‘Quickly, Martha, we are being flooded!’ Sister Eleanor panted, rushing inta the playroom and dropping her hands on her knees, trying te get a breath. ‘Get down to the kitchen passage and help. Hurry!’ she flapped, dragging me te me feet and looking around te see who else she could get her hands on.
‘Hurry! Run!’ she panicked, shouting te the ones flying out the door, going in the opposite direction te where the flooding was. ‘No, not that way, girls, down here,’ she shouted ‘To the kitchen passage,’ she pointed, looking back, seeing them all running te get away from her. ‘Stop this minute, girls. I forbid you to run off!’ she roared, turning and making a run at them. But she was talking te the air. They disappeared down the end of the passage and around the corner. ‘Oh, they are very bold,’ she moaned, turning her head te me and screwing up her face like she was going te cry. ‘Now, would you credit that? I ask them to do something for me and they have all suddenly found something to keep them busy. Such mean girls. No sense of generosity whatsoever.’
‘No,’ I agreed, thinking I hope she doesn’t expect me te clear it all on me own. ‘Where is the flood, Sister?’
‘Yes, come on,’ she said, remembering she still had me, and her face lit up with that happy thought.
We rushed down through the passages, seeing the water floating around the stone passage at the top of the back kitchen door. People were slopping through the water in the dull light with buckets and mops, trying te make out if they were getting the better of it and looking te see if the level was going down. I could smell the damp and see the grey mist from the water floating around in the air.
Sister Mercy was bent in two over a bucket, squeezing out a mop, and turned her red face in our direction, trying te stand herself up straight. ‘Oh, come on, come on. Good girl’ she said te me, happy with a bit of help and forgetting all about me previous run-in with her over getting her kitchen demolished. Thank God I never heard another word about that.
‘Here, take dis mop and try te dry up the floor. Sister, is dere any more children about?’
‘Oh, I’m trying to round them up, Sister Mercy, but they all seemed to have vanished!’
‘Vanished, me eye,’ snorted Sister Mercy, kicking out her sopping boots, trying te shake the water outa them, like a dog shaking its leg after a good piss.
I stared at her fat legs covered in black tights with her habit pinned up around her waist showing nearly up te the calf of her legs.
‘We’d better go, I suppose,’ muttered Sister Eleanor te Mercy in a nervous whisper, feeling embarrassed because Mercy knew the girls were making a fool of her.
‘Yes, Sister, we’d better get going up to the chapel; we’ll be late for prayers,’ mumbled Mercy, looking back at Loretta and me, saying, ‘The girls will manage now. I think it’s under control,’ throwing her eye along the passage at the inches of water lapping around our feet.
I grabbed the mop, swirling it around in the water and squeezing it out in the bucket. ‘How did all this water get in here, Loretta?’
‘How do you think? It came rushing in the back door when the storm started.’
‘Yeah, but the drain must be blocked outside,’ I said, looking at the sacks all piled against it.
‘Yeah,’ she grunted, bending down te squeeze out the mop. ‘You’re welcome to go outside in that torrential rain and take a look,’ she laughed.
‘Jaysus! That’s some storm,’ I said, listening te the rumble of the thunder, then an unmerciful explosion, sounding like a bomb had landed on the convent. I could see yellow flashes coming in through the keyhole, and it made me nervous. ‘Jaysus! It really is getting bad, Loretta, do ye hear that rain? I can see the lightning through the keyhole. Do ye think we might be struck by lightning, Loretta, standing in this water?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, standing up and looking at the thick heavy door. ‘If we are, we won’t know anything about it,’ she laughed. ‘But I wouldn’t worry about it, Long, it’s hard to kill a bad thing.’
We pushed the mop through the water and squeezed, and bent and mopped and squeezed, and straightened and dragged the heavy tin bucket down te the kitchen and emptied it. Until me back seized up and we collapsed our backs against the wall, seeing the shiny wet on the stone floor. But the lapping water was now gone, down the sink and back inta the drains, and making its way down the Liffey and back out te sea, waiting te be sucked up again by the sky and start the whole thing all over again. I learned that stuff in one of the other girl’s geography books, deciding te find out what geography was all about.
I snorted in me breath, feeling me chest lighten with the air flying out again, and said, ‘Will we get going again, Loretta?’
