Iflew along the convent passage, yanking open the heavy door with the stiff springs behind it, letting it shut by itself. Still running, I barrelled inta a gang of kids all milling around on the landing, shouting te each other. The noise of bags and suitcases getting clattered up the stairs, and more coming down from the top, and all the time screaming up te the ones on the landing, ‘Did you find my coat? Who took my bag?’ was overwhelming. The roars and banging coming from all directions, and others screaming out te each other from one end of the house te the other in the panic of leaving something behind, and the nervous excited laughter hit me as I slid inta a group of young ones sorting out their suitcases. Jaysus! It’s like O’Connell Street on a Sunday afternoon, when the culchies invade Dublin for a Gaelic football match.
‘Excuse me!’ I shouted. ‘Outa the way, please. Anyone see a nun around?’ I asked, talking te the walls, as no one was listening. ‘Sister Mary Ann Augusta! Mairead Causetello!’ I shouted up the stairs, me eyes flying around the faces, looking for someone from the middle group. ‘Sister Herod Mary? Poppy Ticks? Is anyone here from the Child of Prague group?’ I shouted, wanting te hurry back te the convent, knowing any minute now the people are going te start piling up te the door.
I looked around, searching the faces. ‘Me! I’m here!’ shouted a little one with short fair curly hair wearing a navy-blue wool coat, with a long red-and-white hand-knitted scarf wrapped around her neck, rushing over on brown laced-up leather boots and red tights. ‘That’s me! Wait for me!’ she panicked, dragging a little brown suitcase gripped in her two hands.
‘Hi, little Poppy!’ I said, bending down te her and looking inta her lovely sky-blue eyes. I could look at her for hours; she’s gorgeous, I thought te meself. ‘Where’s yer nun, Poppy?’
She looked around, saying, ‘Will I run down and find her, Martha?’ showing me the gap where her two front teeth were missing.
‘Ahh, no! I don’t want ye going missing.’ I lifted the silver gong, giving it one bang then four more, saying, ‘Let’s wait te see if she hears her gong. I bet I know what ye want from Santa Claus for Christmas!’
‘What?’ she giggled.
‘Yer two front teeth!’
‘No! I want a doll and pram!’ she roared.
‘Yeah! I’m only joking. Santa Claus has ye first on his list. Ye’re his favourite.’
The door whirled open behind me and a roar blasted inta me ear. ‘Is anyone minding the hall door? The convent is in uproar.’
I looked around at Sister Benedict standing in her black slippers, waving her arms through the crowd, trying te get over te me. ‘Martha Long! Stop this fustering at once and get up to the hall door this minute and sort out those unfortunate people you’ve left standing around in the freezing cold with the hall door wide open!’ she gasped out without stopping for a breath.
‘Right, Sister Benedict. I’m just looking for the nuns.’
‘What is it?’ Sister Eleanor moaned, hurrying up the stairs with a gang of young ones rushing up behind her and another lot pushing and shoving their way in front of her, desperate te get up the stairs and out the door. The noise suddenly increased te a deafening roar as a gang of young ones came down from Sister Mary Ann Augusta’s group, all excited, pushing their way onta the landing, and everyone was pressed up against the walls.
Sister Benedict screamed from the safety of the convent door, ‘The hall door is in uproar!’
‘What?’ shouted Sister Eleanor, trying te hear over the noise, creasing her face inta a crying look.
‘Uproar!’ shouted Sister Benedict, then disappeared, letting the door bang shut.
‘Are you there, Sister?’ shouted Sister Mary Ann Augusta herding down another lot from the middle group.
‘I’m here, Sister!’ shouted Sister Eleanor nervously up at Sister Mary Ann Augusta, who is in charge of all the groups and their nuns.
‘Sister Mary Ann Augusta!’ I shouted over the crowd. ‘The people are here for the children.’
‘Take them over! Jesus Christ Almighty!’ shouted Sister Herod Mary from the bottom of the stairs, looking up with her lot of little ones behind her.
‘Sister! My lady is here!’ shouted down Poppy te her nun.
‘Get over to the hall door,’ shouted Sister Mary Ann Augusta down te me, pushing her way down the stairs and flapping bodies outa the way with her arms out like she was swimming. ‘Who is here?’
‘People for Poppy, Sister, and one for you, Mairead Causetello!’
‘Fine! One of yours, Sister! For Poppy!’ she roared down.
Then Sister Herod Mary lowered her head and pulled up her habit and made a run inta the crowd of children stuck on the stairs in a bottleneck, screaming, ‘Get that bag out of the way! Get back down those stairs!’
Sister Mary Ann Augusta grabbed a hold of Mairead Causetello, shouting te Sister Eleanor, who was trapped over by the window, trying te sort out a mix-up with the suitcases, ‘Get them all off the stairs, please!’ and ran with Mairead, who was trying te keep up, dragging her suitcase with a nightie sticking out, and looking like she was going for good with the amount of teddies and a long ragged cloth doll trailing its blonde plaited wool hair along the floor.
Sister Herod Mary pushed past me, muttering, ‘God give me patience!’ and grabbed a hold of Poppy, making herself look like a bull about te do battle, with steam coming outa her nose. I could hear the air coming out through her nostrils. Her brown eyes looked inta the distance as she made a run for the convent passage. I took off running up behind her, trying te get past by running from side te side, but she blocked the passage and I had te slow down. The noise of chatter and laughter hit us as we rounded the corner going through the door inta the inner hallway.
The Reverend Mother was smiling and oohing and aahing, saying, ‘Yes! It is lovely to see you, too! Oh, how are you! Hello! You are very welcome!’ swinging her head from side te side with her arms hidden under her cloak, getting herself buried with the mound of people all crushed inta the hall and more outside on the top porch and down the steps. I could hear more cars whirring up the drive and doors slamming.
The Reverend Mother lifted her head above the crowd, trying te make room for the nuns pushing through with the two girls. ‘Have a lovely time! And be very good, won’t you do that?’ she said, lowering her head and keeping her back straight, talking te the two girls. Then she straightened her head up, her eyes landing on me with the smile still stuck te her face. I watched as it dropped suddenly inta a glare, with her eyes narrowing and her head shaking slightly, telling me I was in for it. ‘Martha!’ she shouted out, sounding very nice as her face curled inta a smile again. ‘Tell the Sisters to bring the children along.’
