by Martha Long
‘The savings we had so carefully put away? Well, that was spent for the funeral, and putting up a headstone. I even paid a large lump sum for the perpetual care. Wanting to make it up to him for losing the long life he should have had left to him.’
Then she lifted her head slowly, looking around the room, bringing herself back to the here and now. Sitting in the kitchen eating and drinking and listening to the radio with the two of us enjoying the quiet talking. Then she landed her face on mine, and we stared into each other’s eyes. Her shaking her head gently up and down, filled with terrible regret at all the loss she missed out on. Being with her husband and enjoying their old age. Just the two of them together again, after rearing the children. But it never happened.
‘My goodness!’ she said slowly. ‘That is the first time in nine years I have spoken about it. Not since that fateful morning have I really allowed myself to think about it, never mind speaking about it! I just went on without him, feeling numb for years, trying to blot out the horror that kept threatening to engulf me. I suppose I have thawed out a bit. I try to keep busy. But really, it’s just filling in time. I do enjoy my Wednesday nights, though, when my friends come to the house to play bridge. Kevin was a great bridge player,’ she laughed. ‘Oh, I can just hear him now. Getting very vexed with me because I didn’t follow through with a good hand he was holding. He used to get very cross with me and would keep threatening to change partners. “I am going to swap you for Molly Clarke,” he would shout. “She’s a smashing bridge player.” Then he would look over at poor old Molly, giving her a long slow wink, while the poor woman used to blush from ear to ear, then start tittering like a school girl, telling him he was a very naughty man. But all the time loving it. I think she still misses him, too. She was the old spinster from the local library. Oh, he loved the old game of bridge. He took it so seriously. I would laugh, watching him bluster, getting all excited over losing on a particularly good hand. “Ah, Kevin, sure it’s only an old game of cards,” I would say. “Sure you know I am hopeless at bridge!” “Yes, it’s just as well I didn’t marry you for your bridge playing,” he used to mutter.’
‘What was his work?’ I said.
‘Oh, he was a dentist. I always thought that was a very depressing old job, staring into people’s mouths day after day. It was probably that job that killed him,’ she snorted.
‘Yeah,’ I said. Getting the picture of looking down all day long into people’s gobs. With the smell of bad breath and rotten teeth. Then having to yank like mad, trying to get hold of a piece of rotten tooth stuck down in the gum. You’d probably have to stand your leg up on the chair and yank like mad to get it out, pulling the guts out of yerself. Then have to put up with people whingeing and wriggling around in the chair, dying to get away from you, afraid of their life at even the look of you. With you telling them to sit still, or you’ll never get it out. Then manhandling a big drill, the noise going through your head, making your teeth rattle. I suppose that’s what it’s like. Judging by the way people used to talk about it when I was a child. They only went to get their teeth pulled out when they couldn’t stand the pain any longer. Then I thought of Jackser. He used to wait until he got the labour money, then he would go down to a fella on the North Strand, and hand over a red ten-bob note. A whole ten shillings. Jaysus! You could feed a houseful of children for a week on that.
‘I never went near a dentist. All me teeth are fine, and they’re snow white. So I’m very lucky that way. Oh, I remember going to the dentist once. I must have been no more then two or three years old. Jaysus! It was early in the morning, and I got nothing to eat. I remember they lifted me into a huge big black-leather chair. I was frightened out of me life. Yeah! I remember staring down at a pair of old granny slippers someone had left behind in the foot rest. Then a man grabbed me from behind, and put a mask over me face, and started counting, while I was being gassed. I kicked like mad, because I was suffocating. Then I woke up and me ma took the scarf off her head and wrapped it around me mouth, to stop me catching cold, she said. Letting me lean into her as we walked home, because I was still groggy and sleepy from the gas. That was at the old dental hospital in the Corn Market. Yeah! I can still see it as if it was only yesterday. No, I don’t like dentists,’ I said, coming out of that memory. ‘I wouldn’t go near one if you paid me.’
‘You have a lovely set of teeth,’ she said, staring at me mouth. ‘They are all so white and straight. You must look after them.’