‘Yeah! Ellie is going to have a hard time getting me out of the bed in the morning; you can all go and whistle for your breakfast,’ she said, throwing her back off the wall and making a move for the mop and bucket.
The convent door at the end of the passage opened and a pile of nuns came rushing down. ‘Oh, you got it cleared, girls,’ the Reverend Mother said, smiling at us and daintily stepping through the damp floor, making sure the hem of her habit didn’t touch the ground.
‘Oh, I see you have my girl here, Sister Eleanor,’ sang Mother Pius, laying her hand on me shoulder and inspecting the floor.
‘Yes, Mother,’ whispered Sister Eleanor, looking nervously at me, wondering if Ma Pius might have a go at her over the lazy good-for-nothing girls in her group who never seem te do anything around the house.
‘Can we open this door now, Sister Mercy?’ asked the Reverend Mother, swinging her head around and wrapping her arms inside her cloak.
‘We could, Mother! But the rain . . .’
‘Hm! Perhaps you are right. Best leave it to morning. Then we can get Mr Riddle to look at it. It is probably the drains, Sister, they must be blocked with leaves. Yes, well,’ she said, swinging her head te look at Loretta and me, then down at the state of us, covered in wet dirty water, our hair plastered te our heads from the sweat. ‘Well done, girls. I am very pleased you managed to get it under control!’
‘Yes, of course. With Martha here, you can always rely on a job well done,’ said Ma Pius, laying her hand on me head, smiling and giving me her blessing.
‘My Loretta is a wonderful worker,’ croaked Mercy, shaking her head at Loretta, getting very annoyed no one mentioned her, so in turn was insulting Mercy.
‘Yes, well done, girls,’ Ma Pius said, sweeping past me, holding up her habit, with the rest of them following. I tried te get outa the way, and stand back te let them pass, but I lost me balance, putting out me hand, stretching it against the wall, and me fingers shot up in the air and I felt a crack, and an unmerciful pain shot through me arm. ‘Aah!’ I muttered te meself, grabbing me arm and holding me hand. The pain was red-hot, and I held on waiting for it te pass. It didn’t. The pain just kept going on, and I shook me arm trying te ease it.
‘Come on, girls, leave it now,’ said Sister Eleanor, putting her hand on our backs and heading us off. ‘It’s time you went to bed. Thank you so much for all your help. You were both very good.’
‘Sister! Me hand is paining me.’
‘What?’
‘I hit it against the wall,’ I said, lifting it up te show her.
‘Come on,’ she said, looking and seeing nothing. ‘It will be fine. You both need to go to bed. Here! Let us put these buckets back.’
I held onta me arm, not moving, letting her fuss and grab the buckets, taking off for the kitchen with them.
‘Gawd! That Ma Pius one thinks the sun shines out of your arse, Long,’ Loretta said, looking very annoyed at me.
‘Yeah, and Mercy thinks the sun shines outa yours. So there’s a pair of them in it.’
‘Still and all, I’d prefer to have Mercy any day. I get to eat all the goodies that you lot don’t even see.’
I wasn’t in the mood te argue, but I still said, ‘Yeah, but Ma Pius controls the money, and she’s close te the Reverend Mother.’
‘Huh! You’re welcome to her. That one talks like she has a mouthful of marbles.’
‘Yeah, well, ye can always get yer hands on a bit a grub, but it’s not easy te get anywhere unless ye know the right people,’ I snorted. ‘She has gotten me outa many a trouble! In this life, Loretta, it’s not what you know but who you know gets you around. I learned that a long time ago,’ I said, thinking how everyone leaves me alone; even the Reverend Mother backs off, though she can’t stand the sight of me.
‘Yeah, well, you have very grand ideas about yourself, Long. You talk like you’d swallowed the dictionary. It’s all because you’re an awful noticebox,’ she sneered, laughing at me.
Say what ye like, Loretta, I don’t care, I thought, keeping me ideas te meself about wanting te get on in life. Anyway, me bleeding hand is killing me.
‘Come on, let’s get moving before they find something else for us te do.’
‘They can go and have a good shite for themselves,’ Loretta snorted, heading up the passage.
