Ma, I've Got Meself Locked Up in the Mad House

by Martha Long

  She quickly whispered something to a man; he looks like a porter. He nodded to the nurse and stepped quietly out of the room, keeping his head down, not wanting to make eye contact.

  I paused at the entrance, peering in at the semi-darkened room, the only light being thrown in from the hall.

  ‘He’s in here, Martha,’ the nurse whispered, standing beside a slab with my Harry lying on it.

  I hesitated, then slowly crept closer. He was lying so rigid. I followed the long shape of him, covered by a white sheet, stopping at his hands, crossed under the sheet. Then my eyes flew to his face, the only part of him not covered. His eyes were half open! I rushed to touch his face, maybe get a last glimpse of him before he left us for ever. No. He’s gone.

  I stared at his half-closed eyes, searching, seeing only eternity. Then I bent down close to him, kissing his forehead, my lips lingering, hoping for some sense of him.

  ‘He is so cold,’ I whispered, stroking his face, wanting him to know he is so precious. But it’s too late! I can’t tell him. He won’t know. I whispered a little prayer into his ear, imploring he would find peace and maybe get his reward. He didn’t get much in this life. But as the words came out of my mouth, I knew now there was no God. There was no reward, there was nothing. Just life. It doesn’t discriminate. Good, bad and indifferent, it is all the same. You are born, you live and you die. That’s it! It only matters if you find love.

  You didn’t, Harry. You loved, and for a short while you too were loved. Then the love stopped. But you, poor Harry, never stopped loving, even after losing your wife and children. She was too young. She wanted more than you, Harry, could give her, and the abandonment was too much for you. You spent your days searching for her and, in the end, your nights drinking. Looking for comfort in a bottle. Life is a bitch, Harry! It’s like a painted whore. Full of promise but delivers only emptiness.

  Oh, Harry! My lovely, darling Harry. I felt warm tears softly and slowly stream down my face and stop at the corner of my mouth. I could taste the salt. I bent down again, kissing him, leaving my tears wetting his lips. Oh, Harry! You have left me with a hole in my heart. I will miss you until the end of my days. Rest in peace, little brother.

  I turned away, walking slowly the few paces to the door, my hands still wrapped around each other as if in prayer, but it was now only a primitive gesture. I will hold my own hand; I am not alone, it said. But I am alone. I have lost not only you, Harry, but God, my father. My childish belief we are not alone. That there was something higher to aim for.

  I stopped and took one last look at Harry. No! There is no God. I’m so sorry, Harry, I failed you. I should have tried harder to help you, and you promised you would call me. I made you promise. You just went, and you didn’t even warn me!

  I turned my head towards the door.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  I looked up to see the face of the nurse leaning towards me.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she whispered, her eyes very kind, and she put her arm lightly around my shoulder and led me out, very gently closing the door behind her, as if Harry was just sleeping.

  I walked out into the cold night air feeling dazed. My eyes drifted towards the heavy, dark sky. It was pitch black, and the mist floating in the air had settled itself on the car, promising to freeze the marrow in me if I hung around here. It’s time to go and see the poor ma. Or is it? I could feel the life ebbing out of me. Nothing matters, nothing was really worth the effort. See the ma? Go home. Drive somewhere. Anywhere! It’s all the same. Just drive, keep on the move.

  7

  * * *

  I drove out of the hospital, meeting no traffic. Everyone is wrapped up in their beds, everything is so quiet and peaceful. I drove through the dark, silent streets, then down the hill, past the convent on my right, and my heart suddenly jerked! The ghost of little Martha flitted across my vision, and I saw her tearing in through the convent gates, swinging the pillowcase over her shoulder, running to get her two loaves of stale bread. Dreaming and planning and praying and worrying.

  ‘One day! One day this’ll all end, an I’m goin te be free!’ she kept muttering.

  Oh, there’s no such thing, you poor innocent! Yes, I got what I wanted. The ascent was slow, slipping and sliding on the way. There were a lot of laughs, a lot of tears, gnashing of teeth and losing my foothold. But I continued to climb, and, yeah, I made it. I escaped. But it’s cold up here, little one, and lonely, and the price was heavy. It cost me my health. But I’m still alive! Yeah, I’m grateful for that. Or am I?

