by Martha Long
‘Are yeh all right, Mammy?’ said the uncle, coming in laughing and taking the granny’s waist, letting her lean on him.
I followed the crowd inta a lovely big dining room with a long table covered in a heavy white embroidered tablecloth, with a glittering vase made of Waterford crystal sitting in the middle filled with flowers, and silver knives and forks and white linen napkins. I held me breath, letting it out in a gasp! My gawd! I never saw anything look so lovely, I thought, looking around at the mahogany sideboard with the wood shining from the lamps lighting on the wall overhead, and it’s heaving with the amount of stuff sitting on top. Bowls of fruit, tins of biscuits, sweets, bowls a yellow trifle! Oh, I don’t like that, nor custard, yuk! Makes me sick. But there’s plenty more te eat.
The granny sat herself down, saying, ‘You sit over dere, Grandad, opposite me, and put Joseph one side, and, Seamus, you sit next to yure daddy.’
We all sat down with Thelma sitting next te me, and the daddy came rushing in carrying two plates, saying, ‘Come an give a hand to yure mammy, Thelma,’ who was planting a Christmas hat on my head.
‘Here, Granny! Let me put your hat on!’ Joseph said, jumping up and racing around the table.
The granny sat still, her eyes crossing with too much a the drink taken and waited patiently for Joseph fixing the hat on her head. ‘Now, Granny! Ye’re ready for the Christmas party!’ shouted Joseph, rushing off with his own hat on and sitting himself down just as the grandad muttered, ‘Begad! She’s well ahead a the rest of us with the party! Look at the state a yure mother, son!’
The uncle looked over, grinning like mad as the granny stared at the two of them, shouting, ‘Yeh have some cheek on yeh, Paidir Murphy! An you dhree . . . three shifts . . . shits . . . sheets to the wind last night!’
The roars of laughing coming out a them, and even Joseph joined in, not really knowing what they were laughing at, because he wasn’t minding what the granny was saying.
‘Your dinner, Martha!’ Thelma puffed, landing a big plate of dinner down in front of me and the other one in front of the uncle.
‘Mine! Where’s mine?’ shouted Joseph, swinging his head around te the door, getting impatient and looking back te see what we got.
I looked at me plate a roast potatoes and mash and white goose meat and Brussels sprouts, that looked buttery and soft. I don’t like Sister Mercy’s. Hers are like stones and taste like piss. I have carrots and cauliflower, with gravy poured over the lot, and the steam rising outa the dinner, the plate is hot. Oooh! This is heaven.
I tasted the meat and the mash with a bit of roast potato, and it slid down me neck before I could really get te taste it. Jaysus! I never tasted anything like this in me whole life! People really do have a great time at Christmas! I dug inta the grub like there was no tomorrow, cleaning the plate and looking around the table, watching everyone take their time, still only half finished, drinking and talking and eating.
I sat wondering what we were going te get next. ‘Would you like more?’ the mammy asked, looking down at me seeing me empty plate.
‘Eh . . .’ I was afraid te say yes, in case they thought I was a glutton.
‘Daddy! Jump up and carve the child another bit of meat, and there’s more potatoes keeping warm in the oven.’
He leapt te his feet, grabbing my plate, anxious te get back te his eating and drinking. ‘Now, get that down yeh,’ he said, landing another dinner in fronta me and opening another bottle a wine.
‘Gish a drop more a dash!’ said the granny, waving her glass, with the hat hanging over her eye.
Thelma and me looked at each other and burst out laughing. And Joseph roared laughing at us, not knowing what the laugh was about. That made me laugh louder, because he laughs not wanting te be left out.
‘What’s tickled yeh, girls?’ laughed the daddy.
Thelma pointed te the granny holding her left arm in the air, letting her wrist flop and trying te find her mouth te the glass and missing, nearly landing her head in the dinner plate. Everyone watched, roaring their heads off laughing. ‘She gets plastered every year,’ whispered Thelma, bending over te me an saying, ‘but she always swears she doesn’t drink!’
I dug inta me second dinner, and it was even nicer than the first. I finally put down me knife and fork, leaving a clean plate, feeling me belly full at last. Gawd! Ye’d sure know it was Christmas with a dinner like that. I smacked me lips, looking around at everyone, and they were all beginning te look dozy!