‘Eh, yeah!’ I said. Not bothering to mention I never got a toothbrush near me mouth until I went into the convent.
‘I suppose it’s time we started to move,’ she said. Stirring herself and standing up, looking at the clock on the wall.
‘Yeah, I’ll just wash up these dishes and head off straight to bed.’
‘Yes, we’ll get them out of the way, then set the table for the breakfast. It’s always a rush in the morning,’ she said, helping me clear the table, and start to wash up the few dishes. ‘I’ll dry,’ she said, ‘then see you off to bed before I check the house for the night, making sure all the electric plugs are pulled out of the sockets, and the lights switched off.’
‘Ah, no! I’ll keep you company,’ I said, seeing her look white as a sheet.
I followed her around the house, after we finished in the kitchen, and trailed into the sitting room after her. She threw her eye over to the fireplace, seeing the fire guard was tightly wrapped around the fire, and it had died down, with only a few bits of coal still glowing, but they would soon die out.
I searched the job vacancies in the Evening Herald. Me eyes flying up and down the columns. ‘Office staff wanted. Junior copy typist. Must have at least fifty words per minute, accuracy, good spelling essential. Must be able to work on old Underwood manual typewriter.’ No, no good. ‘Office clerk.’ Definitely not. ‘Wanted. Secretary to Managing Director. Must have at least one hundred and twenty words per minute in shorthand, and eighty words per minute typing. Must be smart, well dressed and prepared to travel. Must have at least five years’ experience of running an office.’ Yeah, definitely. That job would suit me down to the ground. Pity I can’t do that stuff. Still an all! I might learn to type and do shorthand one of these days, when I get settled in a job and save up a few bob.
Hmm! What’s next? ‘Medical. Junior Doctors.’ No, no hope of ever wrangling me way into that. ‘Factory work. Experienced girls wanted for jam factory. Must have at least two years’ experience.’ No good. ‘Machinists wanted, for skirt factory, experienced girls only need apply.’ No, hate knitting and sewing! ‘Medical representatives. Ambitious male wanted for large medical supply company. Must have own car, will pay travel costs. Minimum of five years’ experience necessary. Good conditions and pay.’
‘Domestics wanted. Housekeeper wanted for large private house, to take care of four adults. One invalid needs special care. No cooking necessary, as cook on staff. Full bed and board given. Free day off Sundays. Excellent pay and conditions for suitable woman.’
‘Groundsman wanted for private boys’ boarding school in the west of Ireland. Duties include odd jobs, so must be handy. Small cottage available for married couple. Must have references, and come highly recommended.’
‘Protestant school. Church of Ireland couple preferred. Housework. Woman wanted for heavy-duty cleaning. Other staff employed in large private house. Must be strong and able-bodied. Older women in mid-twenties to thirties need only apply. Full bed and board given. One day off per week. Good pay. Must have excellent references. Apply to Nelly Dobbins Agency, suppliers of domestic staff since 1851.’
‘Mother’s help wanted. Strong country girl wanted to help mother with seven children. Cleaning, cooking and gardening, as well as help with children. Only experienced girl need apply, must be a good plain cook. Live-in only. Own room. References necessary. Sundays free.’
Me eyes slid down the page, seeing nothing for meself. I stared at the picture of a miserable-looking aul fella w
ith a bald head. ‘Hair restorer,’ the advertisement said. ‘Works like magic. Thousands of men in America swear by it! Now it has come to Ireland. Freddie tried it out, and after only six weeks, his hair is now fully restored. Hurry! Hurry! While stocks last. One bottle costs only seventeen shillings and sixpence. Guaranteed to work right away.’
I stared at the picture of Freddie, now grinning from ear to ear with a big mop of curly hair standing up on his baldy head. Gobshites! That’s a wig! Hmm.
Ah, bloody hell! There’s nothing in the paper. Not even one job for me. I kept searching, me eyes sliding up and down the pages. Nothing! What am I going to do? Clare and Greg will be back on Sunday. That’s only three days away. I have to find something by then. Because I have to leave one way or the other. They only wanted me for five weeks. Now that’s just about up! Gawd! I’m up the creek without a paddle.
