I stood at the back door, puffing on me cigarette, staring out into the darkness, enjoying the feel of the dry cold air making me skin tingle, after being stuck in the house all day. I lifted me head, staring up at the few stars glittering far above in the inky-black sky. Ah, this is the life.
I shivered. Keeping an ear out for the little granny. Yesterday morning when she called me out of bed to get the day going, it was just me and the granny. Clare and Greg had gone off to the airport late the night before. Gawd! She never stops fussing. Flying around in her big fluffy slippers, making much ado about nothing. Giving me orders left right an centre. Getting nothing done! Now nobody listens to her. Not even Timmy!
The door opened suddenly without any warning and a voice roared, ‘Shut that back door! You are letting all the heat escape. What’s that smell?’
I got such a fright, I sent the half-smoked cigarette flying through the air, sending it landing on the damp grass. I watched it for a split second, glowing in the dark, hardly any of it smoked. Ah! What a pity to waste all that! I whipped me head around, staring into the granny’s white tired face. Her new perm with the red dye was flattened on her head, and her eyes were hanging out of her skull and she had on a frilly apron covering her aul black skirt and a yellow blouse with the top buttons missing, showing off her grey wrinkly neck with the skin hanging down. I could see she had somehow shrunk very quickly, and looked like the next gust of wind would blow her away.
‘What’s that smell?’ she barked.
‘What smell? I don’t smell anything.’
‘Were you smoking in the kitchen?’
‘No, definitely not. Why? What’s wrong with you, Missus Enright?’
‘Wrong? Nothing’s wrong! Why should there be anything wrong?’ she snapped, lifting her neck, trying to make herself look bigger. ‘I have everything under control,’ she snorted. ‘Now, don’t you dare ever smoke in my kitchen!’
‘Right!’ I snorted, marching out.
‘Wait! Where are you going?’
‘To switch the television on in the sitting room.’
‘No, there will be no television unless I say so.’
‘Wha?’ I screeched, leaving me mouth hanging open, ready to give her an earful.
‘Go upstairs this minute and read those bold boys a bedtime story. Then I expect them to go quietly to sleep,’ she said. Looking up at the wall clock, seeing it was half-past eight at night and they were still not asleep.
‘But didn’t you just read them a story?’
‘Yes, of course I did. I spent the last hour and a half reading them stories. But they are still unsettled. They are missing their parents.’
I scratched me head, thinking. ‘They won’t go to sleep for me either, Missus Enright. Last night there was murder. They belted each other around the room, flying the pillows and toys and anything else they could get their hands on, having great gas for themselves.’
‘Yes, but who do you think was in and out to them until half-past twelve last night?’
‘Me!’ we both said together.
‘Indeed you were not. I was sitting in their room on my own, and when I called you that last time you refused to get up!’ she screamed, losing the rag at the thought of it all.
‘What about me? I had a hard time getting meself out of that bed this morning, yeh know! I was banjacked,’ I said, beginning teh lose me own rag.
‘Stop talking rubbish!’ she screamed, going purple in the face. ‘Who do you think had to get up and call you? Me!’ She slapped her chest, snorting and roaming her eyes around the kitchen. Wanting the walls to hear what she went through. ‘You are supposed to be helping me! But I am having to run around after you. Now! This will all stop. I am . . .’
‘Don’t you dare!’ I screamed. ‘I’m the one doing all the running, while you fly around the place like a headless chicken!’
‘How dare you speak to me in that tone! I will be reporting you to Clare when she gets home. You may be assured of that, madam!’
‘You reporting me?’ I screamed, starting to choke, because I nearly strangled meself with the rage flying through me. Then I started a fit of coughing, and tried to hurry it up to get me breath back. Desperately wanting her to know just how in the wrong she was. She stared for a minute, watching me face turn blue. Then she beat me to it. Opening her mouth wide and throwing her head back and shouting again, ‘Yes, I am in charge here!’