I made me way down along the passage while she headed up te the dormitory. I pushed open the door of the nursery and crept in, seeing the nightlight on, and made for me bed in the corner. Thank God they’re all asleep. I looked over at the little ones sleeping soundly, and went over, trying te lift little Arthur’s head back inta the bed; he was hanging out. My right hand was killing me with the pain; it wasn’t easing, just getting worse. I went over and sat down on the side of me own bed and looked at me hand. The fingers are curling up and I can’t straighten it out.
‘Are you all right?’ Sister Eleanor whispered, tiptoeing inta the room and looking around at all the little ones snoring softly. ‘Get into bed now like a good girl,’ she said, looking at me holding me hand.
‘I can’t sleep with the pain of this,’ I puffed, holding out me hand.
‘Let me see,’ she said, staring at it. ‘What can I do, Martha? It will be grand in the morning. Go on, get into bed and try to get some sleep.’ Then she was gone, listening te me keening softly with the pain.
I tried te undress with me left hand and I couldn’t get the wet frock over me head. I felt like roaring me head crying, with being tired and wet and the pain in me hand. But I just struggled, wrestling with the frock, using me right hand limply, trying te hold one side and pull with the other. I got inta me nightdress and under the covers when Sister Eleanor came rushing back with a roll a plaster. ‘Here! Put that on,’ she said, looking at me hand. ‘Which finger is it?’
‘No! That won’t do any good, Sister. It’s not bleeding. It’s just paining me.’
‘Come on, it might help.’
‘There! It’s that finger, the one next te me little finger.’
She lifted it, making me sob out a cry, the pain was so bad when she moved it.
I curled up on me left side, nursing me right hand in me lap, and tried te forget the splitting pain, and dozed off te sleep.
I woke up with Sister Eleanor shaking me and lifting me hand. It was swollen very badly, looking all purple and curled inta a fist, looking three times its normal size. ‘Oh, you will have to go to hospital with this,’ she said, saying quickly, ‘I have to take that plaster off.’
‘No! Ye can’t, Sister. Ye can’t! The pain will kill me.’
‘I have to, Martha,’ she said, looking at me with a very shifty look on her face.
‘No! I’m not letting anyone touch me hand,’ I said, meaning her.
She was out the door and back in a flash with a pair of scissors, and taking me hand trying te lift the fingers, with me screaming and she trying te cut away at the plaster. I gritted me teeth and let her get it over with, thinking she must not want the hospital te see she put a bleeding plaster on for a pain in the hand. Fuck her! It really hurts, and why was she bloody messing? I suppose it was me own fault wanting her te do something, and she thought she was helping me.
‘After breakfast, Miss will take you down to the hospital, so get ready, pet,’ she said.
We got off the bus and walked inta the hospital, sitting on the wooden bench just outside the door of the Casualty department. ‘Now, you sit here for a second while I go and knock on the door,’ Miss said, making for the open door inta the clinic.
She gave a little tap on the door and the nurse turned around, looking at her while rolling a bandage on a man’s leg. ‘Be with you in a minute,’ she shouted. ‘Nurse Roche!’
‘Yes?’ a fair-haired nurse said, looking around from stacking shelves with boxes a stuff.
‘Patient waiting for you.’
‘Yes, what’s the problem?’ she said, looking at Miss, standing and smiling at her, coughing and blinking, her mouth working up and down trying te get herself talking. The nurse looked over at me, holding me bad hand in me other hand resting on me lap.
‘This is Martha. She had an accident with her hand.’
‘Ohh, that’s looks bad,’ she said, lifting it and gently examining it. ‘Come along in and we’ll get the doctor to look at that. Sit down there,’ she said, putting me sitting up on the high bed with the white sheet covering the brown rubber on the mattress.
Miss stood beside me and we waited, staring over at the other man getting his leg dressed. ‘He has ulcers on his leg, the poor man,’ whispered Miss te me.
He watched the nurse very carefully wrapping yards of bandage the length of his leg, then looked over at us, smiling. ‘Tha’ll keep me goin for a while,’ he croaked in a hoarse voice, sounding like he had been roaring for a long time with the pain of it. ‘The pain does be somethin shockin,’ he said, gettin outa breath with the thought of it.
‘Oh, there’s nothing worse,’ the nurse said in a loud voice, giving him plenty a sympathy.