I raced off back down through the passages and on te the children’s landing, roaring at Sister Eleanor, who was roaring at everyone else te get back te their playrooms and wait until they were called.
‘No, Sister! The Reverend Mother said ye are te send them up now!’
There was a silence for a few seconds, then a stampede started. ‘We’re going! Hurry!’ And I was sent flying as bodies steamed inta me and charged down the passages.
‘Stop!’ screamed Sister Eleanor.
Nobody listened! There was a crush for a few minutes as they all got stuck in the heavy door with the springs, and kids heaved in and out, their faces getting red with all the effort. Then it gave, and a few bodies got through, and the rest spilled after them. They were off!
‘Really, Martha! How could you be so silly?’
‘What did I do?’ I roared, hating te get inta trouble with Sister Eleanor and always roaring back when she roars at me.
‘Jesus!’ she said, looking down the passage. ‘Someone is going to break their necks before we can even get them out the door!’
She took off like a giant bat, with her two hands grabbing a hold of her habit te stop herself tripping over the hem, with her black veil flapping out behind her, flying te catch up after the herd of kids hell-bent on getting up te the convent and getting outa here for their Christmas holidays.
I took off after her, hearing Sister James Teresa breathing heavily up behind me, dragging a load of babies and shouting after me te come and hold the door open.
‘Sorry, Sister!’ I grabbed hold of the door, watching as she rushed past carrying baby Louisa Ellen in her little red coat and matching hat with the black velvet rim around the edges.
‘Hello, sweetie sugar plum!’ I crooned, making a grab for her, trying te tickle her chin.
‘Come on! I haven’t got time,’ Sister James Teresa complained, huffing up the passage with a load of little legs trailing after her.
‘Me goin t’see Santy!’ little Alfie stopped te tell me.
I looked down at him standing in his little fisherman’s hat and his laced-up little brown boots, and laughed, ‘Yeah, Alfie! When ye go te sleep tonight, then when ye wake up, Santa Claus will have left loads and loads a toys and sweets for ye!’
‘Yeah!’ he said, listening te everything I had te say. Then he shook his head up and down, saying, ‘An I no wet me bed!’ looking very serious.
I took in a deep breath, looking down at him, saying, ‘Oh, I don’t know. But I think ye have te be the best, bestest boy in the whole wide world!’ widening me eyes and putting out me arms, showing him the world. ‘Aren’t ye?’
‘Yeah, Oi am!’ he said, shaking his head up and down.
‘Now hurry! Everyone will be waiting on ye. Let’s go!’ And I grabbed his hand and we set off with Alfie moving his little legs like propellers, but we were hardly moving at all; it was mostly the noise of me jumping up and down making it look like we were flying. Alfie looked up at me, laughing, his neck swinging back on his head, thinking this was great.
‘We’re here!’ I puffed, leaving him with Sister James Teresa as she came outa the parlour, seeing a young couple off with Louisa Ellen and grabbing Alfie, holding onta his hand and waving out the door at the people taking off with the babies.
I watched as the baby was carried over te a big black oldfashioned car and the husband held the door open while the lady stooped down with Louisa Ellen in her arms, then slid in along the green plush-looking leather seats, and the husband checked te make sure she was sitting in comfortably, then slammed the door shut. He rushed te the front of the car, grabbing hold of his long dark coat with a velvet collar flapping around his legs with the wind blowing up from the avenue, and wrapped it around his legs, whipping himself inta the driver’s seat, then started up the engine. The blonde lady gave a little wave back te the nuns, then turned her attention te the baby, smiling and holding her close te her chest and patting her back. Then the car turned slowly around the big entrance and purred off, gliding down the avenue.
There goes a happy lady, I thought, staring after the car. Poor Sister Mercy! She’s going te miss the baby. She lives for her. Every day after her dinner is over she comes tearing over from the convent te spend her recreation with Louisa Ellen down in the kitchen, staring and fussing and laughing with the baby at the slightest thing she does. Louisa Ellen’s face lights up at the sight of Mercy. Gawd! Poor thing! No, Martha! Don’t be mean.
I wandered over te the gong, hanging up the little silver one in its place on the little rope attached, and headed for the convent stairs, looking back as the last of the children went out the door and the group of nuns stood on the steps waving them off. ‘Goodbye now! Yes! Thank you,’ the Reverend Mother said, ‘and a very happy and peaceful Christmas to you, too!’
The place had grown quiet, and I felt meself feeling a bit flat. The children and the people had taken all the excitement with them. So! What now? I asked meself, wondering where I will fit meself in for the Christmas.
Sister Benedict came outa the chapel and rolled herself off te the convent. ‘Now we shall enjoy a lovely time of peace! Isn’t it wonderful?’ she stopped te say te me.
‘Yeah! Happy Christmas, Sister Benedict!’
‘And a Happy Christmas to you, too, Martha. Enjoy yourself! You earned it. My goodness, you worked very hard! Look at all the shine on everything. All the credit is due to you,’ she whispered, leaning inta me. ‘So go off and relax for yourself!’ Then she took off.
I turned, heading down the stairs and through the convent door inta the kitchen passage. The lovely smell of cooking and baking hit me straight away. Ah! Sister Mercy is helping out Sister Thomas by doing a bit of cooking in our kitchen. I wonder what’s te eat.
I hurried in, seeing Mercy pouring honey over a huge ham with cloves stuck inside the lumps of fat cut in crosses, and the whole thing was covered in brown sugar. She looked up, smiling at me! Yeah, I’m in luck!
‘Hello, Sister Mercy! Happy Christmas te ye!’
‘Ah, and a happy Christmas to you too, Martha. Go on! Your dinner is warming in the oven.’
‘Oh thanks, Sister. I’m starving!’
‘Was dere a big crowd up dere?’ she asked me, nodding her head te the convent.
‘Oh, indeed there was, Sister! It was like Amiens Street train station, the amount of coming and going.’