‘No, you are not! I am in charge. Clare left me in charge. She said that specifically. You are only here to do the cooking. I am in charge of the children.’
‘Well, really!’ she puffed, wringing her hands and turning away, making for the kettle to make herself a cup of tea. I could hear the ructions upstairs and headed out the door, flying up the stairs.
‘Martha! We are having a fight!’ Ollie laughed, clouting the little shape hidden under the blankets laughing its head off. Me eyes took in the state of the room. The shelves were empty, all the toys ending up all over the floor, and the wardrobe hanging open with the clothes on the floor, and Ollie’s eyes flying with devilment, looking like he had enough energy to last the night.
‘Bedtime!’ I clapped me hands, going over to make up Timmy’s bed, with all the blankets lying on the floor.
‘Nooo! We are having loads of fun,’ Ollie moaned in a low keen.
‘Bed!’ I said, quickly finishing making the bed and whipping little Timmy into his own bed. ‘Now, I am going to tell you a story. Not from a book. But only if you promise to be very quiet! Is that OK?’
‘No! We want to play,’ Ollie said, making his mind up.
‘OK, Ollie. Stand off the bed until I make it first, then let’s see what is going to happen next,’ I said, leading him onta the floor.
‘What? What are we going to do?’ Ollie roared.
‘Wait and see! Now, you grab that side and tuck it under the mattress. The sooner we have this room tidied up, the quicker you will find out. OK? Quickly!’ He panted, pulling the blankets up on the other side of the bed.
‘Timmy, pick up the toys and put them on the shelf.’ Timmy let go of his bit of slip from Clare’s underwear. He drags that everywhere when he’s tired. Then he started to throw all the teddies and soft toys at the shelf and landing them on the floor again. ‘Right, Ollie. You hop into bed and wait until we see what happens next.’
I whipped Timmy up and put him into his bed, giving him his bit of silk, and covering him up. He started to suck his thumb, rubbing the silk on his cheek, with his eyelashes flapping, and I knew he would conk out if I could get ten minutes of keeping him quiet.
‘OK, Ollie,’ I whispered. ‘The next bit is you lie down under the bedclothes and wait to see what will happen.’ I saw him wriggling, dragging the bedclothes over him and waiting patiently, watching my every move.
I flew around the room, grabbing up all the stuff and putting them back in their places, and fixed the wardrobe, shutting the door, and closed the curtains again, to keep out the cold. Then I whipped over to put out the overhead light, and switched on the night light, that sits just outside the door on a little table. ‘Now,’ I whispered, sitting down beside Ollie on his bed, ‘I am going to tell you a true story.’
‘What’s it about?’ mumbled Ollie, his eyes closing, now he had settled down.
‘It’s about magic, and fairies, and very, very special teddies, and all about the adventures of two very special little boys called Ollie and Timmy. Once upon a time . . .’ I whispered.
‘. . . and Ollie and Timmy flew back through the open window on the magic carpet and landed back in their own room. Then the snow bear gently lifted the two sleeping little boys and put them warm and snug back into their beds and wrapped them up. Then gazed out at the soft white snowflakes gently falling onto the earth. All was quiet, everything still, and in the distance he thought he could hear the tinkling of bells. “Time to go,” he whispered. “Santa is on his way.”’ I ended the story, barely above a whisper.
Out cold, I thought, staring from Ollie with his mouth open, giving a little snore. To Timmy, totally clapped out with his arm thrown back over his head, and the little silky slip lying in his outstretched hand beside him on the pillow. Gawd! They’re exhausted, poor little things. I stood up gently, not wanting to make a sound, crept out of the room, closing the door over, letting the light shine in through the gap in the open door, and made me way quietly down the stairs.
I opened the kitchen door quietly, seeing the little granny sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and munching on a crumpet. She looked far away, and a bit lost. Listening to the radio sending out lovely old music from long ago. ‘That was the Glenn Miller Orchestra,’ a man’s voice announced, speaking in lovely soft tones with an English accent.
