by Martha Long
I stared at her, me eyes filling up with sadness at her terrible loss. I had the picture of me telling Emmy I’m going on a holiday to the Sunshine Home and worrying when she told me I had to have me head examined for lice and disease. And she checking me head for me and telling me I would pass no problem because I only had a few lice. God! Was that only yesterday? Or was it really years ago!
‘She worshipped the ground you walked on, Missus Redmond, she wouldn’t want to hurt you for the world. I’m very sorry for your trouble,’ I whispered, taking her arm and rubbing her back. ‘I’m going to light a penny candle for Emmy when I pass the first church I come to. And I’ll light one for you, too. She’s watching out for you from heaven. At least her worries are over, Missus Redmond,’ I murmured.
‘Yeah, it’s true, there is tha teh be grateful for. Poor Emmy will never know another day’s sufferin. I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies. Thank God for tha. Tha aul bastard gave her an awful life. Now he’s sufferin for it. He drinks himself stupid tryin teh forget. But I will never forgive him, Martha. No, she won’t have to suffer,’ she said, thinking about it, and making up her mind it was one good thing. Then she shook herself and blinked and looked at me, and reached over to take me arm. ‘Are yeh goin my way? I’m rushin up teh Moore Street teh get a few potatoes and a bit a meat for the dinner. Will yeh come wit me? Maybe yeh might like teh come home wit me and have yourself a bit a dinner. Would tha be OK?’ she said, wantin me to stay wit her a bit longer, not wanting to let go of the bit of comfort of having someone Emmy was close to.
‘Yeah! Course I will,’ I heard myself saying, knowing full well the people were waiting for me and would probably ring the convent. To hell with it! I am me own person now, and I can do what I like. There’s more good to be had by spending a few hours with poor Missus Redmond than them people will ever need. Anyway, Missus Redmond was very good to me in the past when I needed it, giving me the odd bit a bread and sugar when I could get the time to escape Jackser and go out on the street to play. So fuck them all! This is more important.
‘Yeah! Come on!’ I said happily, diving for me suitcase and taking off, holding onto her arm with me free hand, dying to see Moore Street again.
‘Oh, tha’s better,’ Missus Redmond sighed, sitting down opposite me at the other side of the fire. ‘We managed to get the lot of them down for the night. Do you hear?’ she whispered, cocking her head to listen. ‘Not a sound from them next door,’ she breathed. ‘They’re gone out like a light.’
I looked down at the little one with her eyes closing, sitting cosily on me lap, her little fingers wrapped around the ends of me hair, twirling it and sucking quietly on her soother. Missus stood up and reached for the five-packet Woodbines sitting on the mantelpiece and took one out, lighting it with a rolled-up piece of paper she stuck in the fire and sucked on the cigarette, inhaling deeply, then sat down, stretching out her slippers to the fire.
‘She’s nearly ready to go down any minute,’ mouthed missus, whispering and nodding to me. Letting the smoke pour out of her mouth and smiling down at the baby. ‘Tha’s me last babby,’ she murmured, looking at little Joyce, conking out now with her head thrown back and the soother slipping out of her mouth. ‘She’s seventeen months, can yeh believe the time runs so fast! It was like only yesterday I was bringin her back from the Rotunda, only a bran new babby! Still an all! Thank God tha’s all behind me. Sure, there’s no work in her now. She’s just on her feet. So tha’s definitely the last a them. Nine a them I had, Martha love. Sixteen, if yeh include the ones I lost!’ she said, her face dropping in sadness, staring into the fire, remembering all the children she lost.
‘Come on!’ she said quietly, standing up and taking the baby from me. ‘I’ll put her down, she’s out for the count. I won’t hear another word out of her till the morning. She’s a grand sleeper, never any bother. I haven’t had a day’s trouble with her since the day she was born. She’s a lovely quiet, content babby, God bless her. She sleeps in the cot next teh my bed in the third room. You put the kettle on, love, an I’ll be back in a minute, we’ll have a grand sup a tea an enjoy the peace an quiet while it lasts,’ she laughed, flying out the door with the baby in her arms. I poured the tea, putting a drop of milk and one sugar in the mug and taking the cup for myself.
‘Tha’s it. Another day over and we can take it easy,’ missus said, coming in and sitting down by the fire with the mug of tea. I went over to me bag sitting on top of me suitcase with the hat and coat thrown on top sitting behind the door, and took out me ten-pack Carroll cigarettes and handed one to missus. ‘Ah, no, love. I only smoke these. They’re not strong enough for me,’ she said, lighting up another Woodbine.