‘Old age is a terrible thing,’ he said, shaking his head, looking very sorrowful. ‘
No, there’s nothing worse,’ the nurse said, holding the leg with one hand, then grabbing the scissors and dropping his leg on the stool, and the man let out a roar. ‘Oh, sorry, pet! Sorry! Did I hurt you at all, you poor thing?’ she said, lifting the leg and rubbing his foot, the only part ye could get at.
‘Ah, it’s all right,’ he smiled, looking very brave. ‘Sure, if I’m not used te it be now!’
‘Oh, you’re a great old soldier, so you are; there’s no doubt about that!’ she said, looking at the two of us, and landing her eyes at the Miss, who coughed and blinked and shook her face and smiled, agreeing with the nurse, who dropped her scissors te pull at the cap on her head and take out the white hairclips, then hold them between her teeth and fix her long hair trailing out from beneath her cap, and pin it up again, fixing the cap straight on her head, then went back te the business of fixing the man up. ‘Now, all done,’ she said, standing herself straight up.
The doors swung open and a doctor came flying inta the room, skating te a stop in the middle of the floor and swinging his brown floppy hair around, landing his face on me. ‘So, what have we here?’ he shouted, lifting up me hand. He whistled out through his teeth, ‘My, my! That’s a nasty one. How did you do that?’ he said, looking down at me and holding me hand gently.
‘I banged it against the wall,’ I said.
His face changed inta a frown, and he said, ‘When did this happen?’
‘Last night,’ I said, looking at him turning his head and getting very annoyed.
‘Why did you not bring this child in when it happened?’ he roared at Miss, glaring at her, watching her trying te think.
‘She’s a convent child, doctor. I’m the staff there. Sister told me to take her down this morning,’ she trailed off, looking down at me hand then back up te the doctor.
‘That is downright negligence. Look at it! She should have been brought here sooner. It will have to be X-rayed. But I can see straight away there is a break in that hand. We need to see how bad it is.’ He shook his head, looking very annoyed. ‘You know we won’t be able to put that in plaster of Paris! That is a terrible state of affairs. It should be bound in plaster of Paris! Now all we can do is wrap it. It is too badly swollen!’ Then he marched off, shaking his head in annoyance.
I felt sorry for the poor Miss, standing there wringing her hands, not knowing what te say or do. It’s not her fault, I felt like saying, feeling very annoyed with the nuns and very sorry for meself, and feeling sick with the bloody pain. But I decided it would be best te keep me mouth shut. I might do more harm than good. I smiled up at Miss, saying, ‘Ah, don’t worry, Miss, sure it’s not your fault.’
She nodded te me, looking very worried, but saying nothing either.
‘Nurse! Take this child down to X-ray.’
‘Right, doctor. What’s your name, pet?’ the blonde nurse said, smiling at me, taking me arm and bringing me along a corridor and inta a big room with machines all over the place. ‘Now, love! Just try to keep your fingers out like that,’ she said, picking me fingers out one by one and stretching them.
‘No, no! I can’t,’ I said, staring at me hand, like a big claw, trying te keep me fingers from curling inta a fist again.
‘I won’t be long,’ she shouted, leaving me hand on a table underneath a big machine, while she ran te another one, shouting, ‘Good girl, just one more, we won’t be a second, hold it!’
‘No! Sorry, aaah! Me hand!’ I cried, lifting me hand and crying with the pain. I felt worn out and couldn’t take any more of it.
‘Aaah! We’ll have to leave it. I won’t be able to do any more with it. It’s too badly swollen’, she said, lifting me hand and taking me outa the room. ‘I got enough for the doctor to look at. You were wonderful,’ she said te me, stroking me back and handing me over te the nurse waiting outside the door. ‘It’s too badly bruised and swollen,’ she said te the nurse. ‘Hang on and I’ll get you the X-rays,’ and she was gone, then back in a minute, handing over the X-rays, and we made our way back te the clinic.
The doctor put them up on the wall and switched on a light and examined them, saying, ‘Yes, she has chipped a piece of bone at the top of the finger close to the knuckle. There’s nothing we can do now,’ he said, shaking his head, holding the X-ray in his hand. ‘It should, as I have said, be put into plaster of Paris. But now all we can do is put it in a splint and give support, using a sling around her neck. You are going to be in pain for quite a while until it starts to heal,’ he said, looking down at me.