‘They’re asleep,’ I whispered, smiling and creeping over to the table. ‘Are you all right?’ I said. ‘I’m very sorry for losing my temper. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I had no business. It won’t happen again,’ I said, looking at her poor tired old face that had seen a lot of life. Now she looked really drained.
‘No, forget all about it, Martha. You are really a good girl. I had just run to the end of my tether. I’m certainly feeling my age. Here, help yourself. Have a crumpet. I have just heated them up under the grill, and they are lovely and warm. Do you want raspberry jam? I love them that way.’
‘Yeah, thanks, that’s lovely,’ I said happily, staring at her lathering on the good butter and topping it with jam.
‘Now, you can finish the rest of them. I bought them today in the local shop. They had just arrived in with the breadman. By tomorrow they will be stale. Oh, it’s lovely to enjoy the peace and quiet, and know the day is over,’ she sighed, taking a big bite of the crumpet.
‘Yeah, they’re a handful when they get going,’ I said.
‘Oh, I had forgotten what it was like to be taking care of young children. My days of doing this are well and truly over,’ she sighed, staring at the table. Forgetting to eat the rest of her crumpet.
‘Ah, don’t worry. It will be grand. We’ll manage fine between the two of us. Here’s what we’ll do. You look after the cooking, and I’ll do all the washing up and cleaning. Now, if you give them their bath in the night-time, I’ll get them down to sleep, and I’ll take care of the boys, do all the running around. Then you only have to worry about the shopping and the cooking! What do you think about that idea?’
‘Oh, that will be marvellous,’ she said, happily, thinking about it and rubbing my hand. ‘Clare said you were a great girl. I think you are a treasure,’ she said, smiling at me. I felt meself blushing at all the praise, and delighted she was now easier in herself and feeling very happy. ‘Mind you,’ she said, ‘I’m delighted to be here. I jumped at the chance to stay and take care of my grandchildren. I don’t see them very often. In fact, only a couple of times during the year. I travel up by train usually, and stay with them for a few days over Christmas. Then maybe for a week in the summer. Other then that . . . well, I’m on my own. Rattling around in that big old house with nothing much to do. Clare says I should get rid of it and move into something smaller and more modern. But I couldn’t be bothered. It’s too much effort at my time of life. Besides, I spent most of my life in that house. It was my husband’s family home. We started our married life together in that house. Reared our two children, and he died there. Prematurely. He should never have died so young. He was only sixty-one. Nearing retirement, he was,’ she said, shaking her head, a look of pain crossing her face. ‘We had so many plans. So much life to catch up on. We were going to go on a world cruise, you see,’ she said, looking at me like she still couldn’t understand what went wrong. ‘We had been saving for that for years. Then one morning, it was just after eleven o’clock – I remember hearing the grandfather clock ring out the chimes in the hall as I rushed to answer the phone. It was Mr O’Driscoll, my husband’s partner. “Mary,” he said, sounding very serious, speaking very slowly and precisely. “I have grave news,” he said. I knew straight away something terrible had happened. It was the way he spoke, using the word “grave”. I just knew.’
She shook her head, letting the whole thing happen to her all over again.
‘Then he coughed, I remember holding my breath, feeling a terrible sense of dread. “What is it?” I said, wanting him to get on and tell me. Dreading to hear what he was going to say. “Mary, I’m afraid it’s Kevin. He collapsed here in the surgery. Doctor Geoghan came straight away, but it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do for him. I’m . . . afraid he has passed away.” He said that so quietly, I could barely hear him. “I’m sorry I’m not there with you, to give you the news personally, but I’m still at the hospital. I was waiting for news. Hoping he would pull through. But I’m afraid he was gone by the time we got here, the doctor told me. Father Finnigan is on his way over to you right now. He will drive you out here to the hospital. I’ll wait here for you, if you like? Would you like me to ring anyone?” “No, no,” I said, putting down the phone. I remember staring at the clock, hearing the time ticking away. Hearing no other sounds. I was completely alone. I knew then that was it. My Kevin had gone. We had lived for each other, and the children. Now they were all gone. John, my son, the eldest child, was a missionary priest out in Africa. I knew I might never see him again. It had been fifteen years since he went on the missions, and we had never seen him again. Not once. Clare was up here in Dublin doing her hospital training. That was it,’ she said, staring down at her hands, talking quietly, lost in that terrible time back then.