  I drove on, not knowing where I’m heading. I turned left, passing the Rotunda Hospital on my right, and pulled over, switching off the engine. I need a cigarette. I opened the packet of tobacco and started filling the paper, rolling it into a cigarette, and lit it up.

  The streets were empty in the dead of night. Even the doors into the hospital were shut. I’ll just sit here for a while; somehow, I feel a sense of belonging here. These are the streets of my childhood. The faces of the people are familiar to me. Much more than where I live now. Even though I have spent most of my adult life there, I still don’t feel I belong.

  I looked up at the hospital building, seeing lights in some of the windows. Right now, there is a woman, or maybe even more, struggling to bring a new life into the world. Oh, Harry! How could you do it? For fuck sake! You still had your life ahead of you! Why, for God’s sake?

  The tears burst down my cheeks and I wiped them away with the snots, giving a look around. No, not a soul in sight. Or anyone who cares. I know it’s fuckin lonely, Harry! I know what it feels to lose someone. I know the pain of being lost in a crowd. I know the emptiness of a house that can be quieter and colder than the grave. But still an all.

  No! Let go, Martha. It’s no good. He’s gone. Stop. You’ll destroy what’s left of your health. You’re still trying to get that back. Now take it easy. It’s bad, very bad, but things could always get worse. How? I don’t know. Think straight. Look at the hospital. It’s a lovely old building. Just think, if that building could talk, think of the stories it could tell! Yeah, I better not let myself go. Keep a grip of the mind. I looked up at the building again, thinking that’s the oldest maternity hospital in Europe.

  Then I remembered something. I thought of the women trying to make their way there, some completely alone. Stopping to hang on to the railings of the old houses, gripping, with their knuckles turning white to stop themselves sliding, while caught in the middle of a red-hot pain.

  I came across one such woman one night long ago when Jackser sent me out in the pitch-black night to beg for money. It was close to Halloween, and I might have a chance of getting something. I saw her, slumped against the railings of Marlborough Street Church. She had her head between the railings and was moaning. I looked for a minute.

  ‘Are ye all righ, Missus?’ I asked her quietly, movin closer te her.

  ‘I’m not goin te make it!’ she gasped. ‘Jesus! Help me!’ She turned her face to the sky.

  I looked aroun. No one was out on the streets. It was damp, an ye could see the mist in the air, reflected by the street lamps.

  ‘Little one!’ she said, looking at me sideways. ‘See if there’s anyone aroun te help me. I’m tryin te get over te the Rotunda. This child’s in a hurry! It won’t wait till I get there! Ohhhh!!!!’ She started again, gripped by another pain.

  I took off, turnin right. Me matchstick legs hammerin along the ground. Flyin across O’Connell Street, turnin left, me legs pumpin across the road, an bangin wit me clenched fists on the big doors of the hospidal. Then I spotted the big roundy bell in the wall an hung out of it.

  A little weasel aul fella wit the hair standin up an the eyes rollin in his head whipped open the big door, not knowin where he was cos he was still asleep, dozy bastard! Sleepin on the job.

  ‘Gerraway from tha bell, ye little bastard! I’ll cut the ground from under ye!’ he screamed, walkin backwards, then comin towards me wit his ham fists clenched.
Ragin at me, he was!

  ‘Send someone, Mister! Quick! Te Marlborough Street Church. There’s a woman wantin help! She says the child won’t wait!’ I gasped. ‘So it won’t,’ I muttered, starin at him, waitin te see wha he does.

  ‘Where did ye say?’

  ‘Marlborough Street Church, Mister!’ I roared, takin only a bit a breath.

  ‘Hang on! I’ll get the stretcher,’ he said. ‘No, wait!’ Then he started scratchin his head, thinkin. ‘She’s further back! She’s goin te be needin the ambulance!’

  I shook me head, agreein wit him. ‘Will I wait, Mister?’ I hopped from my right foot, ready to take off, and back to him on me left foot. ‘Can I come back wit ye’s in the ambulance? Te show ye’s?’

  ‘No! Go on! Get outa there!’

  I took off, headin back te the woman.

  I was puffin me way across O’Connell Street when I heard the alarm bells of the ambulance come tearin outa the side a the hospidal. Ah! It’s comin! I’m gettin meself there first! I threw me head back, pushin out me chest, then took in more wind. Me chest is gaspin for the want a breath. But I’m not goin te miss anythin.