‘Ah, I hope everyone has a good Christmas,’ she said, smiling te herself, thinking as she wrapped the ham in tinfoil.
‘Yeah,’ I said, bending meself in two and sticking me head inta the oven.
I lifted out a big white plate covered with a pie dish and took off the cover looking at lovely roast meat with roast potatoes and cabbage and carrots and gravy – lovely! – the steam going up me nose, driving me mad with the hunger.
‘Dat’s a lovely bit of beef! Enjoy dat.’
‘Thanks, Sister!’ I said, heading outa the kitchen and up te the refectory. Then I turned back and headed inta the kitchen again. ‘Sister, can I take a jug of milk?’
‘Yeah! Take a jug and go out to the dairy and help yourself. Make sure yeh cover it with the muslin. Oh! You can help yourself to some a dem buns dere.’ She nodded over te the windowsill.
Me eyes whipped over te where she was pointing, landing on the tray with the mound of little buns with cherries. Cakes! And the steam is still coming outa them! Ah, gawd! All the birthdays I missed are coming in one day!
‘Dere’s some custard simmering warm over on the stove; pour some of dat over them.’
‘Thanks, Sister, this is fine,’ I said, struggling off with the hot plate in one hand and six cakes on a plate in the other, taking off quickly out the door before me luck runs out.
I hurried up te the refectory, dying te get me teeth inta the grub, and back again for a whole jug of milk, for meself, I hope. A body flew past me in a blur out the door as I walked in. ‘Sorry!’ it said, making me cakes wobble on the plate. I looked after her as she whirled around, swinging a brown leather suitcase. ‘Bye, Martha! Happy Christmas to you! Have a great time!’
Oh! She’s talking to me! ‘And a happy Christmas te you, too, Dilly! Be seeing ye after the holidays!’
‘Not if I see you first,’ she shouted, laughing her head off with the excitement of going away for the Christmas.
I rushed inta the empty refectory, having the whole place te meself. Ah! This is going te be lovely, I muttered, grabbing a knife and fork, me eyes never leaving the plate. I polished off the lot of the cakes and two glasses of creamy milk. Oh, I could polish off another dinner! That just got me started. I wonder if she needs any help down in the kitchen. Then I could help meself . . . Hm! Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead. Yeah! Better not chance me luck too far. Still, she’s not a bad aul soul when she has a mind te be.
I stood up, stretching, feeling the tiredness hitting me after the Christmas rush of all the cleaning and polishing and fussing. Gawd! It’s great having the Christmas. Nothing te do and all day te do it! I washed up me plates and glass and dried them, putting them back in their place on the long table, and wandered out, moseying up the passage and heading out the back door.
I looked over at the white frost still sitting on the playing fields and not a movement te be seen. It looked pretty desolate, and I wandered back in te the bit of heat. What heat? Compared te outside that is! The wind whipping up these passages would blow ye off yer feet sometimes. It’s pretty chilly now. Think I’ll look for somewhere warm and cosy te roast me arse. ‘Get off them heaters! You’ll give yourself chilblains!’ the big ones scream at ye when we sit on them. Then when ye move off, they jump on. Well, there’s not one going te complain now! I have the whole place te meself, by the looks of it, I thought, staring inta the middle group’s refectory. Gawd! It’s so empty. The room looks like it’s waiting; there’s a feeling of stillness, then it seems te collapse in on itself and go te sleep. The place is so different with all the kids gone. There’s nothing te look at and nowhere te go. Just empty rooms and silent passages, and yet I can still hear the voices of the children echoing in me head.
I wandered on, feeling a buzzing running through me, expecting something lovely te all happen. It’s Christmas Eve! And tomorrow will be Christmas Day! It’s still new te me, having a Christmas and a birthday. People wishing ye a happy birthday and knowing this is the day ye were born on! And knowing exactly what age ye are, instead of hearing outa the blue from the ma, when she’d say, ‘Eh, yeah . . . she’s goin on ten’, or, ‘She’s eleven now.’ An ye’d be left wondering when that happened! It wouldn’t occur te ye te say, ‘When’s me birthday, Ma?’ because dates didn’t come inta it. No, for the first time I was able te wake up and roar at everyone, ‘It’s me birthday today! I’m fourteen!’ And smile and listen te people wish me a happy birthday. I made sure te do the same thing this year. And stand in the refectory at teatime while everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ te ye, and end with: ‘You live in the zoo! You act like a monkey . . . And you look like one, too!’ And Sister Eleanor lowered her head, half laughing and half disgusted, saying, ‘Ahh, stop, girls! That’s not very nice.’ And listen te everyone laughing, including meself, because everyone gets a dose of that.
Yeah! And now it’s Christmas. And everyone is being very nice, and making huge preparations, and getting all excited, and wearing good clothes, and going off with people, and no work, and I’m wondering if I’ll get te go out te someone! That’s what I’m afraid te ask. Sister Eleanor hasn’t said anything yet. She said she’ll try, but I wonder if she doesn’t manage te get me someone, what will happen then? All the others kids are sorted, because they’ve been going te the same people for years. They call them their ‘ladies’, or their ‘godparents’. The problem is I’m just a blowin, and I have me family . . . they think! So they don’t really feel bothered about me, and I don’t push it . . . in case! I have the terrible feeling in the bottom of me heart that Sister Eleanor will send me back te them for Christmas! Especially after me little brothers and sisters have just gone home. That Reverend Mother wouldn’t think twice of sending me back te that aul bastard and the ma if she could get away with it! I think that’s what Sister Eleanor could be banking on. I could feel a rage starting up in me chest. They can go and fuck themself! I would rather walk the streets and be happy about it than even give a second thought te having anything te do with them two bastards! So whatever happens, they have two hopes of getting me te go with them: Bob Hope and no fucking hope at all! Yeah! Fuck that! I snorted te meself, walking on, me blood boiling with the thought of it. Because there’s no such thing as Christmas in that fucking kip with Jackser! I know it only too well. The sights, sounds and, above all, the smell of fear in everyone as we wait for it te end.
