by Martha Long
I felt sorry for the poor Miss, standing there wringing her hands, not knowing what te say or do. It’s not her fault, I felt like saying, feeling very annoyed with the nuns and very sorry for meself, and feeling sick with the bloody pain. But I decided it would be best te keep me mouth shut. I might do more harm than good. I smiled up at Miss, saying, ‘Ah, don’t worry, Miss, sure it’s not your fault.’
She nodded te me, looking very worried, but saying nothing either.
‘Nurse! Take this child down to X-ray.’
‘Right, doctor. What’s your name, pet?’ the blonde nurse said, smiling at me, taking me arm and bringing me along a corridor and inta a big room with machines all over the place. ‘Now, love! Just try to keep your fingers out like that,’ she said, picking me fingers out one by one and stretching them.
‘No, no! I can’t,’ I said, staring at me hand, like a big claw, trying te keep me fingers from curling inta a fist again.
‘I won’t be long,’ she shouted, leaving me hand on a table underneath a big machine, while she ran te another one, shouting, ‘Good girl, just one more, we won’t be a second, hold it!’
‘No! Sorry, aaah! Me hand!’ I cried, lifting me hand and crying with the pain. I felt worn out and couldn’t take any more of it.
‘Aaah! We’ll have to leave it. I won’t be able to do any more with it. It’s too badly swollen’, she said, lifting me hand and taking me outa the room. ‘I got enough for the doctor to look at. You were wonderful,’ she said te me, stroking me back and handing me over te the nurse waiting outside the door. ‘It’s too badly bruised and swollen,’ she said te the nurse. ‘Hang on and I’ll get you the X-rays,’ and she was gone, then back in a minute, handing over the X-rays, and we made our way back te the clinic.
The doctor put them up on the wall and switched on a light and examined them, saying, ‘Yes, she has chipped a piece of bone at the top of the finger close to the knuckle. There’s nothing we can do now,’ he said, shaking his head, holding the X-ray in his hand. ‘It should, as I have said, be put into plaster of Paris. But now all we can do is put it in a splint and give support, using a sling around her neck. You are going to be in pain for quite a while until it starts to heal,’ he said, looking down at me.
I shook me head, feeling sick from the pain. All I wanted te do was lie down and get a good sleep and have no pain.
We left the hospital and stood at the bus stop waiting for a bus te come. I looked down at me hand, completely covered in a white bandage with a splint underneath te keep the fingers together. And kept me arm still, wrapped inside a white sling. It had been agony when the nurse was trying te put the splint on, and the doctor gave me a tablet for the pain. But it wasn’t doing me any good. At least I have it wrapped now, and if I keep it very still the pain only whines, not screams.
‘Stand back from the edge,’ Miss said, pulling the sleeves of me green school coat and pointing at the running water flowing along the side of the road, with sweet papers and rubbish all getting carried along rushing for a shore that wasn’t blocked. I stood back, staring down the road inta the distance, seeing no sign of the bus. The cold wind and damp was running up me legs, making the hem of me coat whip around me, cutting the legs off me.
‘Brrr!’ Miss shivered, dropping her neck inside her coat and tying the scarf around her head and clapping her feet together. ‘That wind would cut you in two,’ she said, looking frostbitten, her nose drippin with snots.
‘Yeah,’ I mumbled hoarsely, looking around at the canvas shade hanging over the vegetables sitting in their boxes on the table outside the shop across the road from us. The wind is so vicious, it was threatening te lift the poles clean outa the wall and tear the canvas cover te shreds. I watched as it yanked and pulled, making the canvas lift and slap back down again.
A woman wearing a scarf and a hat on her head, holding tight te her shopping bag on her arm, and her purse held tight between her two hands, stopped te get a look at the vegetables, then thought better of it when the canvas gave an almighty bang and the pole came swinging outa the wall. She jumped back with the shock, looking up at it, shaking her head and probably wondering why she hadn’t been killed. Then she moved herself off slowly, giving a last look back, and took off down the road.