‘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 with 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.’
‘Go on outa tha, yeh cheeky little cow. Women would give their eye teeth teh get their hands on me. Ask the wife, she couldn’t wait teh get me down the aisle,’ he said, shaking his shoulders, and wriggling his neck. Looking like he believed every word of what he’d just said.
‘There yeh go! The poor woman was desperate,’ I roared over. ‘By the time she got around to making up her mind, you were the only thing left sitting on the shelf!’
‘Ah, now, I was saving meself for you! But the poor woman threatened teh throw herself in the Liffey if I didn’t make an honest woman a her.’
I roared laughing, watching the size of him, standing there wriggling himself, bouncing up and down on his toes, trying to make himself look bigger, and stretching his eyeballs, doing everything he could to make himself good-looking. Jaysus! He’s a gas character, I thought, standing at the bus stop, waiting on the bus. Enjoying meself no end.
OK, here we go. Drumcondra. I walked past shops looking for Aladdin’s Den. Luxury clothes shop for ladies’ wear. Ah, here we are. I stood looking in the window at a dummy standing naked, waiting for something to be put on it. I stared down at big corsets, and long pink knickers, and long petticoats to go underneath the frocks. Gawd! They’re very hickey. I put me head in the door, seeing a long wooden counter with a brass surround. Shelves of wooden boxes had jumpers and nylons sticking out. Jaysus! Luxury? Sure, they’re only for aul grannies! I took me head out again, not wanting to be seen. And moved off, wanting to find out the time.
Next door was a toy shop with the name Aladdin’s Cave. Jaysus! She must own that, too. I wonder where she got the name from? Maybe she made her money in them far-off foreign parts. Where they go around in turbans hanging off their heads, and fancy slippers with the toes looking up at you. Like Sinbad! No, he was a sailor man. That’s what the song said anyway, when I was a child.
I looked down at me patent black shoes, seeing the lovely shine. Yeah! The Pond’s Cold Cream did wonders for polishing them, it brought up a lovely shine. I put on me black wool gloves I bought, to go with me Bonnie and Clyde hat the reverend mother bought me when I was leaving the convent. Now I look very respectable altogether. If she doesn’t give me the job looking like this, then she can stick it up her arse. She won’t get any better then me. Right, it must be time to go in. I straightened me shoulders and headed back to the shop.
‘Hello, I have an appointment to see Missus Aladdin.’
‘Who? Missus—’
‘Oh, sorry!’ I whipped me piece of paper out of me pocket and looked at it again. ‘Missus Murphy, the owner,’ I smiled.
‘Oh, yes!’ A grey-faced aul one with glasses sitting on her nose, and the bit of thin grey hair wrapped behind her head tied in a bun. You could see her scalp, where she should have had hair. ‘It’s just to the side of the shop. Push in the door, and knock on the first door on your left. When you get to the landing.’
‘Right! Thanks very much,’ I said, making for the door after the shop. I pushed in the hall door, sending it flying against the wall, and held me breath. I hope she didn’t hear that. She’ll say I’m wrecking the place before I even get in the door. I walked up the narrow stairs, breathing in years of dust. The carpet had seen better days and looked like nobody had swept it for years. This one still has her communion money, I said to meself. I bet she’s very mean with the money.