It’s just wakin up te the sound of footsteps passin the window, an the sound of new leather soles slappin along the pavement, or the clickin of new high heels, the woman takin little steps cos she’s afraid of breakin her neck as she minces her way along the footpath, disturbin the quiet of the empty Christmas streets, wit no traffic an everythin closed up. Everyone gettin up, wakin te the new day, ready te dive inta the result of their big preparations – their shoppin an their savin the money, an moanin about all the hard work it is, an . . . here they are! On the move te Mass in their new clothes, the first few early birds, wantin te make an early start. Then doors open an kids’ voices are heard, an they come flyin outa the house te try out their new little three-wheeler bikes with the flags hangin outa the handlebars, an ringin their new shiny bells. An young ones come staggerin down the path of their house, their legs goin in different directions, splittin themself in half on their new roller skates, tryin te balance themselves, the mammies and daddies shoutin at them te, ‘Come in an have yer breakfast! It’s gettin cold. And shut tha front door! Ye’re lettin out all the heat,’ an laughin, cos it’s great, an everyone is excited, an no one is gettin annoyed, cos there’s too much te look forward te.
Maybe the fightin will start later on tonight, when the dinner’s over an the relations arrive, bringin the drink with them te add te their own drink, an the arguments will start when they sit sprawled, lookin cross-eyed at each other with the too much drink taken, an start goin down memory lane. Then someone will remember who threw the last dig in a previous row one Christmas, when the argument got outa control. ‘And tha was the Christmas before last, I distinctly member tha! An you were the one tha started tha! An me poor brudder had te get six stitches at the back a his head! An we never forgot abou tha!’ Then the row will start all over again. The front door will fly open, an men will spill outa the house an onta the street in their stockin feet, staggerin aroun the road, shoutin, ‘Come on! Come on! Show ye’re a man! Put yer fists up,’ an the other fella roarin, ‘Hold me back! Let me at him! Mind me fuckin coat!’ An throwin his coat te the ground after whippin it off, cos he was goin te go in the first place, cos he wouldn’t stay where he wasn’t welcome!
And meanwhile Jackser spent the day from the early mornin walkin up an down wit his fists clenched, an runnin back te the winda, lookin out, an throwin the head back te us sittin on the manky floorboards feelin very afraid, cos he wouldn’t stay easy. ‘Fuck them! Fuck them! We don’t need any a tha stuff! Fuck them an their showin off,’ then puttin his fist te his chest sayin, ‘Ah! It’s only one day! It’ll soon be over.’ An we stare at the winda, watchin the light fade an the night creep in, an the lights go on in the houses across the road. We watch as they draw the curtains te just meet wit the Christmas tree in the middle, showin the Christmas lights blinkin on an off. An we begin te feel we can move now, soon. Outa this room an up the stairs, an inta the safety of our beds, cos the night has taken away the terrible time of Christmas.
Dear God! I don’t have te go through that again. No! Never again will I have te face that. I’m on me own now, and I can look after meself. I’m fifteen years old. I can get a job. I’m working here anyway. So I’m not going te even bother meself worrying about that! They can always tell me te go te them. But they can’t bleeding make me go!
Maybe they might bring me over te the convent refectory te have dinner with them! Ye never know! They might be feeling full a goodwill, especially if I’m the only one left. I wonder if I am? Then the picture of sitting with them eating the Christmas dinner started te hit me! Jaysus! I could see it all. I could be sitting with Ma Pius on one side a me and the Reverend Mother on the other! With Sister Benedict on the far side opposite, watching and passing remarks on me table manners. ‘Martha Long! Would you mind not putting me off my dinner with your disgraceful manners at the table!’
‘Pass the salt, please, dear Sister Mary Innocent,’ Sister Thomas might mutter in her quiet little voice.
‘Certainly!’ says Duck Egg, handing over the salt.
‘Isn’t the turkey just lovely! And the roast potatoes browned to a crisp and just the right colour,’ gasps Mercy on a mouthful of grub.
‘Oh, indeed they are! Thank God!’ whispers Sister Thomas. ‘Now what sort of fat did you use?’
‘Oh! The dripping from yesterday’s lovely bit of beef dat nice new butcher sent me up. Old Joseph is dead, you know.’
‘No! God rest his soul! Was it sudden? No one told me!’ Sister Thomas moans.
‘Oh, it was very sudden. He died on the job while serving poor Mrs Lamb from two doors up!’
‘No!’ gasps Sister Thomas.
‘Yes! He was handing over a parcel of black and white pudding, sausages and rashers for the weekend breakfast last Saturday . . . the week gone, I mean! I know all dis because Johnny Mack is a friend of our Larry the farmer, and he told me when he brought in the milk last Monday, I think it was. I was doing sausages for the tea, so it had to be Monday! Now, where was I? Oh yes! And he collapsed over a tray of sheep’s belly sitting in the glass case in front of him!’
‘Tut, tut!’ everyone gasps, all listening now.
‘Yes!’ pants Mercy, getting carried away now with all eyes on her. ‘And dat wasn’t the last of it!’
‘What! There’s more?’ the Reverend Mother gasps, grasping her chest, looking at Mother Pius, shell-shocked.
‘Shocking!’ agrees Ma Pius. ‘Utterly shocking!’
‘Go on!’ Mother Immaculate breathes, holding both hands te her chest now.
‘Yes! Poor Mrs Lamb . . .’ and she pauses te look around the table te make sure everyone is getting this, ‘collapsed inta a heap on top of the seasoned and spiced beef sitting on the counter waiting to be hung up, and had to be carried away in an ambulance with a suspected heart attack.’
A shocked silence hit the room, and then they all started talking about the terrible things that can happen so unexpectedly, it is sooo frightening.
‘Anyway, Sister Thomas, as I was saying! It works wonders for giving the taste and the colour.’
‘Hm! You’re a marvel, Sister Mercy,’ mumbles Sister Thomas. ‘I must give that a try with my Sunday dinners. For the potatoes, I mean.’
Then it would be silent again, except for the gnashing a teeth on the Brussels sprouts. Yuk! I hate them. Meanwhile, Sister Eleanor is at the other end of the table, keeping well outa the way, hoping the Reverend Mother doesn’t come down on her hot and heavy for letting me stay here in the first place and ruining the nuns’ Christmas dinner. They couldn’t have a proper gossip with me sitting there earwigging, ready te take everything back te the institution and let the world and his wife know their business. ‘No! It’s just not good enough now, Sister Eleanor!’