  It flew around the corner on two wheels, rockin then steadyin, an took off again, flyin past me wit the alarm bells ringin an janglin like mad. I could see people runnin from the end of the road as the ambulance slowed, turnin the corner. Ah! Me chest bones is crackin an me wind is heavin out through me mouth, makin a keenin sound wit every slap on the pavement. Even me bare feet is gettin an unmerciful bangin. But I don’t care! I’m goin te keep goin. Cos I’m wantin everyone te know it was me tha got tha ambulance out! An anyways! Be rights! It’s only me tha can be the one te lead them te tha poor woman. I was the one te find her first. She might even be dead be now! Cos she was all ailin! Ye never know.

  I rounded the corner, seein the ambulance was stopped. The men jumped out wit the doors thrown open. A crowd a women was surroundin the woman, an the aul fellas got pushed out. They mooched off, pretendin not te be lookin, an just let themselves drop against the railins. Then they lit up their Woodbine butts an started mutterin te each other, sayin, ‘Ah, God love her! Isn’t it terrible all the same?’ But at the one time, listenin an watchin outa the corner a their eye in case they missed anythin.

  ‘Make way! Get back! Give the woman air!’ I could hear the ambulance men shout in the middle of them.

  ‘Get back! Leave her room!’ an aul one wrapped in a black shawl was shoutin, puttin out her arms an wavin the people away.

  I came gaspin up an tried te push me way in.

  ‘Here! Get the hell outa there, you!’

  I was dragged back be another aul one wearin a hat wit a pin in it. An a long coat. It was too big fer her!

  ‘Outa there, you! This is no place fer a child,’ she roared.

  I was yanked back offa me feet an thrown against the railins, landin smack in against the aul fellas.

  ‘Hey, Missus! It was me tha got the ambulance, ye know, fer tha woman!’ I screamed, runnin over and pushin me way back in again.

  ‘Did ye?’ asked the woman in the shawl.

  ‘Yeah!’ I gasped. ‘She was sprawled against them railins there! An I was the one tha got here first!’ I heaved, runnin outa wind.

  ‘Gawd! Aren’t ye very good altogether?’ she said, lookin down at me, not able te get over wha I just did.

  ‘Yeah!’ I agreed, shakin me head up and down, then throwin me eye te the ailin woman in the middle a the crowd. ‘She could be dead an buried now, only I came along.’ Then it hit me.

  ‘An, Missus, lookit!’ I roared. ‘I’m supposed te be collectin fer the Halloween party, so I am!’ I said, shakin Jackser’s dirty smelly sock at her, hopin she’d put money in it. I had blackened me face with the soot from the chimney. Jackser couldn’t lend me his trousers, cos he was wearin them. So this was the best I could do.

  ‘Help the Halloween party!’ I shouted, shakin the sock in the middle a the crowd.

  ‘Here! Here’s a penny fer ye, love!’

  Me head shot aroun. The aul one put in a penny, sayin, ‘Ye’re a very nice young one! An ye should be rewarded fer tha, so ye should.’

  ‘Wat she do?’ an aul one asked, squintin at the old woman, then down at me.

  ‘Ohh, she did a very good turn fer tha poor woman, there, so she did.’

  I stood beside the old woman, listenin an noddin me head. Then she pulled herself up an straightened her shawl, wrappin it tight aroun her head and chest. ‘Yes!’ she hummed, tightenin her chin, darin anyone te contradict her.

  ‘Isn’t tha very good!’ they all started sayin te each other. ‘Here! Come over here, love, till I see wha I have fer ye.’

  They all started rootin in their purses, an I made a collection. When I emptied out the sock, I had one shillin an ninepence halfpenny! I had enough te buy Jackser five Woodbines an bring home change te me ma te make her happy!

  8

  * * *

  I shook my head, remembering. The present coming back into view. Even with the recession, and everyone out of work, they are still better off today. Life was raw back then. Yeah! The eldest child was left to mind the rest of the kids. Their mothers, some of them barely making it in the Rotunda door before they lay down in a place of sanctuary to gave birth. Some of those mothers I knew very well. Struggling from around the city. That woman outside that church was familiar to me. I had seen her face around many a time. That’s why the hospital was started in the first place. Before that, long ago, mothers would come crawling out of their rat-infested hovels to seek help on the streets, only to die there along with their babies who never saw the light of day. Yeah. That’s life. You sure knew that, Harry.