The owner came out wearing a long dirty blue apron and looked after her, rushing herself down the road, nearly tripping over her long black coat that was miles too big for her. Then swung his head up at his shade, looking like he was thinking it was all the woman’s fault. I wanted te laugh, but there was no laugh in me, I just thought about it, feeling the pain going all around me as if it wasn’t just me hand.
Then I peeled me eyes on a man struggling like his life depended on it. I watched until the man came puffing past us on his bicycle, pedalling away like mad for all he was worth, but going nowhere in a hurry. He had his head down and his legs pumping like pistons on the pedals, determined he was going te get where he wanted te go on the bike, even if it killed him. We could hear him snorting and breathing, pressing his knees down for all he was worth, then giving a look up te see how far he got, but he was being blown backwards. The storm was too strong te best, and he finally gave up and threw his leg over the bar and landed himself on the footpath, lifting the bike and slamming it down again, muttering, ‘The curse a Jaysus on tha wind,’ looking back at the Miss. She smiled and squinted, and he put his head inta the wind again and took off pushing the bike, keeping his head down, his long brown gabardine coat flapping out behind him.
‘Did you ever see anything like this storm?’ said the Miss, looking shocked at the idea anything could be so bad. ‘Where’s that bus?’ she said, trying te see over me head. But she was too small, and jumped out, leaning te one side te see if there was anything that looked like a bus coming in our direction.
There wasn’t a sinner te be seen on the streets. Only the sight of a mangy aul dog chasing and barking its head off, trying te catch a paper bag flying through the air. When it landed, he dived on it, stamping his paw down over the greaseproof paper for wrapping bread and nosed out a half-eaten sandwich, wolfing it down, getting the lot inta his mouth and heaving his neck up and down trying te swallow it in one go. He finished that, lifting his paw and letting the paper take off in the wind again, and moseyed over te sniff under the vegetable table, then stopped te lift his leg and piss on the bag of potatoes sitting at the leg of the table. Satisfied he was done, he cocked his two back legs one at a time, giving them a good shake te get rid of the piss, and took off again, lifting his head and sniffing the wind, hoping for another good landing of grub. The canvas was left hanging from one pole, swinging around te slap itself against the brick wall and back again, knocking the onions outa the box and rolling them onta the road. The man had given up and rushed himself back inside, deciding the weather was too treacherous te have a go at trying te fix it.
CHAPTER 22
‘Well, back at last,’ said Miss, opening the back door and rushing in. ‘Oh, brrr! Am I glad to be in out of that!’ she said, rubbing her hands and opening the staffroom door te see if there was anyone in there. ‘We’ll go and find Sister, tell her we are back and let her know what the hospital said. Then I can go and have a nice pot of tea to warm myself. Come on. She may be around the house.’
I followed her up the passage and we bumped inta Sister Eleanor coming off the convent landing on the way down the stairs. ‘You are back, Miss. How did the child get on?’ she said, looking at me bandaged arm.
‘She has a fracture, Sister, a chip of bone broke off,’ she said, taking me arm te show Sister Eleanor.
‘Oh, I knew as soon as I saw it this morning, you poor creature.’
‘Yes, it will be six weeks at least before she can take that off. That’s how long it is going to take for the bone to heal. The doctor said a chip is worse than a break.’
‘Oh no! Does that mean you will not be able to work in the convent?’ Sister Eleanor moaned, looking at me, her face turning red with the a
nnoyance of what this means, and putting her hand te her mouth. ‘What are we going to do about the convent?’ she said, getting very distracted and moving off, muttering te herself.
‘Right so, Sister. I’ll be off now and get a hot cup of tea for myself,’ said Miss, taking off down the corridor.
‘Oh, thank you, Miss,’ Sister Eleanor said, changing her mind about wandering inta the cloakroom and making off down the passage behind the Miss.
I watched them go, wondering what I was supposed te do. ‘What about the pain in me arm?’ I muttered te meself, knowing I was talking te the fresh air and that was the end of that. I can do what I like; she has no time for me now I can’t work. Fucker! I hate nuns! I hate this place. I wandered up the passage feeling cold and tired and sick and in pain, but I didn’t know what I wanted or what anyone could do. I opened the door inta the playroom and looked in seeing the emptiness, feeling the cold. It’s never warm in here. That aul storage heater isn’t worth a curse. We sit up on top of it te get the heat, and she comes in and roars at us te get off. I sat meself down in the armchair and waited, looking around at the wooden partition in the middle of the room and Sister Eleanor’s floor-to-ceiling old pitch-pine press that she keeps all her sweets in.