I knocked on a brown wooden door with a spyhole in the middle, and moved away, not wanting her to see me before I got a chance to see her. ‘Come in!’ I turned the handle, walking into a room covered in cardboard boxes, looking around for Missus Murphy. ‘Are you the girl come for the interview for the shop assistant?’ I looked to see where the voice was coming from. ‘Come in. Sit down.’ Then I spotted her buried behind a big desk. ‘Shut the door,’ she said, standing up and pointing to the door I left open.
I gaped at her. Jaysus! The size of her. She must weigh a ton. A little woman with a big red fat face, and a flat nose with little beady eyes was studying me, as I took her in. She was breathing hard. Making snuffling sounds. Jaysus! Her chest and arse and belly are massive. And her legs look like two tree trunks grown together. I dropped me eyes down to her ankles and they fell in rolls of fat, folding themselves down into a pair of old men’s slippers.
‘Sit down. Take the weight off your feet.’
‘Thanks very much,’ I said, sitting meself down on a dusty old chair, after moving a load of magazines off it.
‘Now, the shop is the next street up from here,’ she said, getting down to business straight away. ‘You have to work shift hours. That means you get up and be in the shop for seven a.m. For the newspaper deliveries. You work from seven to three one day. Then you start at three in the afternoon the next day, and finish at eleven at night. Then you are on again at seven a.m. for the early morning shift. We get the airport traffic, so that’s why we stay open late. It’s right on the route to the airport, so we get a lot of business from that end.’ She smiled, showing a mouthful of gums, with tiny black teeth.
I stared. Some of them are rotten. Gawd! She’s ugly. Just as well she has the money. I looked to see if she really had a wedding ring on her finger. No! I knew it. She’s calling herself missus in case anyone tries to rob her business. ‘I’ll get me husband onta yeh!’ she can roar. Because men take no notice of women. You have to have a man. But she’s right there! I’d do the same.
I blinked, leaning forward to catch up with what she was saying. ‘There’s a flat goes with the job. The wages is three pounds ten shillings a week. Naturally, you are paid on the Friday. The first week you work a back week. That means you don’t get paid that week. But you get it back when you are leaving the job. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, mam.’ I shook me head, taking everything in.
‘Now, you pay one pound ten shillings rent, and ten shillings a week for the electricity bill. That means you get one pound ten shillings into your hand after the deductions.’
‘So I really only get thirty bob a week wages! Is that it?’
She stared at me, her beady little eyes disappearing, the way she narrowed them. I could see her thinking, reading me from head to toe. I dropped me face, relaxing it, and keeping me mouth closed, and me eyes steady with me hands sitting limply across each other in me lap, closing meself down and giving nothing away. I just waited quietly for her to make her judgement. I didn’t want to let her think I might be trouble, by questioning everything. No, I want this job.
She took in a big breath, saying, ‘No, you are forgetting you have to pay rent, and the electricity doesn’t pay itself. So, in fact, you are getting it cheap. Now, do you want the job?’
‘Yes! Yes, please. I’ll take it!’
‘When can you start? I want someone straight away.’
I thought about this. Clare and Greg will be home on Sunday. Monday! ‘Will Monday be all right?’
‘Yes. But can you get here on Sunday night? I want you to start on the Monday early morning shift. Molly will show you the ropes. You can work the shift with her. Then take over in the afternoon. Then Paddy, that’s my manager, he runs the bookies for me. He has the keys to the shops and will lock up and check the takings. You are going to have to learn how to do that. Because he just double-checks. But I’ll get him to help you, or maybe Molly. By the way, are you any good with figures? I hope you can count.’
‘No problem, mam!’ I breezed out. Shaking me head like I was born counting.
‘Good. Because you will be responsible for any deficits in the till at the end of your shift.’
‘Oh! Do you mean if I’m short of money when we count it up, I have to pay out of me own pocket?’
‘Of course! I’m not running a charity for fools!’
‘No,’ I said slowly, thinking no wonder she has her money made.
This fucking aul one would sell the clothes off her granny’s back if there was any money in it. Hmm!