Hm! I have two hopes of sitting meself down with them for me Christmas dinner: Bob Hope and no hope at all! Ha! Thank God for that! Yeah, and if the worst comes te the worst, I can always enjoy meself sitting down te eating me Christmas dinner all on me own. Aaahh! Poor me. Ha, ha! I can enjoy meself no end tormenting the nuns about what a terrible Christmas I had. Yeah! After the Christmas, when they smile sweetly at me, enquiring, ‘Did you have a nice Christmas, Martha?’
‘Ah, it was all right, Sister. Lovely and peaceful.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ they’ll say ready te move on.
‘If ye can call sitting in the freezing cold eating yer dinner with no one te talk te except Tibbles, Sister Mercy’s cat. And the worst of it was, I don’t like cats. But I shared me turkey with her, because she was on her own, too.’ Sniff! Ha, ha, ha! That should be a great laugh!
Right! But come on, Martha, they might just turn around and say, ‘Well, wasn’t it a pity you didn’t go home to your poor mother, and she with a houseful of children. How did she manage without you?’ Ah, fuck that! I’m keeping me mouth shut.
Right! Enough of that! It’s time te enjoy yerself. Whatever happens, happens. It will be grand. Now! What am I doing? I looked around, finding meself on the children’s landing next te the convent passage. How did I get here with all me thinking? Will I go over and see if Sister Eleanor has any news about what’s going on? No, leave it for a bit. I’ll head off upstairs te the dormitory.
I took the stairs two at a time, wondering if anyone was around the house. I sprinted up first te the top of the house te put me head inta the little ones’ dormitory and looked around the room. All the beds were airing with the mattresses folded back and the blankets neatly folded on top, just leaving the wire springs exposed. Nope! Empty! Not a dickie bird. Right! I turned back down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and landed on me floor, rushing in through the dormitory, peeling me eyes around the little dormitory. Nope! Same here – beds all airing. Then flew inta the big one. I could hear music, and me heart lifted! I flew around by the little cubicles used for the big ones who are ready te gallop outa here and start living in the world, then stopped, clapping eyes on Ruthie lying sprawled on her belly listening te Sister Eleanor’s little transistor radio. She uses that for the people sick in bed, te keep them company and cheer them up. How did she get that? I felt a rush of heat going through me belly, feeling meself getting jealous. Huh! Eleanor wouldn’t give me that if I asked her. Still, I’m delighted te see somebody anyway.
‘How’re ye, Ruthie? Are ye sick or what? What’s happening? Are ye staying here for the Christmas?’ I asked her hopefully.
‘Oh, hiya, Martha. No, just taking it easy while I’m waiting for my godmother to collect me. She’s on her way, Sister Eleanor said, so I better start moving.’
‘Oh, so ye are going away for the Christmas?’ I said with me heart dropping inta me belly.
‘Yeah! Course I am! Who would want to stay in this place for Christmas? Why? Where are you going?’
‘Dunno,’ I said, collapsing me arse on the bed spring next to hers.
‘Have you not got something sorted out?’ she asked me, looking worried.
‘No, Ruthie. Nothing’s been said. Sister Eleanor said she will try te sort something out, but I’m still waiting.’
‘Ah, don’t worry yourself about it. You’ll get fixed up! They won’t let you stay here in the first place, because the nuns want the place cleared to give themselves a rest,’ she laughed.
‘Do ye think I’ll get te go out with a family, Ruthie?’ I asked her, feeling a bit of hope.
‘Course you will! Well, I hope so,’ she laughed again, then turned her head back to the magazine she was reading, looking very intent, not wanting to talk any more.
I sat staring around the room, listening te the song blasting out: ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’. I will if I get the chance! I moaned te meself, looking at all the empty black iron beds. Rows and rows of them, nobody needing them.
Everybody is all gone off somewhere te be with people who are happy te have them. With probably a warm house and lights and decorations and Christmas trees, and probably even a dog! I like dogs, but I’m a bit afraid of them. Me eyes swept around the empty room with the high windows looking out onta green fields. They are too high up te look out, unless you climb up onta the windowsill. But I could see the tall trees waving their naked branches in the wind, and it was really beginning te feel very desolate in here, and making me feel very empty.
I turned me head te Ruthie. ‘How did ye get the transistor radio, Ruthie?’ I said, throwing me eye on the radio, loving te get me hands on it! That would be great company! I thought te meself.
‘I asked Sister Eleanor for it,’ she said, making it sound so easy!
‘And she just gave it te ye?’
‘Yeah!’
‘Listen, can I borrow it when ye go?’ I asked, leaning inta her.
‘Sorry! I said I would give it straight back,’ she said, not looking at me, keeping her eyes on the magazine.
‘How’s school?’ I asked, knowing she was going te the secondary school because she is very brainy. Only a few of them go. The rest all go te the technical school.
‘Great! Great, Martha,’ she said, looking up at me.
‘What will ye be when ye leave school, Ruthie?’
‘Oh, I haven’t thought about it. I might try for secretarial college if the nuns keep me on. I will have to wait and see. Anyway, it’s easy to get a good job when you have the education.’
‘Yeah, I know! I’m hoping te do something, too, Ruthie! I’ve been working on me diction. And reading books.’
‘Yeah, I’ve noticed,’ she said, looking at me and smiling. ‘Your speaking voice is improving well. You should practise your th’s and always pronounce your endings. Ings and that kind of thing. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t do well, you’re very clever, Martha. I can see that. Never mind what the others say.’
Me heart lifted. ‘Ah, thanks, Ruthie! That’s very nice of ye te say that about me.’
‘No, it’s true,’ she said, shaking her head and going back to her reading.
‘What are ye reading, Ruthie?’
‘Oh, the problem page. The problems are very good. Listen to this one,’ she said, moving over in the bed, making room for me. I sat next to her, dropping me head down beside hers, and we both read. ‘Look at this one,’ she said pointing to one.