‘That was a lovely bit a dinner,’ I said, still tasting the stew behind the back of me throat.
‘Did yeh like it!’ she said happily. Delighted I enjoyed the food she had to stretch teh give me.
‘Yeah! I love a bit of coddle!’ I said.
‘The sausages an rashers do give it a lovely bit a flavour,’ she said.
‘Yeah! It was gorgeous. Do you know, the first and last time I ate anything like that was when Missus Dunne, who lived in the room opposite us, made it for me an the rest of us. That time me ma went into hospi . . .’ I trailed off, not wanting to remember back that far.
She shook her head, understanding, saying nothing. ‘Some things are better left unsaid, love. Them times are gone for you now. Don’t look back. Just make sure you don’t make the same mistakes as yer poor mammy and the rest of us did,’ she said, staring at the fire. ‘By the way,’ she said slowly, thinking, ‘you wouldn’t a heard. But poor aul Missus Dunne is gone!’ I lifted me head, looking straight at her with the fright. ‘Yeah!’ she said, staring at me face. ‘These last eighteen months gone past. Cancer in the stomach, it was. Riddled with it, the poor woman, an she never knew a thing till the last. It was so sudden. She went inta St Kevin’s Hospital, and they opened up her stomach and she was gone in no time. Never came back home. Her relations, one sister she had, came back from England and took the kids, Jimmy and Ellie, back with her. So tha’s where they are now. Living in England. Poor Missus Dunne, God rest her, was well missed. She would do anything for anyone. We’ll never see the like a her again.’ Missus nodded, shaking her head up and down, staring into the fire with terrible regret at the loss of poor aul Missus Dunne.
I felt the tears well up inside me. God rest you, Missus Dunne. I won’t ever forget you for all your goodness to me. Please, God, I pray that Jimmy and Ellie are being looked after the way their mother looked after us. I could feel the tears streaming down me face and brushed them away, feeling a terrible loss. And poor Emmy and Missus Redmond. There never seems to be any rest from the pain and suffering of the poor people.
‘She was a great character,’ I smiled. Remembering the things she used to say when people annoyed her.
‘Oh, God! Don’t remind me,’ laughed Missus Redmond. ‘I remember her husband before she got rid of him. He used to turn up mouldy drunk, oh Jaysus! Mouldy drunk he would be. Turnin up and bangin on the winda, threatenin teh annihilate her and smash the winda if she didn’t let him in. Oh, be God! She was well able for him. No better woman, I can tell you. Then one night . . .’ and Missus started to roar her head laughing. I waited wit me mouth open, smiling and holding me breath. ‘Do yeh know wha she did?’
‘No, tell us.’
‘Well! She waited till he fell asleep in his usual place under the winda. Then opened it, an upended a bucket of shite she’d been savin specially for him an poured the lot all over him. Tha was the last time she ever clapped eyes on him. He cleared off and never came back. Jaysus! We were talkin about tha for years. We never got tired of askin her teh tell us the story about it, over an over again we heard it. It was the way she used teh tell it tha made me laugh. God! An I’m still laughin, Martha. Oh, God! Indeed she was a great aul character,’ she laughed. Wiping her eyes listening to me screeching me head off, with the
picture of Missus Dunne getting her own back on the husband.
‘Do you remember the time me and Emmy sold the periwinkles out at the gates?’ I said, laughing.
‘Ah, Jaysus! Will I ever forget? We went off out teh the Sandymount Strand the day before. I had them all wit me. We took the train out an brought the two metal buckets, wit poor Emmy carrying all the stuff in them. The bottle a milk an the cold bottles a tea an the sambidges, an we even brought a big workman’s shovel,’ she laughed. ‘One a the Corporation fellas stopped leanin on it, restin himself, after doin nothin all day, an threw it in the hole in the middle a the road they’d been digging for months. Anyway, one a mine spotted it an brought it back teh me, thinkin it would come in handy. Well, it did! Little Christie had teh carry tha, an it was twice the size a himself. Yeh shoulda seen the sight of us. We spent the day diggin up the sand lookin for mussels an winkles, the whole lot of us, even the babby. Mind you, half a them wasn’t even born then. We were so busy we didn’t even notice the bleedin tide was comin in till it started lappin aroun our feet. Then we had teh make a break for it. Holy Jesus! Everythin was soppin wit the water, an we were goin mad tryin teh gather up all our things. By the time we made it up the steps, we were like drownded rats. Soppin wit the wet we were, Martha. We had teh wade through inches a water wit me carrying the babbies, one in each arm. The babbies were only small then. Wit only nine months between them, and me shoutin teh poor Emmy, “Come on. Hurry! Make sure we don’t leave anythin behind.” God almighty. Tha was a grand day out all the same. The childre never stopped talkin about it. How old would Emmy a been then?’ Missus said, thinking.