‘So, just to be sure I understand everything, I work a shift, then start late the next day. Is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, if I work two shifts on Monday, I will be getting the time off for that. Isn’t that right?’
She stared at me, thinking, looking shocked. This idea hadn’t even hit her. ‘Eh, I don’t think so. Because we will have to give you training.’
‘At that rate of going, mam, you can have someone stay with me on my shift to give me all the training I need. But by the sounds of it, I should pick it up fast.’
‘But then I would have to pay Molly to work an extra shift!’ she said, the shock at losing money really hitting her now.
‘Well, her or me. I am a very hard worker and I pick things up quickly. But, like you said, mam, my life is not given over to working for charity either.’
‘Right, well, anyway, let me think,’ she said, sounding like she was caught out at her own game. ‘Hmm!’ she said, thinking, trying to work out how she could milk me. ‘Right so,’ she said, scratching her head. ‘I’ll ask Molly to keep an eye on you working your shift on the Monday morning, she’ll probably be hanging around anyway. The flat is just above the shop. Yes, I’ll do that. She’s very obliging that way.’
Good, I thought. She can milk the obliging Molly, and more fool her. I’ve learned me lesson well, after working for them bleeding nuns, milking every last ounce of obliging I had in me bones.
‘Here is the address. The house is next door to the shop. That’s where the flats are.’ Then she handed me a piece of paper, saying, ‘Right! That’s it then.’
I stood up, saying, ‘Thank you very much, Missus Murphy. I’m delighted with the job.’
‘Good. I’m glad to hear you say that. I hope you settle in well. It’s a good job, you know?’
‘Yes. Indeed it is, Missus Murphy. Well, thanks again.’ Then I was out the door and down the stairs, flying down the road, jumping through the air with the excitement. Working in a shop! Off at three o’clock. Sleep in late in the mornings. I won’t have to get up early, only every other morning, and it’s close to the city centre. Oh, thank you, God, for looking after me. I’m so happy, and the best of all was, she did all the talking. I didn’t have to give her any information about meself, so I didn’t have to say I’d just come out of the convent, and watch her counting up all the dollar signs spinning through her head at the thought she was going to get a right eejit she could milk for all its worth. Someone who was just let loose after being locked up for years, and knew nothing about the world and its ways. No, now I’ll be able to keep quiet about that, and just say I worked in a shop. That’s when I move the next step up the ladder, to do whatever job that’s going to be. Probably office work next. I’ll save me money, and pay for the night school to get the training. I tore off, heading into town, not waiting for a bus. I can’t wait to get back and tell the little granny. I have a job.
I woke up seeing the light coming in through the curtains. It’s Sunday! I don’t have to get up early. Great! I stretched and yawned, giving a little shiver, feeling the heat of the blankets, and snuggled down again, to go for a bit of a snooze, laughing under me breath at the luxury of it all. Then me eyes opened slowly again. Sunday! I’m leaving today. Clare and Greg will be back. Jaysus! I better get up quick and get meself going. I have to pack.
I dived out of the bed and into me clothes, opening the door and heading down for me breakfast. I could smell a lovely fry coming from the kitchen, and hear laughing and voices. I leapt into the kitchen, landing me eyes on Clare sitting at the table with Timmy on her knee, helping to eat the sausages off her plate. ‘Look who’s here!’ Greg roared, standing there large as life with his hands on his hips, wearing his dressing gown and brown leather slippers. Laughing at the sight of me face at clapping eyes on them.
‘Clare! You’re back!’ I shouted, rushing in and standing beside her at the table, staring at her, still trying to take in the sight of her. ‘How was your holiday?’ I laughed, getting all excited. Looking from her with the lovely golden face and her hair snow white. Then whipping me eyes over to Greg, looking brown as a berry, with his brown curls gone a goldie colour.