Oh! What’s this? ‘Shop assistant wanted for shop near Drumcondra, close to city centre. Country girl wanted to work in grocery and tobacconist’s shop. Must live in. Accommodation given. Must have experience of shop work.’
That’s me! Work in a shop. Oh, yes, definitely. I always wanted to work in a shop! It’s definitely one step up from being a domestic. They are offering accommodation! That’s unusual. Gawd! That would suit me down to the ground. The best thing about it as well, would be the work is most definitely easier. No doubt about that. Experience? Right, what will I say? Yeah! Me granny used to own a shop in the country! But I haven’t got a culchie voice. Never mind. I’ll think of something. What’s the number?
I flew out into the hall and picked up the phone. ‘Hello, I’m ringing about deh job for the counthry girrel! Is it gone yet?’ ‘No, we are still looking for someone. Why? Is it yureself dat is looking?’
‘Yesh . . . I mean, yeah ’tis.’
‘Have yeh any experience of dat class a work?’
‘Oh, begad, indeed I have. Ha, ha. I was born behind the counter yeh might say, because I have dat much experience behind me!’ ‘Where are yeh from?’
‘Eh, deh yeh mean originally like?’
‘Wha deh yeh mean originally? Where are yeh living now?’
‘Dublin! The big smoke!’
‘Oh, right! Will yeh come to see us for an interview? Would tomorra suit yeh?’
‘Oh! Eh!’ I was trying to think fast. ‘No, I have me day off on Saturday! Would dat be all right?’
‘Yeah, dat would be OK. Are yeh working at the moment?’
‘Yeah, I am! I’m mindin children, but I’m looking teh change.’
‘Oh, right so! Have yeh a pen handy dere? Take down dis address! Now, yeh don’t come here, yeh go teh anuder place. Dey own a few places. Dat place yer asking teh be working in is anuder place dey have. Do yeh follow me?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m following yeh, right enough.’
‘Good! Now, yeh ask for the owner, Missus Murphy, she’s called. Come around two o’clock! That’s the best time teh catch her. She’s cummin in dis afternoon, an I’ll tell her teh expect yeh! Where did yeh say yeh hail from?’
‘Eh!’ Think, think! ‘Bally ma gash!’
‘Wha? Where’s dat?’
‘Oh, yeh wouldn’t know it! It’s down in the very heart a deh counthry!’
‘Wha part?’
‘Eh, Mayoh!’
‘Oh, yeh are a Mayo woman, like meself! But yeh don’t sound Mayo! Yeh lost yer accent. Wha age are yeh?’
‘Oh, I’m a lot older than I sound.’
‘Right so! Have yeh got all dem details I gev yeh?’
‘Oh, I have! Thank you very much. Goodbye now. It was nice talkin to yeh!’
‘Goodbye so. Hope yeh get the job!’
‘Thanks very much.’
I put the phone down with me heart racing. Jaysus! I would never keep that up. It’s no good. When I see that aul one, Missus Murphy, I’ll tell her straight out I’m from Dublin. Fuck them. I’ll do the job as well as the rest of them. I’m not changing meself for no one. I’m a born and bred Dubliner, and that’s the way I’ll stay. Right! Good, now that’s decided. I’ll tell your woman as well, that I have no experience. But I’m willing to learn, and I’m a fast learner.
I put me head in the kitchen, seeing the little granny busy heaping flour into a bowl then breaking in eggs. ‘Martha, Granny and Timmy and me are baking a cake specially for Mummy and Daddy when they get back home tomorrow. Do you want to help?’ Ollie asked. He stood there wearing a long apron belonging to Granny, and his hair was standing up stiff with white flour. I laughed, seeing his face and nose covered in chocolate.
‘Is it a chocolate cake you’re baking, Ollie?’
‘Yeah! How did you know?’
‘Did you dip your nose in to test it?’
‘Yeah! No! I was stirring it for Granny. Look, it’s all melted in the saucepan.’
‘Cakes!’ Timmy shouted, laughing and waving the wooden spoon, examining it and then giving it a good lick. He was covered from head to toe in flour, with the apron Granny put on him trailing the ground.