‘Nine! She was nine, just like me. We were the same age.’
‘Oh! Indeed I know. There was only . . . wha was it? A few months between the two of youse!’ she said, looking at me and thinking about Emmy.
‘Yeah! We stood outside the gate with the winkles and mussels in the two buckets after we cooked them in your big pot,’ I said, pointing under the sink.
‘Yeah, I remember,’ she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘We sold them for ten a penny and five for a half-penny. At first we just gave handfuls, then we had the idea of counting them to make more money.’
‘I think we made about twelve shilling and nine pence, if me memory serves me,’ I said, remembering the two of us counting up all the coppers and half-pennies.
‘She was a very good daughter! I was blessed wit her,’ missus said, looking like her heart would break. I sat quietly, looking into the fire, leaving her with her memories while I had mine.
‘Do yeh know, Martha?’ she said, her mouth twisting in pain. ‘Even up to the last she was thinkin about me. Do yeh know how they found me?’
‘No,’ I whispered, waiting.
‘They found a letter in her bag addressed teh me, and inside it was a pound note. She was goin teh post me the letter wit the money in it, but she never got the chance. I still have tha pound! I won’t ever spend it. Do yeh know wha I want teh do some day, Martha? I want teh get enough money saved up. So tha one day I’ll have enough put by, an I can bring her home teh rest wit me own mother up in Glasnevin Cemetery! An I won’t rest until I have tha done. Every spare penny I have I put away for her! Yeh can do tha! Can’t yeh? They will let me take her up and bring her home? Wouldn’t they?’
‘Oh, yeah! Of course! She belongs teh you. Nobody can stop yeh burying yer own. Have no fears about that, Missus Redmond.’ She shook herself, nodding her head in satisfaction, and went back to staring at the fire.
I began to stir, thinking about the time. ‘I suppose I better be thinking of making a move. If I am to catch the last bus back. Yeah.’
‘Oh, God, yes! Where are yeh off teh? Are yeh goin home teh yer mammy?’
I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her. I didn’t want to upset her. ‘I’m not goin back near Jackser!’ I said, looking at her. She stared, trying to work this out. ‘I’m starting work in a house out on the Northside, near Malahide. I don’t want to go back near him, he’ll only expect me to start robbing for him again, and I’ve done me time getting locked away in that convent, Missus Redmond. I want to make something of me life. So I’m not looking back.’
‘Yeah! Yeah, yer right there! Tha aul bastard was a swine in his heart. Just like the bastard I’m married teh. If it wasn’t for him, I’d still have me beautiful Emmy! Yer right! Don’t look back. Make a decent life fer yerself, an be happy. God knows, yeh went through enough, in yer young life. When I think about yeh dragging tha big bag around sellin tha butter. An in the end it was all for nothin. Yer the only one tha suffered. He frittered away all tha money an it was you tha had teh pay for it! Go on, love. Hurry an catch tha bus. An may the blessings a God go wit yeh always. You mind yerself now! And keep away from the fellas! They’re nothin but trouble. Find yerself a good man one day, somebody tha will mind yeh an be good to yeh. An remember this! It’s better teh be an aul man’s darlin than a young man’s slave!’ she laughed. ‘Tha’s wha my poor aul mother used teh say teh me, God rest her. She’s up in heaven now wit my Emmy, an the rest a them. Pity I didn’t listen teh her,’ she said, looking mournful, shaking her head with regret.
‘Yeah! That’s a good one,’ I said, laughing.
‘I must remember that,’ I whispered quietly to meself and laughed again. I picked up my bag and opened the purse. Inside I had eleven pounds and ten shillings. I never spent much of me wages I got for working in the convent. ‘Here! You take this,’ I said quietly, rolling up the ten-pound note and pushing it into her hand. She looked at it and I could see the colour draining out of her face. I grabbed me coat and slapped me French beret down on me head. Or Bonny and Clyde hat I like to call it from the film I saw about two bank robbers in the 1920s.