  I lit up another cigarette and sat quiet in myself, just content to sit staring around me, feeling all the memories of long ago wash over me. Somehow, it brings me close to you, Harry. We were children together on these streets. I stared out at the quiet, cold, dark, empty streets. ‘Martha! Martha!’ I heard the faint, quiet whisper of a little voice coming from deep within me. I held me breath, waiting. It was the little Martha from these streets. I let her rise.

  ‘Martha! I want ye te be able te tell me something. Will ye listen te me? Harry is not supposed te be dead. But he wasn’t supposed te die, at all, Martha. If ye work hard an do yer best, then ye get te be happy, don’t ye? Cos ye have te!’

  A pinched little scruffy thin white face suddenly appeared in my mind’s eye. ‘Ye do get te be happy, don’t ye, Martha?’ she whispered, already knowing the answer. Her eyes looked haunted with the weight of the world showing through them. They were the eyes of an old woman that has seen too much, yet still held all the trust and innocence of a young child.

  I shook my head. ‘Yes,’ I whispered. I did believe that. Even running from you was a waste of time. Now I don’t know who I am or why I bothered.

  ‘Why do ye never want me, Martha? Ye can’t do without me, ye know! I belong te ye!’ she roared, bringing her face in closer, daring me.

  I searched her blue-grey eyes, seeing them spitting fire. A fire flared up in me own belly. Because? I wanted to blaze at her! So many thoughts flew through my mind at the same time. Then the fire died down. And I felt the truth.

  ‘You were nobody. I was ashamed of you, so I buried you. Oh, yes, little one. I did what I said I would do. First, I educated myself. I read big books; they call them “Classics”. It’s what all the big important people who are “Somebody” read when they go to the university. So I did the same.

  ‘Most of the stuff, I couldn’t make head nor tail out of any of them. But I gradually got to understand what they were talking about. I discovered I could understand a lot of things. I started to speak and sound quite knowledgeable, educated. Like I had been to the university. I spoke properly. My tastes grew. I learned the difference between “Classic” and “Cheap”. Quality and rubbish. I could pass myself off as “One of the Quality”. I became “Somebody”. People accepted me. The more “Quality” I became, the d
eeper I had to bury you. I always feared some day somebody would find out about you. The more distance I put between you and me, little one, the more I could forget you and the ma and Jackser ever existed. All the pain they inflicted! Well, it never happened to me. I could leave it all behind with you. We had to live in different worlds. I needed to be beyond the reach of my old life. That is what drove me, little one.

  ‘I fooled everyone. The decision makers, the professionals, the middle-class respectable. I moved among them all, accepted as one of them. But inside me, my little one, I am empty. I am nobody,’ I whispered. ‘Everything about me is a lie. The more I moved away from you, the emptier I was. The person my world knows and accepts does not, and never did, exist. I have no real friends, because they do not know the real me. To do that, I would have to let them see you. I can’t do that, because I am afraid they will turn their back on me. The way they did on you.

  ‘I never found love, little one. Because the one person who knew me, loved me and accepted you, well, he went away. I gave my heart to Sarah. I never stopped loving him. He never stopped loving me. I know that, because . . . You know, don’t you, little one?’

  ‘Yeah, I do, Martha,’ she whispered, shaking her head slowly. Then she leaned into me. ‘Cos he’s waitin on you, an ye’re waitin on him! An none of ye’s want te be the first te say it! An he’s not goin te come te you. An you won’t go te him. Cos ye’re afraid a wha might happen. Ye think he might turn ye away. He won’t. You know tha, but ye won’t chance it. So now you’ve walked away.’

  ‘How do you know all that, little one?’

  ‘Cos I’m always wit ye! I’m listenin! I know it all! An like you are over him, an all the painin he gave ye. Well, I’m always cryin meself.’

  ‘Why, little one?’ I said.

  She said nothing.

  ‘Tell me!’ I said, leaning into her, seeing her little face lift as she grabbed hold of a lock of matted hair landing in her eyes.