‘Sorry, Ollie, I have to go out on a message. Missus Enright, I’m off now! I should be back around teatime.’
‘OK! Have a nice day out. Enjoy yourself, and don’t spend all your money!’
‘No fear of that,’ I laughed. ‘Bye, Ollie. Bye, Timmy. Have a great time with your baking, and cook me something nice.’
‘Wait, wait! Give me a kiss.’
‘OK,’ I said, putting out me hands to grab him in case he got his mucky little paws all over me lovely new clothes. ‘Now, there’s a smacking big kiss for you. Bye-bye, have to run.’
‘Me, me!’
‘Oh, right!’ I tore back and grabbed little Timmy, swinging him into the air. Ah, fuck! I thought, seeing a shower of dusty flour landing down on me head. Hmm! ‘Two big kisses for Timmy.’ Then I landed him back on the floor again, and tore out the front door, banging it shut behind me. I rushed off down to catch the bus into town. Smacking the dust like mad off meself. Wishing I could see what I looked like in a mirror. Hope I’m not covered in chocolate.
I hopped on the bus, with only a five-minute wait. Great! This is lucky. No long wait. I wonder what questions she will ask me. I better think up something good. It’s best to be prepared.
I looked up, seeing we were just heading into O’Connell Street. Jaysus! That was quick. The bus was flying. I hopped up quickly, checking to see I had me handbag. Then waited with me back twisted, until the old man sitting next to me huffed and puffed himself to a standing position. I watched him, waiting patiently for him to let me out of the seat. But he’s barely moving himself. He’s spent the last five minutes with his arse in the air, thinking about making the next move. ‘Ah, for the love a Jesus. Will yeh hurry up, mister! I’ll miss me stop,’ I muttered to meself. I could feel meself beginning to lose me rag.
‘Sorry, mister, could you please let me out?’
‘I’m gettin there, I’m gettin there. Hold yer horses! You young ones have no patience these days. In my young days—’
‘LET ME OUT! I’m missin me stop.’ I panicked, looking down at the conductor, seeing we were stopped. ‘HANG ON! I’M GETTIN OFF!’ I roared, pushing past the old man still giving out, and rushing down the aisle. The conductor banged the bell, making the bus pull off, just as I got to the platform, and I had to jump off backwards. ‘Swine!’ I shouted after him, watching him stick out his tongue and cross his eyes at me.
I stood on the footpath getting me breath back and snorted in air, then let it out slowly. Right! I pulled me hat down on me head, fixing me coat, and tightened the belt. Then started walking, looking at all the bus stops to see which one takes me to Drumcondra. ‘I could walk. It’s not really that far,’ I muttered to meself, thinking about it. ‘But I don’t want to be late.’
I threw me head across the road, looking up at Clerys’ clock. A quarter to one. No, it’s better to take the bus, then I’ll have a bit of time to get me bearings and take a look around. I milled me way
through the crowd, all rushing in different directions, wanting to get their Saturday shopping done before the shops ran out of the good stuff and there wouldn’t be any bargains left, especially for the Sunday dinner. I gave a shiver, remembering me robbing days in the shops. Jaysus! Don’t start thinking back on that now. It’s all behind me, thank God.
The bus! Which stop? Ah, come on, Martha. You’re just wasting time. I saw a bus man lounging outside the Carlton Cinema, hanging onto his money bag and ticket machine. ‘Hey, mister, which bus do you get to Drumcondra?’
‘There! It’s right there, under your nose. It’s not far. Why don’t yeh walk? Yeh could take me wit yeh, if yeh like. I’d be grand company for yeh and I might even buy yeh a bag of chips, if yer not careful.’
I stared at him with me mouth open. Taking in the state of him. Watching him wink and narrow his eyes, turning his head sideways, trying to make himself look gorgeous. Jaysus! He must be hitting forty, if he’s a day. ‘No, I’m not that desperate. Ask me when I have one leg in the grave. But by then you’ll be long gone. Pushing up daisies by the look of yeh.’