The time passed and nothing happened. I just sat feeling the nausea in me chest and the pain throbbing in me arm, feeling cold and stiff and not thinking and not expecting anything, just waiting for the time te pass, then something will change. But I can do nothing about anything, just sit and wait and feel the pain and me senses completely numb. Then I had a thought, something good I can do for meself. Tell Sister Eleanor I am not sleeping in the nursery any more. I am going back up te me own dormitory and sleeping in me own bed, and she can find someone else te mind the babies at night.
I heard footsteps outside and the door opened. I lifted me head, seeing the Reverend Mother coming in the door. ‘What is this?’ she said, looking very annoyed and marching over te take in me arm all bandaged and in a white sling. I could smell the disinfectant off the bandage when I moved me arm, reminding me of the hospital. I lifted meself outa the armchair slowly and stood on me feet. Ye have te stand up when she’s speaking te ye.
‘You can’t use that arm?’ she barked at me, looking shocked and pointing te me arm.
‘No, Mother, it’s fractured.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘I fell against the wall in the kitchen passage when I was mopping up the flooding last night.’
‘Oh, really! This is too much,’ she said, shaking heself and wrapping her hands under her cloak. ‘What about your work? The convent?’ she said, glaring at me.
I said nothing, just stared back at her, knowing she knows the answer as well as I do.
‘So what am I going to do about the convent?’ she asked me again, hoping this time the right answer might appear by magic.
Ah, feck off, I thought te meself. She’s acting as if this is all my fault. Like I did it on purpose. I watched her turn away like she had no further use for me and I’m outa her head already. I might as well not be here at all.
‘Really,’ she muttered, opening the door and talking te herself, ‘this is too bad.’ Then she was gone, banging the door after her, leaving me standing here wondering why she didn’t even ask me was I all right.
So, that’s the way it is. I’m only a grand girl and a very hard worker so long as I am useful te them. Now I can’t do anything, they don’t want te know me. They haven’t even bothered their arse te ask me am I in pain. Would I like a cup of tea? Or what about if I give you an aspirin for the pain and put you to bed with a hot water bottle, and you can have the transistor radio to keep you company? I knew it! I fucking knew it! Sister Eleanor wouldn’t treat any of the others like this. When they’re sick, she fusses over them like mad. No! I’m not here long enough for them te treat me as one of their own. I’m nobody, only somebody when I have something te give. They’re just like Jackser and the ma. I sat meself down on the sofa and started te cry with the pain and the shivering feeling inside me. Me head was hot and the rest of me was ice-cold. The painkiller they gave me in the hospital was wearing off, and it felt like someone was sawing off me hand and arm. And I wanted someone te come and mind me, just someone te care, treat me as if I matter te them just for meself, not for giving them things or working hard for them. No! When I get outa here, no one is ever going te get the best outa me for nothing. Fuck them, I sniffed, looking at the sleeve of me cardigan, wondering if I should wipe me snots in it. I did, thinking I have no hankie.
CHAPTER 23
Right, finished at last. I blew the damp hair sticking te the side of me face, and peeled meself up off me knees, standing up straight, and stretched. Getting the tangles outa me muscles. Another week over, getting me closer te the door and on me way out inta the world.
I wonder what kind of a job I’m going te get. The girls like me usually end up as domestics, working in houses, cleaning and looking after children, while the mother goes off te get her hair and nails done. No! I’m definitely not ending up as a skivvy, having te live in the house and being at the beck and call of some aul one and aul fella. That’s what the girls who have already left complain about when they come back for a while between jobs, after getting themselves fired. Or leaving and ending up with nowhere te go and no money in their pocket.
