Ma, I've Reached for the Moon an I'm Hittin the Stars

by Martha Long

  I got out the gates and around the corner, heading along the country road, wondering where I was going. I didn’t want to go anywhere; I wanted to go back there and jump into Ralph’s arms. My heart ached for him. The fright and fear and the humiliation at being a nobody in somebody’s life and house was making me feel like a child again. An outcast, an outsider. Then that very old familiar strength started to hit me again. Suddenly I had a buzzing feeling going through me of being saved. I was all right. I could get on the train and go away from here. I had a life waiting for me back in Ireland. In Dublin I had my own home and a man who had asked me to marry him. I have a dog, yes, Bonzo. He will be missing me. The neighbours know me. I am nearly one of them. I have lived among them for years. I belong to Dublin. I am somebody. I am Martha Long, mother of Sarah. I am successful. I am somebody to be respected. I have come a long way. I am not the bastard of the ma and Jackser’s slave.

  No, I thought, pulling out my tobacco and deciding to head for the bistro. Ralph Fitzgerald, yes, he has worked and achieved through discipline. But it was all laid out for him. All he had to do was follow orders. So, fuck him. I have outstayed my welcome in his house and in his life? So what? Fuck him! Hard cheese, aul sock! No, I will have no problem facing him. In fact, I will humiliate him by saying quite crisply, Would you mind awfully organising my trip home? Unfortunately I do not have your financial resources. I missed my flight, so it is going to be expensive. Would that be a problem? I shall say, looking at him with a fixed, indifferent look on my face. Oh, yes, the great mimic me! Fuck them. The bastards in this world who think they are one cut above me! ‘No, Martha, you are forgetting who you are. You are worth a thousand of them arrogant, chinless bastards,’ I hissed, gritting my teeth as I turned and headed off in the opposite direction, making my way to the bistro.

  That was a brilliant idea, Martha, yeah. I enjoyed myself in there with the two old ladies and the man. He spoke a bit of English and acted as the translator. Most of the fun was when we suddenly understood what the other was saying. Then the roars, shouts and laughs went up, with the hands rising to land a slap on the table. Yeah, we all laughed, looking and nodding our heads at each other when the penny finally dropped. It was the reward after much hard work. With me at the ready ‘Oui, oui! That is it!’

  It didn’t matter what we were saying, only that we finally worked it all out. It was the discussion between them, and me diving in on the odd word I recognised! I passed the time for them, giving them something different to think about, while they had all the time in the world to sit and indulge me. With me trying to escape, for a while, the horror of what I was now losing with Ralph.

  Yeah, they were lovely old people, not too much different from my own lovely old Dublin people back home. No, we’re all the same under the skin. Only the colour or the language might be different, but we still want the same things. We just want to be loved and to feel we are somebody because we belong. ‘Yeah, that was grand, lovely! I enjoyed that,’ I sighed, pulling up my fur collar and digging my hands deep into the pockets as I made tracks back to the house.

  14

  I turned in the gates, looking ahead to the wide expanse of fields and lawns, with huge old trees spread out on the horizon. I walked on, finally getting sight of the big house in the distance. Hmm, I thought, lifting my eyes taking it all in. Yes, everything he surveys is his for the taking. All for the benefit and glory of him, and his family when he is not using it. Right, Ralphie, I do not intend making it easy for you. No, two can play your genteel game of politeness. I am going to draw you out, all the way to the wire. No polite hints will shift me. I will make it very uncomfortable for you. Because I am now brimming with confidence. I know who I am and I have my own life back in Dublin. But I intend having some fun at your expense while the going is good. I shall continue to have a life of ease and the comfort of a wonderful holiday with everything a body could want, until you tell me otherwise. I am in no hurry. This is actually the start of my new life. I am living it now. It will continue when I get home. Sergei will wait; he has been waiting. If he does not, then it was not intended. No, philosophy is the order of the day. I shall take life in my stride. So, Ralphie, the ball is in your court. You have to tell me to leave.

  I looked at the front entrance and decided to keep going. Walk ahead, Martha, round the back and in the side entrance. I walked along the side passage and through the door leading into the main hall, then turned and went up the stairs, seeing no sign of Ralph. Good, I am not ready to meet him just yet.