Dear Mabel,
I am a married woman and a Catholic mother of six children. My husband is a very religious man. He had thought of going forward to the priesthood, but I got in the way, so his mother never tires of telling me at every opportunity. She is sorely disappointed and tells me all the time she had great hopes for him becoming a priest and one day a bishop! Every night of their family life, when they went down on their knees to say the family rosary, they always ended with a prayer that Colm would become a very holy priest and one day make it as a bishop. I don’t think she has ever forgiven me for leading him astray, Mabel.
Now, Mabel, I have led myself astray. For the last four months I have been having an affair with another man! My husband knows nothing about this! I did not intend to let the affair get out of hand, but I found myself looking forward to our meetings. I told my husband I was attending the Countrywomen’s Association; I have been a member for years. His mother, my mother-in-law, first took me to one of the meetings. I loved it because it was an escape from the house, a change you might say, and I got lots of tips on making little garments for the babies, and nice knitting patterns, and lots of cooking recipes. Now, of course, I have missed these meetings for several months, as I have been meeting my lover at his bedsitter in Harold’s Cross.
Now, Mabel, I have just discovered to my mortal shame and horror I am pregnant. I know the baby is not my husband’s, because we have not been intimate since I took up with my lover! I have been telling my husband I suffer with migraines and the doctor suggests we abstain for a while because the excitement was bringing on the migraines.
My parish priest was also in favour of this course of action, because my husband told me he discussed this with him and it was OK to abstain for a short while to let me recover, as our last baby, we called him Columbanus, was only four weeks old anyway. He said I should not be allowed to get away with this for too long, because it was my duty to give my husband his conjugal rights! So now you see my predicament, Mabel! Even if I could pass the baby off as my husband’s, and there would be a remote possibility of that because as my mother-in-law proudly says, ‘My son is so manly he only has to hang his trousers on the end of the bed and you are gone again!’ I could cod him all right with the dates, say we must have gotten carried away at some stage, because here is the proof of the pudding! But unfortunately my lover is a student at the College of Surgeons; he is studying to be a doctor! And he is from Africa, a black man, so therefore the baby would be black. So now you see I can’t pass him off as my husband’s, as he has roaring red hair and very fair skin. He only has to look at the sun and his face burns bright red like a beetroot!
Please, Mabel, I hope you can solve my problem. Please tell me what to do! I am desperate. So much so, I keep looking out at the river. Our little cottage overlooks the river where my husband spends a lot of his free time fishing for trout with our two little boys. I have often thought of throwing myself in there, but the river is too low, and anyway I can swim. I have even thought about going to my mother-in-law’s house – she lives four miles down the road – and sticking my head in the oven. I would have to go there because we don’t have gas, only the Aga – I do all my cooking in that! The other problem about doing away with myself is that I might not get an opportunity of sticking my head in her oven and doing away with myself, because she wouldn’t leave me long enough in her kitchen. She’s very house-proud and watches you like a hawk in case you touch any of her things. So you see my predicament. I can’t even do away with myself. Please help!
Desperate housewife and Catholic mother.
We screamed our heads laughing and didn’t hear Sister Eleanor come creeping in the door. ‘Ruth O’Brien! What have you got there? Give it to me this instant!’ She sprang, whipping the magazine outa our hands, muttering, ‘Where did you get this?’ with her eyes flying along the page. Then turned and looked at us with her nostrils getting thinner as she took in deep breaths, sucking in her mouth and crossing her eyes te the floor, then looking up at the ceiling, shaking her head, looking more and more shocked by the minute. ‘Oh, girls! This is absolutely disgraceful stuff to be reading!’ she gasped, outa breath. ‘I absolutely forbid you to read this dreadful magazine again. Are you listening to me, girls?’
‘Yeah!’ we muttered, feeling annoyed at the loss, wondering what else we missed, not getting a chance te see what the answer was!
‘Now, come along quickly, Ruthie, the people are waiting for you up in the parlour. Ah, my God!’ she said, looking and sounding like she was in pain, twisting her face. ‘You are not even ready yet. Come on, come on!’ she said, grabbing hold of Ruthie and pulling her offa the bed. ‘You are not even ready, and look! You have not even prepared your bed! It has to be stripped and the mattress folded back to allow it to air.’
‘I’m ready, Sister Eleanor! Don’t fuss. Look,’ she said, pointing beside her locker, ‘my case and everything is ready. All I have to do is put on my coat.’
‘Come on, then,’ she said, picking up the suitcase and grabbing Ruthie and her coat and pulling her out the door. ‘Martha!’ she called te me over her shoulder. ‘Would you be a good girl and strip Ruth’s bed and bring the sheets down to the laundry. You will see the basket just inside the door. Drop them into that and don’t forget to fold the mattress back.’
‘OK,’ I said, feeling the life go outa me watching Ruthie taking off. Then I raced after her. ‘Sister! Sister Eleanor! What about me?’ I called te her back as she flew out the door. I whipped after her, tearing out the door, and shouted down the stairs, ‘Have ye found anyone for me?’
‘Oh, what am I going to do about that child?’ I heard her mumble te herself.
‘Sister! What’s happening?’ I shouted, getting desperate.
She looked up at me just before going through the convent door. ‘I’ll be back,’ she nodded up te me.
I dropped me shoulders, wandering back inta the dormitory, and headed over te strip Ruthie’s bed. I put the sheets inta the pillowcase and folded the blankets onta the mattress, me eyes wandering over te me bed. I’ll strip me own down; as Ruth said, there’s not much chance of me being left here for the Christmas, and I felt meself lifting a bit with the thought.
I headed outa the dormitory, carrying the two pillowcases with the sheets, and down te the laundry te drop them in the basket. I didn’t know what te do with meself next. So I wandered back along the empty passage feeling tired and restless. Me head was beginning te pain me. Jaysus! That’s the last thing I need! It’s all the worrying. I should take it easy and forget about everything, but I was beginning te feel very annoyed. Fuck them nuns! Especially that Eleanor one! She didn’t bother her arse te even giving me one thought, but she’s not too busy te fuss about the rest of them. I wanted te scream at someone . . . her! . . . and cry, because even though I’m big I still want someone te take me out. All the rest of them have gone! And the ones in me group, most of them are a lot older than fucking me! And they’re not sitting here keeping me company, wondering if they’re going te go somewhere.