Anyway, this is back-breaking work. Down on yer hands and knees scrubbing and polishing. There must be something else I can do. I’m going te have te work on finding a way outa this. The real problem is young ones like me don’t earn enough, say, working in a factory. I wouldn’t earn enough money te get meself a bedsitter, pay the rent, electricity, food and probably bus fare. Never mind about clothes or having a bit te spend on meself. Fuck it! That’s why we end up working as mothers’ helps. There’s really nothing else. But there must be a way outa that. I promised meself that when them fuckers in the refectory laughed at me when I was washing up after them and sweeping the floor. I saw the picture again of them saying, ‘We are all going to get good jobs when we finish our education. Unlike some, who will end up in the back of some restaurant, in the kitchen, pot walloping!’ That fuck-face Hatchet-face, with the long stringy hair and beady eyes, threw her ugly mug over at me, squinting and sniffing and giving me the evil eye. It was her saying that started the rest of them off. So any time they wanted te get the better of me, they would chant that. That’s when I clamped me mouth shut tight, saying te meself, never! Whatever I do, I will rise te the top by working hard, and one day you fuckers will be looking up te me, polishing me shoes. Fuck youse all and yer educations, I will educate meself.
After that, I started te teach meself te speak properly. The first thing people will judge ye with is their eyes, how ye look. Then hear exactly who and what ye are by the way ye speak. I have been listening te Ma Pius. They can laugh at the way she speaks, sounding very grand. But that suits me, and now they are laughing at the way I speak. Fuck them. I will always know more about the world and its ways than they will. They are going te have te learn the hard way, God help them. Are they in for a nasty shock!
I stooped down te pick up the bar of soap and scrubbing brush, putting them outa harm’s way in case some aul nun slips and breaks her neck, and I’d have te limp through the rest of me life with the picture of her splattered on the ground dead as a dodo, and me only claim te fame was, ‘Lookit! There goes yer woman tha kilt tha poor unfortunate nun! Yeah! Lookit the state a her! She looks haunted and hunted. They say she did it on purpose! And they only let her outa the lunatic asylum a year ago. She must be nearly hittin fifty if she’s a day! And lookit all the hair growin on her chin! They must a been feedin her them hormones we hear about! Jaysus! Don’t let her see ye lookin, she might come after us!’
I laughed out loud at the picture of it, just as the Reverend Mother’s head appeared around the banisters. ‘Are you there, Martha?’
I picked up the bucket of dirty water, making me way up the lovely clean s
tairs, saying, ‘Yes, Mother! I’m coming.’ Jaysus, she’ll think I’m queer in the head if she saw me laughing te meself. I stopped on the little landing next te the nuns’ toilet and dropped the bucket, waiting te hear what she wanted.
‘Listen! Would you ever go outside to the poor man’s hut and tell those children to please leave the grounds.’
‘Which children, Mother?’
‘The two girls who came up earlier for the tea. They are rambling around the grounds and goodness knows what mischief they may get up to. Will you go straight away?’ she said, looking at me watching me bucket.
‘Right! Do you want me to empty this dirty water now, or shall I leave it here?’ I said in me best Ma Pius voice.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, use your intelligence. Empty the bucket of course.’ She rushed off shaking her head, not understanding how she manages te put up with someone as thick as me!
‘Tut, tut,’ I clucked under me breath. ‘Yer yoke is a heavy one, Mother!’ Ha! I got that one from reading all the religious books in the library! They ran outa decent ones, so I had te read something. ‘Right, Mother! I’m just slopping out now,’ I shouted. ‘Then I shall fly to the hall door and tell those brats to move off!’
‘What?’ she said, coming back, sensing a note of cheek in my tone.
‘I’m saying, Mother, I will get rid of this dirty water, then get rid of those bold brats.’
‘Yes! That’s what I said. So why are you repeating after me?’
‘Sorry, Mother! I just wanted to be sure that’s what ye meant.’
She went off slowly, trying te figure out if I really am thick as two short planks or just being downright cheeky! I dumped the water inta the toilet and rinsed it out, banging and slapping it against the toilet bowl and making an awful racket! I could hear her clucking outside the chapel and knew she was running her fingers around the edges of the skirting board and along the windowsills, te make sure I had dusted. I shot up the stairs, seeing her doing just that, and flew past on me way out the front door, shouting, ‘I’m on me way out now, Mother, te get rid of them pests!’