‘Would yeh like me teh bring in the pudding, Mammy?’ the daddy asked, throwing down his napkin, saying, ‘Begad! Dat was a good dinner! Yeh can’t beat the mammy’s cooking. Isn’t dat right, everyone?’ he said, looking serious at everyone and shaking his head in wonder, giving a big belch and punching his stomach. ‘Begad, it was an all,’ he said, heading for the kitchen.
The mammy sat looking at everyone around the table with a smile on her face, feeling very contented in herself.
‘Fire!’ shouted the daddy, rushing in with a dark-brown Christmas pudding with blue flames coming outa it and landing it on the table, then grabbing the whiskey bottle and pouring whiskey over it and setting fire te it! The pudding went up in blue flames.
‘That’s the whiskey!’ Thelma laughed te me, seeing me eyes hanging outa me head.
I never saw the like of that before. ‘No, thanks, I’m grand,’ I said, refusing the pudding.
‘It’s Granny’s home-made recipe dat’s been in the family for years! Go on, try a little,’ said the daddy, pushing the plate at me, ‘and have some brandy butter.’
‘OK,’ I said, not wanting te be a nuisance. I tasted a little bit with a bit a brandy butter, and it’s gorgeous! I don’t like currants, but this is heaven.
I had the lot polished off and was waiting for more. But the last of it went te Granny, who was snoring, and the mammy shook her, shouting, ‘Wake up, Granny! It’s your favourite part of the meal. The Christmas pudding!’ she shouted.
‘The what? Me pudding, did yeh say?’ Her eyes flew open, trying te land on the pudding, then clapped on the big dollop of brandy butter getting slapped on.
‘If she doesn’t eat that,’ I whispered te Thelma, ‘grab it quick and pass it down te me.’
‘Ha, ha! No chance in hell of getting your paws on Granny’s pudding. I think it’s the brandy butter she likes.’
‘Yeah! Me, too,’ I said, keeping me eyes peeled on the pudding.
She took her time but managed te clean the plate, and I was left wanting something else te eat. ‘Oh, Daddy!’ said the mammy. ‘Bring in the mince pies. I have them warming on a low heat.’
‘Right, Mammy,’ said Daddy, stirring himself, looking redeyed and sleepy. ‘Do anyone else want dem mince pies sitting in the oven?’
‘I do!’ I roared up.
‘Not at all! God bless us all, we will all burst!’ moaned the grandad.
Me heart sank! I was planning te put some of that brandy butter stuff on them, I thought, looking up hopefully at the daddy.
‘Right so! They don’t want dem,’ said the daddy, sitting himself down.
‘Thelma!’ I whispered, giving her a nudge.
‘What! What’s wrong?’ she asked, looking at me.
‘Tell yer daddy I want a few mince pies.’
‘Daddy! Bring a few mince pies for Martha.’
Everyone looked at me, and the daddy looked shocked. ‘Yeh mean yeh still have room in yure belly for more?’ he shouted down, laughing at me.
I could feel meself going red-hot in the face, but I wanted te get me teeth inta more cakes. ‘Yes, please!’ I said, laughing.
‘Begad! Yeh must have a hollow leg,’ he said, getting himself te his feet, looking at me, saying, ‘I don’t know where else yeh put it, because dere’s not a pick on yeh!’
Everyone laughed, and the mammy said, ‘Let her alone. Good girl, Martha. Eat up! Sure you’re growing at a great rate, and it’s a compliment to me to see you eating all around you.’
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They started te clear the table and clear around me, while I sat, lathering on the brandy butter, having a party all te meself. ‘I’ll help as soon as I’m finished this,’ I said, trying te get it down me fast, helping meself te more brandy butter. I was feeling light in me head and heat in me belly and wondering if I was getting drunk on the brandy butter. Gawd! I won’t forget this meal in a hurry, I thought, putting down the spoon on the plate, barely stopping meself from licking the last of the brandy butter and pudding streaking the plate. And te think I nearly deprived meself of all that! Hm! Lovely.
I stood up, making for the kitchen, seeing the men doing the washing up and Thelma and the grandad putting the dishes away. ‘What would ye like me te do?’ I whispered te Thelma.
‘Nothing! You go and brush your teeth or something, or talk to Granny in the front room,’ she laughed.
‘Really?’
‘No! I’m only joking, she’s probably asleep!’
‘Right! See ye later,’ I said, flying upstairs te brush me teeth and wash me face and comb me hair. It’s lovely and shiny; that must be the shampoo they have here. We use carbolic soap in the convent.