My eyes flew around, looking for something te give a kick, and landed on the coat rack holding all the coats. I gave it an unmerciful kick, sending it flying against the sports stuff sitting in a big bin. All the racquets and tennis balls and hockey sticks and everything else went flying in all directions, the balls rolling down the passage! ‘Now! Hmph! Fuck you, Ellie baby! Fucking fucker!’
I stared at the mess, snorting and flapping me shoulders up and down, feeling a vicious sense of satisfaction, making te walk away. Ah, fuck! Now look what I’ve done! ‘Martha, ye’re a right eejit. A complete gobshite,’ I muttered, as I went after the rolling balls and picked up the coat rack, standing it up and putting the coats back.
Right! Me eyes peeled around, making sure everything was back in its place. Anyway, she would have known ye did it, so take it easy, I thought te meself as I took in a deep breath through me nose. I feel like shouting just for the fun of it. There’s no one here te hear me. That’s not a good idea. Sister Eleanor might come up behind ye and get ye carted off te have yer head examined.
I could hear noises coming from our playroom as I passed. I turned the handle wondering if there was someone still here. No – empty! It’s the big radio! Sister Eleanor must have forgotten te take it away. She never leaves it here! That’s used te bring the music lovers te their knees, getting them promising best behaviour for the next ten years! Then she rations the loan. ‘You may have it for one hour! And if I hear it outside this room . . .’ she says, wagging her finger warning them. ‘Don’t touch those knobs. I want it left at that sound!’
‘Is she gone?’ they ask each other, then turn it up full blast, while one half of the girls start dancing with each other cheek te cheek.
Sister Eleanor goes mad when she sees that! ‘You couldn’t get a pin between you!’ she roars, separating them, puffing out her annoyance, looking very shocked. While the other half stand in here hugging the radio, swearing undying love for whoever happens te be singing.
Well, it’s all mine now. I rushed in, flopping meself down on the sofa, then swung me legs around with me shoes still on, slapping them down on her sofa, because we’re not allowed te do that. She’d go mad if she saw me! Pity she’s not here. I could drive her mad!
I felt meself going off inta a doze, with Bing Crosby singing, ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas. Just like the ones I used to know.’ I hummed along, dreaming of someone coming te collect me in a big car, with a white fur coat and white leather boots te match. Telling me, ‘I just knew you would look lovely in this, my dear! My husband and I wanted to buy a nice gift for an orphan this Christmas, and we especially wanted an older girl, because, frankly, my dear, we couldn’t be doing with a small baby! Well, our children are all grown up now, and we want to share our Christmas, but not that much!’ Then she looks up at her husband and smiles sweetly, ‘Isn’t that right, Frankie, darling?’
‘Whatever you say, my sweet,’ he croons back at her. Then they rush me out the door te spend the Christmas in some big swanky house with an avenue up te it! Amen! That’s me prayer, God! But I’ll settle for an old lady from the village coming up on her bicycle, telling me, ‘We’ll have a lovely Christmas, dear, you, me and the cat. I’m so glad I found you, now I won’t be alone for Christmas, and neither will you!’
Yeah, there’s only too many lonely people out there; it’s just a question of one of us making the first move and we’ll find each other! Anyone want . . . sniff . . . an orphan for Christmas? Well, not really an orphan. I have a ma. Well, sort of . . . I had a picture of meself walking up and down the village with a placard swinging around me neck. ‘Get yer orphan for Christmas; only one left!’ I could shout, sounding like the aul dealers on Moore Street around Christmas time, shouting their lungs out: ‘Get yer Cheeky Charlies! Only the one left! D’ye want it, love?’ Shaking it hopping up and down on a string in yer face. Not te me, though! They knew I was a robber. One look at the state a me told them that.
‘Aaaah!’ I started te roar, wanting te hear the sound of me own voice. Jaysus! I’m not sitting around any more. I jumped up, heading for the door, shouting, ‘Sister Eleanor!’ knowing she couldn’t hear me, but I wanted te feel I was doing something.
‘Martha! Are you there?’ Sister Eleanor breathed, suddenly appearing in the door.
‘Aahh! Jaysus! Sister Eleanor! Ye gave me the fright of me life,’ I puffed, outa breath.
‘Oh, really,’ she said, squinting her face at me in a half laugh, and the other half in pain. ‘Don’t take the name of the Lord in vain.’
‘No, sorry, Sister! Whadid ye want me for?’ I asked in a rush, getting meself all excited.
She breathed, swallowing down her spit, and put her hand te her chest trying te get a breath.
I waited, watching her, holding me breath!
‘I got a call! A last-minute call just came in now! A family want an older girl; they have a young girl your age, and I’m delighted! To be honest, Martha,’ she said, whispering inta me and holding her chest, ‘I didn’t hold out much hope of getting anyone at this late stage. All the calls coming in were for younger children, mostly tots. So you must be blessed!’
‘Yippppppeeeeeeee! Oh thanks, Sister! Ye’re the best in the world! When am I going?’ I flew out the door then back in again. ‘Where am I going? When are they coming? Where do they live?’ I couldn’t get a breath; me head is flying!
‘Take it easy! Now go and pack, and be ready. They won’t be here for an hour or so.’
‘Pack! Pack what, Sister Eleanor? I only have me one set a good clothes.’
‘Yes, of course! Pack them, and don’t forget to pack your night things.’
‘Me nightdress, right!’ I took off, flying up te the dormitory, then flew back down again, catching her making it out the convent passage. ‘Sister! I need a suitcase!’
‘Oh, darling! Find something to put your stuff into. I don’t think we have any suitcases left.’
‘What?’ I shouted.
‘Shush! You will disturb the nuns in the chapel.’
‘I have te have a suitcase, Sister. I’m going away on me holidays, amn’t I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I have te have a suitcase, then!’
‘Oh dear God!’ she moaned. ‘I’ll see what I can find.’
‘Thanks, Sister.’