I shook me head, feeling sick from the pain. All I wanted te do was lie down and get a good sleep and have no pain.
We left the hospital and stood at the bus stop waiting for a bus te come. I looked down at me hand, completely covered in a white bandage with a splint underneath te keep the fingers together. And kept me arm still, wrapped inside a white sling. It had been agony when the nurse was trying te put the splint on, and the doctor gave me a tablet for the pain. But it wasn’t doing me any good. At least I have it wrapped now, and if I keep it very still the pain only whines, not screams.
‘Stand back from the edge,’ Miss said, pulling the sleeves of me green school coat and pointing at the running water flowing along the side of the road, with sweet papers and rubbish all getting carried along rushing for a shore that wasn’t blocked. I stood back, staring down the road inta the distance, seeing no sign of the bus. The cold wind and damp was running up me legs, making the hem of me coat whip around me, cutting the legs off me.
‘Brrr!’ Miss shivered, dropping her neck inside her coat and tying the scarf around her head and clapping her feet together. ‘That wind would cut you in two,’ she said, looking frostbitten, her nose drippin with snots.
‘Yeah,’ I mumbled hoarsely, looking around at the canvas shade hanging over the vegetables sitting in their boxes on the table outside the shop across the road from us. The wind is so vicious, it was threatening te lift the poles clean outa the wall and tear the canvas cover te shreds. I watched as it yanked and pulled, making the canvas lift and slap back down again.
A woman wearing a scarf and a hat on her head, holding tight te her shopping bag on her arm, and her purse held tight between her two hands, stopped te get a look at the vegetables, then thought better of it when the canvas gave an almighty bang and the pole came swinging outa the wall. She jumped back with the shock, looking up at it, shaking her head and probably wondering why she hadn’t been killed. Then she moved herself off slowly, giving a last look back, and took off down the road.
The owner came out wearing a long dirty blue apron and looked after her, rushing herself down the road, nearly tripping over her long black coat that was miles too big for her. Then swung his head up at his shade, looking like he was thinking it was all the woman’s fault. I wanted te laugh, but there was no laugh in me, I just thought about it, feeling the pain going all around me as if it wasn’t just me hand.
Then I peeled me eyes on a man struggling like his life depended on it. I watched until the man came puffing past us on his bicycle, pedalling away like mad for all he was worth, but going nowhere in a hurry. He had his head down and his legs pumping like pistons on the pedals, determined he was going te get where he wanted te go on the bike, even if it killed him. We could hear him snorting and breathing, pressing his knees down for all he was worth, then giving a look up te see how far he got, but he was being blown backwards. The storm was too strong te best, and he finally gave up and threw his leg over the bar and landed himself on the footpath, lifting the bike and slamming it down again, muttering, ‘The curse a Jaysus on tha wind,’ looking back at the Miss. She smiled and squinted, and he put his head inta the wind again and took off pushing the bike, keeping his head down, his long brown gabardine coat flapping out behind him.
‘Did you ever see anything like this storm?’ said the Miss, looking shocked at the idea anything could be so bad. ‘Where’s that bus?’ she said, trying te see over me head. But she was too small, and jumped out, leaning te one side te see if there was anything that looked like a bus coming in our direction.
There wasn’t a sinner te be seen on the streets. Only the sight of a mangy aul dog chasing and barking its head off, trying te catch a paper bag flying through the air. When it landed, he dived on it, stamping his paw down over the greaseproof paper for wrapping bread and nosed out a half-eaten sandwich, wolfing it down, getting the lot inta his mouth and heaving his neck up and down trying te swallow it in one go. He finished that, lifting his paw and letting the paper take off in the wind again, and moseyed over te sniff under the vegetable table, then stopped te lift his leg and piss on the bag of potatoes sitting at the leg of the table. Satisfied he was done, he cocked his two back legs one at a time, giving them a good shake te get rid of the piss, and took off again, lifting his head and sniffing the wind, hoping for another good landing of grub. The canvas was left hanging from one pole, swinging around te slap itself against the brick wall and back again, knocking the onions outa the box and rolling them onta the road. The man had given up and rushed himself back inside, deciding the weather was too treacherous te have a go at trying te fix it.