I bounced onta me bed, lying down for a minute, enjoying the luxury of having nothing te do and having a full belly. We would never get a full belly in the convent. There’s too many people wanting more! And there’s never more, unless ye’re going out te work or something, and sitting on the big ones’ table.
I woke up, looking around me. What happened? The light has gone; it must be evening. Jaysus! I must have conked out. I leapt outa the bed, taking meself off downstairs, wondering what they will think of me. Eating their grub then doing a vanishing act. I wonder what’s for tea? I’m hungry again. I heard noise coming from the front room and opened the door.
‘Here she is!’ roared Thelma, looking around and smiling at me.
‘Did yeh sleep off the big dinner?’ laughed the daddy, sitting in the armchair by the fire.
‘Come on!’ shouted the granny, sitting in the other armchair by the fire with a table in front of her, playing a board game. ‘Yeh’re just in time teh see me squeeze the last penny outa dis lot,’ she said, pointing te the game board and holding up cards and a load of play money.
‘No, Granny, I’m not out yet,’ shouted Joseph, making a grab for money outa a box.
‘No yeh don’t!’ said the uncle, grabbing the money off him.
‘I’m allowed! I can do that! I can borrow money from the bank!’ roared Joseph.
‘No you can’t!’ shouted Thelma. ‘You’ve already lost all your houses to the bank. You have nothing left to mortgage!’
‘No! Daddy! Tell them to stop cheating,’ screamed Joseph, nearly losing his mind.
‘Ah, begad! Yeh’re now in the same boat as yure poor aul father,’ laughed the daddy, shaking his head. ‘The banks will give yeh nothing for nothing!’
‘Come on! Hand over yure cards,’ said the granny. ‘I own dem houses now yeh have dere.’
‘But they have mortgages on them!’ screamed Joseph. ‘They belong to the bank.’
‘Not if I pay off the mortgages,’ cackled the granny, taking all of Joseph’s cards, rattling her false teeth up and down, laughing like a hyena. ‘Come on! Who’s next? Now just remember teh land on dis one,’ she said, stabbing her finger on the board. ‘I’m always very delighted teh see the lot of yeh! Dis is the best road in Ireland, Ailesbury Road, and I even have me hotel on top! So anyone dropping in teh see me will end up not even standing in the knickers dey’re wearing! Because with the cost of dis place, I’ll take every penny off yeh. I’ll skin yeh alive, and yeh may make yure own way home, walking in yure pelt!’ she screamed, laughing like a hyena.
‘Begad! Don’t say yeh’re related teh me! I don’t know yeh if the policeman comes knocking on my door,’ roared the daddy, laughing his head off.
‘No, it’s not,’ shouted Thelma. ‘I have the best road; Shrewsbury Road is the poshest and most expensive road in Ireland, and I have it, look!’
‘Yes! But a lot of good dat will do yeh; sure, it’s empty! Yeh haven’t even got a house on it, never mind a hotel like me,’ the granny laughed, dropping her head down te admire her hotel, then her eyes peeled around the board, taking in what everyone else owned.
‘I’m not playing!’ screamed Joseph, starting te cry his heart out. ‘Daddy! They cheated me!’ he screamed, landing himself on the daddy’s lap with a thump.
‘Ouf!’ moaned the daddy, lifting him outa the way while he grabbed himself between his knees, going red in the face. ‘Ah, son! I think yeh may have damaged me for life,’ he puffed. ‘God! Take it easy.’
‘Mammy!’ screamed Joseph, flying out the door, screaming like a banshee, sobbing his heart out, holding his head like he’d been killed, roaring, ‘They’re all very mean teh me, and Granny robbed all me houses.’
‘What’s this game called?’ I asked, dropping meself down on the floor next te Thelma.
‘Monopoly!’
‘How do ye play it?’
‘Easy! You just . . .’
‘Easy, she says!’ said the granny, muttering as she counted up all her money.
‘OK! We’ll play a new game,’ said Thelma, collecting up her houses and money and trying te put it back in the box quickly.
‘Not on yure Aunt Biddy!’ roared the granny. ‘Yeh have teh wait until I’m finished winning dis game!’
‘Ah, I don’t mind waiting,’ I said, getting nervous of the granny’s dirty looks at the two of us.
‘No! I’m fed up playing this game; let’s start a new game!’ shouted Thelma.
‘Yeh can, but it will cost yeh,’ said the granny, eyeing her.
‘OK! There’s all my money.’
‘Yeh can keep that. I want real money. Yeh owe me ten bob if yeh want teh get out early.’
