te get him anythin.

  ‘I wouldn’t be askin ye, only I missed out on the bit a dinner up in Cabra. I had longer te walk today, ye see. I was far from me rounds over be Adam an Eve’s church down on the quays . . .’

  ‘I know it!’ I said, thinkin tha’s nearly beside where me an Charlie an the ma were born.

  ‘Well, ye’ll know then wha an awful aul long walk it is. Especially when ye’re in a hurry. So I carried on down here . . .’

  ‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘I’ll see if I can get ye somethin.’

  ‘Ah, God bless ye, I’m very grateful,’ he smiled happily.

  I raced down past the convent door, lookin at the retreat nuns all stoppin an laughin an talkin te each other, delighted te be meetin each other again. An flew aroun the back door an headed inta the nuns’ convent kitchen. I opened the door quietly an put me head in. No sound – good! I think Sister Thomas is gone. I raced through the scullery an inta the kitchen, an made straight fer the fridge. Two cooked chops sat in tinfoil – wonder who she’s keepin them fer? Me! I picked up a lump a cheddar cheese, then went te the bread press an took down a brown soda bread, it smelled lovely an fresh. Then grabbed another one. Two’s better than one when ye’re hungry! Then I saw somethin sittin on the side a the counter. Two fish done in breadcrumbs. Right! I’ll take them, an went back te the fridge an grabbed a block a butter sittin in greaseproof paper an looked through the press fer tinfoil.

  Fuck! Hurry, I hear someone. I grabbed the tinfoil, tearin a long bit, an threw everythin in together an flew like greased lightnin out the door, headin back te the hut.

  ‘Here! Don’t let them see ye wit tha,’ I puffed outa breath.

  ‘Oh, ye’re a God-sent angel! May God an his Mother make sure ye never go for the want of anythin for as long as ye live! God bless ye, child, an I hope ye have great luck.’

  ‘Thanks, Mister! I better run!’ An I took off thinkin, ye should have tha, not them bleedin fats nuns, they have more than enough, an I know better than anyone wha it’s like te go hungry. God help tha poor man, he looks like he’s on his last days.

  I tore back inta the kitchen; the sight an smell a the grub I just robbed made me really hungry fer me dinner. The hunger is makin a hole in me belly; I wonder if the aul fucker kept me somethin te eat.

  ‘Your dinner is in the oven,’ she roared as I put me head back in the door.

  I grabbed the dishcloth from the steel bar over the Aga an took out the hot plate, whippin off the metal dish cover. Lovely! Roast meat an two sausages, an carrots an mashed potatoes in gravy. The smell went up me nose an the steam covered me face. I headed outa the kitchen holdin onta me hot plate wit the dishcloth, an was just on the passage when I heard a roar.

  ‘Come back here, Martha Long!’

  I turned, headin back inta the kitchen.

  ‘Yeh better scrub dat passage after tea this evening. It has not been done in weeks!’ she roared, starin at me.

  ‘Wha passage, Sister Mercy?’

  ‘The long kitchen passage,’ she roared, pointin te where I stood.

  ‘But!’

  ‘No buts! Dat’s part of your work. Now I want it scrubbed from top to bottom dis very evening, and yeh have to do it at the same time every Friday.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, lookin miserably at the length a the passage.

  I finished me dinner an started te rinse the plate under the hot tap when Sister Eleanor came flyin in. ‘Oh, really and truly, this refectory is disgusting! Look at those plates still sitting in the sink,’ she said, making a grab te take them out an pile them on the draining board. ‘Oh, listen, darling, will you ever take charge of this refectory after the dinner? Wash the dishes and wipe down the tables and sweep the floor, there’s no one to do it. Will you do that for me, pet?’ she said, lookin inta me eyes an pleadin wit me, lookin lost.

  ‘OK, Sister,’ I whispered, wonderin if I have the time after me dinner. I have te run over te the convent kitchen an work over there.


  ‘Oh, thank you, darling! That will be a great help to me,’ then she vanished out the door.

  ‘I better get a move on,’ I muttered, lookin aroun the room.

  CHAPTER 9

  The nuns helpin te clear the convent refectory table came ramblin inta the kitchen one be one an left their plates on the drainin board fer me te wash.

  ‘Oh, you’re a wonderful worker!’ gushed the nun in charge of doin the rounds helpin the poor in their own homes.

  ‘What’s that, Sister, you’re saying?’

  ‘I was just saying what a great girl Martha is! She’s always on the go!’

  ‘Oh, yes! Indeed we would be lost without her,’ roared the aul head nun from the school, Sister Ursula.

  I looked at her examinin her plate te see if she had cleaned it enough. It looked like she had licked it clean, but she found somethin te stick on her tongue, an moved her teeth an tongue wit her mouth flyin up an down tryin te find it, then she gave the plate one last look before landin it down beside me, not really takin a blind bit a notice of wha the nun was sayin te her.

  ‘Oh, yes indeed she is,’ she said, tryin te bring herself outa her trance, her eyes crossin, an looked up, stretchin her face te see better at the nun talkin. ‘Eh! Oh, yes,’ an her head flew aroun landin on me, sayin, ‘Oh, yes, our Martha is a Trojan worker. She was the same with me at school, is that not right, my dear?’ she said, restin her hand on me back as if she thought I was the greatest thing since sliced pan.

  I said nothin an just carried on wit me washin up. Tha aul one has a short memory! She made it her business every mornin te roar her head at me, sayin, ‘I hope you have your homework done, Long!’

  Course I hadn’t! I didn’t know wha I was supposed te be doin. Anyway, I’m glad te be away from her; she hated the sight a me. Any trouble goin an of course it was my bleedin fault! Ah, she never bothered me, because I don’t even like the woman.