Then I took off again, dying te put me stuff inta a suitcase. It makes me feel I’m really going somewhere! I always wanted te feel respectable. That’s what ye bring on yer holidays when ye go away. Anyway, everybody else got te bring one; I’m not going te be left out! I snorted te meself. Even if I have te rob one. From where? There’s none left! Fuck! I hope she manages te find me one.
I rushed up te the dormitory and went flying in and threw open me locker, looking in. Right! Me best clothes. I took out me new maroon wool skirt with the wide belt, and the pink polo neck jumper te match. I lifted them gently onta the bed and folded the skirt the way Sister Eleanor taught me te; it stops the clothes getting creased. The first things I ever bought meself with my own hard-earned money! I didn’t have te rob it! That still makes me happy, the thought of it. I got more satisfaction outa that than if I had managed te rob the whole shop! Yeah!
I only wear them on Sunday, going te Mass, when everyone shows off their good clothes. The fuckers snigger behind their hands when I arrive in the chapel. They say I have no taste! ‘Psst! Look at that gom! The big eejit Martha Long! You can’t wear pink with maroon!’ they spit.
I spent ages, week after week, every Sunday after Mass, running te Sister Eleanor, asking her did me clothes look well on me or not.
‘Yes, of course they do!’
‘And do they match, Sister Eleanor?’
‘Yes! Why wouldn’t they?’ she said the first time. Until finally she lost her rag and didn’t want te hear any more about it! ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ she roared, waving her head up and down. ‘You look very nice, very nice! Don’t be minding what those girls say to you. They are very bold, and they can be very nasty!’ she said, squinting her eyes.
So now I don’t bother. That was months ago. She was right. They got fed up tormenting me, and now I can enjoy wearing me lovely best Sunday clothes, the first things I ever bought meself!
I sighed happily, thinking about all that as I packed them nicely on the bed, putting me nightdress on top. I wonder if she has any more of them new pyjamas left? The Reverend Mother ordered them from Clerys for us, and there was a huge run on them when Sister Eleanor went te her press that she keeps locked up and started handing them out. Jaysus! The news flew around the group in no time. The big ones – overgrown eejits! – came barrelling in, getting themselves two and three pairs, confusing Sister Eleanor, whose eyes were swinging around in her head, trying te keep track of who got what and who didn’t get any. As usual, I was trying te be on me best behaviour and stand back waiting patiently. Until she said that was the last of them, and the rest of us went mad. With me shouting the loudest!
‘I am not going to get into a row now this minute with anyone,’ she said, locking her press, giving us a quick look at the top shelf where she keeps her big cardboard box of sweets, and rations one or two out every now and then. ‘I have to run to the convent. I am late, but I will see to the end of it when I come down! Now please move out of my way.’
We screamed after her all the way te the convent, not caring we were going te be punished. Telling her she only gives stuff te her favourites and we hate this place! Later on, when she couldn’t get the stuff back – the big eejits had hidden them – Sister Eleanor informed us that when they turn up at the laundry she will count them and put them back in her press and give them out fairly te everyone. So we have te be satisfied with that. Yeah, well, I am going te rush over te the convent and look for her when I’m ready, or ask her when she brings me suitcase. I’m entitled te a pair of them pyjamas. Especially now I’m going away on me holidays. Gawd! I hope she manages te find me one of them suitcases. It would really make me Christmas, seeing meself going off in style!
‘Are you ready, Martha?’
I jumped up off the side of me bed, after being sitting on the bed springs waiting patiently. Me bed was folded and me face washed, and I had put on me Pond’s cold cream that I keep for special occasions, and I’d brushed me teeth and even brushed down me wool grey skirt and navy-blue jumper. I was wearing me second set of good white knee socks and gave me brown flat shoes a good polish. I’d love high heels, but I’ll have te wait for them. Maybe sometime when I get more money. But I certainly gave these shoes a good polish, I thought, looking down, admiring the shine. I even had a look around for something nicer when I was in the shoe room. But no fear of that! If there was, they didn’t stay there long. The big eejits would have got their hands on them straight away.
‘Where are you, Martha?’ Sister Eleanor was muttering even before she laid eyes on me coming through the small dormitory. I picked up my green gabardine coat with the belt. It looks a bit worn for wear now, greasy along the sleeves, I thought, looking at it. I was the first te grab it when Sister Eleanor held it up, asking if anyone wanted it. ‘It’s in perfect condition,’ she said, telling the others all laughing their heads off at the idea of wearing a school coat.
‘I want it, Sister Eleanor!’ I said, grabbing it and holding it up te meself. It fitted grand. I always wanted te wear a school uniform. People might think I’m going te the secondary school wearing that. Yeah, I loved it; it has a belt. I still like it. I wonder if I can get it cleaned?
I put my coat on and grabbed up my suitcase. Suitcase? I looked down at it still wondering. ‘This is all I could find, Martha,’ she said, rushing in with an old battered case tied up with a brown leather belt.
I stared at it.
‘It came over from the convent, Martha,’ she whispered, watching me staring at it. ‘It belonged to one of the nuns.’
The leather was long worn away and what was left was peeling off. It looks like a box more than a suitcase. But it has lots of stickers on it, saying, ‘White Star Shipping Lines’, and places it travelled te, like China, Zambia, the Far East! Gawd! It’s been all around the world!
‘I’ll take it,’ I said happily. I hope no one laughs at me. Fuck them. I like it!
‘Oh, there you are! Come along, Martha. The people are waiting up in the parlour for you,’ she said, taking my arm and rushing me out the door, smiling and sounding very happy.
Me heart was going mad with the excitement. I’m going te be staying with a family! Getting outa here! Oh, God! Thank you for looking after me!
I rushed along the convent passage with Sister Eleanor flying ahead of me. Her leather belt hanging on her hip, with her rosary beads tied te it, was clacking like mad, and her habit was swinging out and her veil flying, and I’m thinking she’s rushing te do something for me. Normally she’s rushing about on someone else’s behalf and wouldn’t have much te be doing for me. But now it’s my turn. I’m getting fussed over! And someone is waiting for me in the parlour. Little ole me! They just want me! I can’t believe it!
I slowed down when I got just outside the door, feeling a bit shy. Maybe they might be disappointed! They might not like me . . .