‘Great,’ he laughed. ‘It was a second honeymoon! Isn’t that right, darling?’ he laughed over to Clare, who was smiling, looking at him, closing her eyes like she was very tired but regretting it was all over.
‘Oh, it was marvellous. We had a wonderful time, Martha. How did you and Mother get on with the children? Was everything all right?’ she said, putting a bit of rasher in her mouth, and buttering a slice of toast. Timmy sat on her lap, watching the rasher going into her mouth, and wringing his hands, having them at the ready. I could see he was biding his time, getting ready to grab it.
‘Watch that last sausage, Clare!’ I laughed. ‘You’re about to see it vanish.’
‘Oh, I was looking forward to this. But most of it has already found its way down his little tum-tum,’ she laughed, squeezing his belly, making him fart, and squeal laughing.
I peeled me eyes back to Clare, saying, ‘Oh, everything was fine. We had no problems whatsoever. Do you know, Clare, I think your mother is great. She’s a real dote!’
Greg threw back his head and screamed laughing. ‘Greg! Behave yourself!’ Clare snorted, getting annoyed with him making a joke of her mother.
‘Ah, no! Seriously, though. I told you they would get on like a house on fire. The elderly and the young always do,’ he said. Shaking his head up and down, trying to look serious, and looking very contrite at Clare, then at me, and back to see how Clare was taking it. Hoping he had made peace with her.
She gave him a look from the corner of her eye to see if he meant it. Then she smiled at me, saying, ‘I’m delighted to hear that, Martha. It eased my mind knowing my mother had you to help. She was delighted with being left with the children, but she’s not getting any younger. Well, everything seems to have been fine without me!’ she said. Looking around the kitchen then laughing down at Timmy, wrestling with a whole sausage. He was trying to chew the lot at once, but he couldn’t get his teeth around the size of it. Clare pulled it out of his mouth, and gave him a piece, leaving the rest sitting on the plate. He swallowed the lot without chewing, and grabbed the rest, jamming it in his mouth. Then started to choke, and pulled the lot out of his throat again, making a sick-looking face, and stared at it in disgust. Then he flung it on the plate, jamming his two little hands under his arms, shivering his face, his whole little body rattling. Like he had just eaten something horrible. I roared laughing, looking at the carry on of him.
‘That’s put him off sausages for a while,’ I said.
‘You must be joking,’ Clare said. ‘Some people eat to live. Others live to eat. Especially this little glutton here,’ she said, shaking him and giving him a smacking kiss on his head.
‘So! Here we are. Back to the grindstone,’ Greg said, scratching his head like mad, then stopping, with his head bent to the floor, looking like he was thinking. ‘Oh, by the way, Clare, I better check the diary for this week! I think that conference is coming up on Thursday.’ Then he was out of the kitchen, flying up the stairs, heading into their bedroom.
‘Clare, I’m leaving this afternoon, after lunch. I got meself a new job,’ I said, watching her eyes open wide with her mouth dropping, staring at me in shock. ‘Yeah! I got a new job working in a shop! I have to start early in the morning. So they want me to arrive there this evening. I get a flat with the job.’
‘You are leaving today!’ she said, dropping her head on the word ‘today’. Trying to take it in. ‘Gracious! I didn’t expect you to leave so soon. I know we said five weeks but . . . I suppose you are right. Where is the shop?’
‘Drumcondra, Clare. It’s not too far from the city centre.’
‘Well, I certainly am going to miss you. The boys really did take a shine to you. Especially Ollie! He really will miss you,’ she said, thinking about this. ‘Right, I better get moving and get the dinner started. You don’t want to arrive late!’ she laughed, looking at me with meaning, her mouth shut, then letting it drop, and her eyebrows hitting the ceiling. I roared laughing, remembering how I arrived in the middle of the night, waking the whole house up.
‘No,’ I said, shaking me head. ‘Definitely not that. I won’t be making that mistake again.’
‘Come on then. Let’s get moving. You start the washing up, while I take this little scruffpot up and change him.’