  I went into my room and took off my coat, hanging it up in the wardrobe. Then I took off my boots and left them at the bottom in the shoe rack. I checked my hair in the mirror, seeing I looked fresh and healthy. I had certainly filled out again in all the right places, I thought, feeling delighted at how sexy I was looking. I looked grand in the knee-high soft-leather boots with the wool frock clinging to my curves and the wide leather belt strapped around my waist.

  OK, head for the kitchen and get something to eat. I wonder if he is there? Well, I doubt I will be leaving today. It’s too bloody late. It must be around the four o’clock mark.

  I headed into the kitchen, seeing nobody there. But the smell of gorgeous cooking hit me straight away. The kitchen was lovely and warm, with the heat coming from the Aga. A light burned over it, sending a lovely muted yellow glow into the room.

  Right, let’s see what’s to eat. I opened the oven, seeing big casseroles slowly cooking with the steam and heat escaping as I opened the door. I shut it fast. Nothing in there for me by the looks of it. But Madame Bouclé is thinking of producing a big spread tonight. Must be in honour of the wanderer’s return. Good, got that to look forward to, I thought, opening the lid of a pot. A clear soup was simmering away and in another pot vegetables sat waiting. I turned around looking, seeing nothing I could eat now. Right, have a bit of bread from the basket and a bit of cheese from the dish sitting on the table. Make a drop of tea and what more could I want?

  I opened the kitchen door, making my way out, heading for the stairs, when I heard a door opening behind me in the hall. I could hear the rattling of dishes and the clinking of glass. I stopped and waited to see who it was. Madame came out of the dining room looking very busy with a big, empty, brown wooden tray in her hand and a duster and cloths hanging off her arm. I went up a bit and turned to look from the landing. She didn’t see me as she busied herself with the stuff in her arms. I turned and kept going. Oh, she must be doing a cleaning job in the big dining room, I thought, heading for my room. I turned onto Ralph’s landing and stopped to listen, not making a sound. No, it’s very quiet in there. Wonder if he’s gone out? I shrugged my shoulders, thinking, Oh, well, the longer I keep out of his way, the longer my holiday will last.

  I lay on my bed reading but not really able to concentrate. I sighed and threw my legs out of the bed, wondering if I should just change into my night things. It doesn’t look like I am going to run into Ralph any time soon. The bastard has been hiding himself since he got back. I went down for dinner last night and no fucking sign of him. I ended up looking down at a bowl of stew. She must have made that using the consommé soup and stuck some vegetables and bits of meat into it. I was told to help myself to the cheese and fruit, and that was my lot. No big dinner in his honour, whoever she was doing the cooking for. But it fucking wasn’t for me. Worse! Not a hair, sight nor even sound of him, wherever he got himself to. Never clapped eyes on the bastard. Not even today!

  Worse again! When I went down for me dinner tonight, Madame looked at me as if to say, What do you want? I stood looking and smiling, then sat down, waiting to be served. She started babbling about something, pointing at the pots and all the stuff bubbling away everywhere. I kept nodding, following her and her busy hands with me eyes and head. Then she slammed the oven door shut and looked to see did I understand. I nodded, letting her think I did. I didn’t give a damn about what she was saying, I was waiting for me dinner. But then she turned and went
back to her business, getting on with her mound of cooking. So then I was left looking at the empty place where a dinner should sit. I got up and went to the stove, trying to ask her, with me pointing at the pots. Then she started again, nearly getting into a rage this time. Me nerves went. I was looking at the door, afraid of me life. I was worried Ralph would come in and march me out, putting his boot under me arse as he sent me flying out the door. So I just nodded my thanks with a sick, weak smile and took myself off up here without any grub! It looks like he has decided to starve me out.

  Jaysus, I thought I was prepared for him but it’s looking like I’m no match for the likes of Ralph. He must be deciding to freeze me out as well. Get me on all fronts. I should have fucking known. You can’t get the better of these bastards. The aristocracy have it down to a fine art. They know exactly how to bring you to your knees without making it look like they even raised a muscle. Usually it’s all in the raised eyebrows or the look in the eyes. Or rather the lack of it. They can look right through you, as if you didn’t exist. Ah, well, fuck off, Ralphie. Jaysus, oh man alive, am I glad I didn’t end up with you! It would be hell on earth. The wintry silences if you crossed him would freeze the marrow off you. Right, so go fuck yerself, ye chinless bleedin wonder, I thought, giving the air a kick, wishing it was his arse.