‘What? We’re not playing for real money.’
‘No! But it’s called a penalty clause!’
‘You’re talking rubbish, Granny!’ screamed Thelma, getting red in the face.
‘No! If yeh’re intent of depriving me of me winnings, then cough up!’
‘Where does it say that in the rules, Uncle Seamus?’
‘Ah, yeh don’t play with Granny without getting yerself scalped,’ laughed the uncle.
‘Oh, by all dat’s true and holy,’ the daddy agreed, nodding his head up and down like mad. ‘Many’s the man at home found dat to his cost. Begad! She’s a fierce woman for the poker! Or any card game for dat matter.’
‘Pay up!’ said the granny, holding up her hand, looking very serious and giving me a look much as te say, ye’re next!
‘Ah, I don’t know how te play,’ I said, losing me nerve, not wanting te get meself skint. But still and all wanting te have a go. I never played any games like this before. Or any games for that matter.
‘Teatime!’ shouted the mammy, putting her head in the door and laughing at everyone shouting and fighting.
‘Thank God!’ mumbled the daddy. ‘Dat will shut the lot of dem up for a while.’
The mammy poured out the tea and I sat meself down te help meself te a plate of sandwiches. ‘Yum! These are lovely and tasty, Thelma.’
‘What’s in them?’ she said, opening the bread te get a look.
‘What’s going on out dere?’ the daddy said, looking out the kitchen window, hearing the dog roaring his head off. He opened the kitchen door and we could hear people’s voices shouting, and it sounded like a baby crying. ‘Are yeh all right?’ he said, going out the kitchen door.
‘What’s happening?’ said the mammy, following him.
We all jumped up and ran out the door, me following Thelma.
‘We have a problem,’ said a man looking over the wall from the next-door garden. ‘Jasper is trapped up your tree.’
We all looked up, seeing a white cat sitting on a branch high up in the tree.
‘That’s very high up, isn’t it, Thelma?’
‘Yeah, it must be about f
orty feet.’
‘How did he get up there?’ said the mammy, holding a dishcloth, looking up very worried.
‘Can you get a ladder and get up and get him down?’ said an aul one with glasses on her nose and thin white hair, pointing her walking stick at the daddy, then up at the tree, sounding very snotty and staring at him, waiting for him te jump up and do her bidding. ‘And stop that nasty dog from frightening my Jasper!’ she shouted, waving her stick at the dog. ‘He caused all this, you know!’
Scrapper was slipping and sliding, flying around the tree, going demented, looking for a way te get at the cat. ‘Get in!’ the daddy said, making a run at Scrapper, who tore up the garden then came flying back, headbutting the tree and knocking himself out.
‘Well, can you get him down?’ said the skinny man with the thin fair hair and the thick glasses, wearing a brown V-neck jersey with yellow bars on it. The kind grandads wear, not aul fellas like him in their forties.
‘No! I can’t do dat,’ said the daddy, shaking his head, looking up at the cat. ‘It’s far too dangerous. But I would be willing teh lend yeh a ladder and yeh can have a go yerself. But I wouldn’t advise it!’
‘Don’t you dare step up on that ladder, Frederick! I will not have it!’ screamed the aul one. ‘You might fall and hurt yourself.’
‘So it’s OK if I climb a ladder and break my neck! Is dat what yeh’re saying, Mrs O’Brien?’
‘Your dog is responsible for terrifying my Jasper in the first place and driving the poor boy up that tree. He lives in terror of that thing; it’s totally out of control,’ she roared, whipping her head te the dog, snorting at it, then folding her hands and leaning on her stick, looking mournfully up at the cat.
‘Well! If dat’s the case,’ said the daddy, ‘yeh can go and . . .’
‘Maybe I should have a go,’ said the skinny man, throwing his leg over the wall.
‘Don’t you dare go near that tree, Jonathan! If you fall and break your neck, who is going to take care of me?’ she screamed, giving him a whack of the stick on the leg. He whipped it back quickly, rubbing it like mad. ‘I am an invalid,’ she barked at the daddy, ‘and Jasper and I are devoted to each other. Now! It is your garden and your tree my poor Jasper is trapped in. What’s wrong with you? Surely you are capable of getting on a ladder and lifting my poor Jasper to safety? A fine strong man like you,’ she trailed off, while the daddy and the rest of us all stood looking up the tree, listening te the silence, with the stars shining and the frost on the grass, and the dog staggering over te lie on the grass beside the mammy, not knowing what hit him.