‘Jesus Christ almighty,’ she breathed in shock. ‘I can’t take all yer hard-earned money from you. Sure, I’d have no luck doin tha! No, yer very good. Here! Take it back,’ she said, shoving it back into me coat pocket.
‘No, Missus Redmond. I’ll be very upset if you don’t take it. Go on! If you don’t want to spend it, then take it for Emmy. You can put it towards bringing her home. Sure, I’m on me own now. I have no one to think about but meself. And aren’t I well able to look after meself? I’ll never go hungry! Go on! Take it,’ I said, shoving it back into her hand, picking up me suitcase and shoving me hat further down on me head.
‘I hope yer right,’ she said slowly. ‘I know there’s no better one than yerself for gettin by. Sure, wasn’t it you tha kept them all goin? OK! The blessins a God on yeh! I won’t forget yeh, Martha. An if yeh ever want anythin, sure my door is always open to yeh.’
‘I’ll go now,’ I said, opening the door. ‘You take care of yourself, Missus Redmond. And remember, Emmy is always looking out for yeh from heaven. It must have been her idea for us teh meet today, so that will tell you! She’s still looking out for yeh!’
‘Bye-bye, love! Look after yerself!’
‘Yeah, thanks for everything, Missus Redmond. I’ll see yeh again.’
She waited until I hit the stairs and only then shut the door. I made me way down the dark stone steps, hearing voices at the bottom. ‘Who’re you?’ asked a young fella blocking me way at the end of the stairs, while the other two stared at the wall sayin nothing. I sized them up, putting the suitcase behind me back on the stairs, wrapping me handbag around me wrist and folding me arms, hanging onto the bag. I saw the skinny one with the pimply face throwing the eye at me bag. ‘Have yeh any money in tha?’ he said, nodding at me bag.
‘No! An if I had, you wouldn’t be even gettin a smell of it,’ I hissed.
‘Where yeh from?’
I knew there was no point in trying to squeeze past them. They would only rob everything. ‘Listen, fuck face. Don’t make any mistakes about me! I know your face, Whiney Lynch!’
‘Wha! Who the fuck are you?’ he roared in astonishment.
‘Listen! I know these flats like the back a me hand. I was eatin fellas like you wh
en you were still gettin yer ma teh wipe yer arse. Now, get outa me fuckin way! I’m goin teh miss me bus!’
‘I know her!’ shouted a young fella wit a dying scurvy-looking face. ‘Yer tha young one who used teh come here sellin the good butter. Aren’t yeh?’ he roared.
‘Yeah, course I fuckin am!’
‘Jaysus! We heard yeh were locked up! Did ya just gerout now?’
‘Now yeh have it!’ I said, reaching around and grabbing me suitcase and pushing past them still standing in me way.
‘How long did yeh get?’ they shouted after me, making me move to hurry out of the flats and get going to catch that bus.
‘Fuckin long enough!’ I shouted back, making for the gate.
That would have been one helluva fight, with me screaming me head off, and bringing everyone in the flats down on their head. Only they have the good sense to know that, and don’t rob one of their own.
That’s the thing. If I had any doubts before this, I know now. I don’t belong here any more. I’m moving on, I’m going to lift meself out of this, no matter what it takes. I’ll work day and night to do that.
Iclimbed on the bus and took the first seat away from the conductor. The bus was empty and I didn’t want to have to start making conversation with him. It had been a very long day and I still had to face these people. They may turn me away from the door, not wanting someone they thought they couldn’t depend on.
Me heart was fluttering with the nerves, and I stared out the window into the pitch-black night, seeing my own reflection staring back at me. The white face with the haunted, worried look in the eyes, under the black beret. That is not the little Martha looking back at me who used to worry herself sick at the thought of what Jackser would do to her. No! That is a grown young woman. It’s me! Yeah! I don’t have to answer to anyone! I don’t have to tell them my business. I will just say there was something important I had to do, and Sister Eleanor was mistaken when she said I would come early. I will say I am sorry for disturbing them this hour of the night, and I know I am reliable as the reverend mother said in her reference she gave me. So if they don’t like it, they can take a running jump and find somebody else for themselves. I will just go and look for another job. Right! That’s that sorted out.