  Right, better get ready for bed and forget the rest of the night. It looks like I’m stuck with the bread and cheese and the bit of fruit. Not to mention the half-bottle of wine whipped from behind her back. It was left sitting on the windowsill. Jaysus, lucky I changed me mind and went back in to grab that stuff.

  Fuck it, I’m the one down to the wire! Now I probably have to slink in and rob the kitchen to feed meself. Still, I’m not moving. He has to tell me to go himself. It’s the least he can do, face me like a man. Mind you, if this is a Mexican stand-off, I’m not going to be the first to give in! Imagine, Martha! All this since that night I gave him an earful! It was right what I said about him that first time after he dumped me and then disappeared. It was when I was on my way to that convent, the one for unmarried mothers, I said he was a man of straw! Oh, was I right? Indeed I was, so bloody right. Pity, though, I don’t listen to me fuckin self!

  Right, get into the pyjamas and dig into the grub. It should go down nice with the drop of wine. No, Ralphie! Yer not goin te best me, ye fucker!

  I woke up seeing it was dark and hearing the noise of banging and loud voices drifting up from somewhere in the house. I sat up listening, hearing a buzz of voices and footsteps. I held my breath, wondering what is happening. My head felt a bit muzzy and my eyes were foggy. I looked, seeing the empty bottle sitting on the low table. Jaysus, I drank the lot. Keep this up and I’ll have . . .

  Suddenly I heard a woman’s laugh, then more voices getting louder. I looked out, seeing people getting out of big cars, and they were all dressed up to the nines. The women had long frocks and some were in tight evening dresses that clung to their bodies and came just above the knee. Yeah, I thought, staring out with the mouth hanging open to me belly button, the women are dressed to kill and the men are all in suits and dickie bows.

  Fuck! The swine is giving a party! My heart starting hammering and me head flew one way then looked down at myself. So that’s what all the grub was about! She was cooking for them! Where’s my dressing gown?

  I lunged for the wardrobe, then flew open the door. Immediately the tinkle of glasses and voices floated up from downstairs. I could feel myself shaking. I’m not invited! Course ye’re not, ye fuckin eejit.

  Oh, I can’t be seen looking like this. I rushed back in and flew to the mirror. Jaysus, get dressed, wash your face, look at the hair. Then it hit me, no, don’t be stupid, you will make a thundering fool of yourself, appearing down there out of nowhere. You will be laughed out of it.

  I sank down into the chair, taking hold of my tobacco, and rolled a cigarette, lighting it up. Don’t go out there, don’t let yourself be seen, I thought, feeling the life going out of me. No matter what I think or say, it always comes back to the truth. I am sick with the longing to be a part of Ralph. But it’s over. This is his life, Martha. You are very much not a part of it, I thought, taking a deep sigh and letting it out, feeling I have died and gone to hell.

  I sat rock-still with my back pressed to the headboard, staring at the window, looking into the distance, seeing nothing. My insides were icy cold, feeling completely shut down. All the life was gone out of me. I could sense the hours passing and the night drifting away. The voices had dimmed to a more muted and lesser babble as the guests thinned out. I listened as more and more car doors opened then slammed shut. Their engines started and I heard them drive off, the cars slowly taking the guests away from the house.

  I looked at the clock. Ten to two. The party is dying down and they are all going home, I thought, blinking and lifting my head, seeing the tobacco with the ashtray sitting on the bed. I sighed, taking in a deep breath, and reached to pick it up. I rolled a cigarette and lit up, taking a deep drag down into my lungs.

  No, Martha, this is no good. It is time to call it quits and go home. This is doing me more harm than good now. Tomorrow I will talk to Madame and ask her to ask Ralph to sort out a ticket for me. I will pay for myself. Enough is enough. Leave well alone. I have nearly fallen so low tonight that it is just like the bad old times again. No, I better get moving. I can’t afford to let myself fall again now I know the difference. I see the signs coming and I can take action. Right, so no more games. Time to be serious. He is entitled to do as he pleases. He owes you nothing and you owe him nothing. All that talk about love, well . . . it is human nature. People really believe what they are telling you at the time. But human emotions are very fickle. He has simply wiped you out of his mind and therefore out of his existence. I actually did bring him to the edge. That is why he ran, just like he did before, when I was eighteen. The man is a confirmed bachelor, never mind a priest. Anyway, the whole thing is academic now. It matters not one way or the other.

  I finished the cigarette and got out of the bed, making my way down to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter now if anyone sees me. I owe them nothing and I’m not their business. Anyway, I will be out of here soon. So that goes for Ralph too, if we happen to clap eyes on each other.

  I came out of the bathroom and walked down the stairs, thinking of going to the kitchen to get myself a hot drink. But I don’t want to meet any of them, not down there. I’ll just see if the coast is clear.

  I made my way cautiously down the stairs, seeing the house was lit up like a Christmas tree. Every light burned in the hall. Even the old candle chandeliers on the walls blazed in a glory of light. The crystals danced and sparkled, throwing shadows of diamonds into a darkened corner. I could see the glare of lights coming from the dining room, with the doors thrown wide open.

  The sitting room door was half-open and I could hear voices and the tinkle of glasses coming from there. I could smell the heavy smoke of cigars and the pungent aroma of expensive cigarettes. Voices murmured then lifted, talking rapidly in French as others joined in, then there was a sudden burst of laughter. I held my breath, wanting to hear. Then I heard Ralph’s voice. He was speaking French with the deep mellow timbre of an English gentleman. I listened, thinking it sounded like music. His intonation went softly up and down, like he was making love with the music of words. It sounded like he was gently scolding, then cajoling, then softly whispering words of love.

  Other voices joined in, all adding their point. Some made it sound like they were crying out in hushed pain, then the voices would lift. I heard a woman’s voice say something, then it sounded like she was pleading as she said Ralph’s name. I heard him laugh, then he said something quickly, ‘Non, non accord! Ohhh, ma chère Soviah!’ he pleaded. Then she said, raising her voice and making it sound like a cry, ‘Ohhh! Que! Ohhh, mon dieu, Ralph!’ He laughed, and they all started shouting, with everyone talking at once.

  I crept further down, finally arriving on the bot
tom step. I wanted to make it into the kitchen and walked slowly and quietly. It was the room closest to the stairs. Beyond that, further down the hall, was the sitting room and my eyes stayed peeled on that. Go on, just take a look, see what’s happening. Be careful and they won’t see me.

  I hesitated, then started heading down, creeping slowly. This is fucking ridiculous. If someone comes out, it is perfectly obvious what I am doing. Sneaking around like a bloody fool. But I couldn’t resist.

  I held my breath as I got just within their sight. I slowly put my head around the door and found myself looking straight at Ralph. He was leaning against the fireplace with a woman standing close to him. She was leaning herself into him, then pulling away as she got her balance.

  She was incredibly sophisticated. Her ash-blonde hair was cut in a wisp around her head. Long and short bits deliberately sculpted were now pasted to cling and frame her face. It was all intended to emphasise her high cheekbones. She wore a long silvery-black dress slit all the way to her thighs. Her black high-heeled shoes with the high back-strap emphasised her long legs. Her make-up was perfect, barely showing she wore any. Her high-arched eyebrows were perfectly shaped into a narrow line. Her beautiful blue-grey eyes sparkled with a light pink and grey eyeshadow that was intended to contrast with her ivory skin. The lipstick was dark wine, showing her white teeth as she smiled. She had the look of the ‘Bright Young Things’, the devil-may-care young aristocrats of the Roaring ’20s.

  She is beautiful! I gasped inwardly, letting my eyes gape, with my mouth hang open. I could feel myself wanting to get sick with the fear and jealousy filling me up with its poison, making me feel icy cold.

  I watched as she listed to one side, leaning against Ralph while his arm went around her waist to steady her. He was wearing an evening suit with a white dress shirt and a black bow tie. I have never seen him look so handsome or remote from me. He didn’t look like the Ralph I knew. He looked like somebody I would admire from a distance. Somebody who would not take me, as I am, very seriously. No, I don’t have the sophistication of that woman, or move in his circles.