Idragged the metal basin wit the soapy water, landin it on the second-last stair, an slopped in the scrubbin brush, swirlin it aroun. Then rubbed the big bar a Sunlight soap through the brushes, sendin a shower a soapy water flyin at me face an hair. I wiped me stingin eyes wit the back a me hand, an rubbed the wet hair outa me face. It was all stuck, dried hard from the washin soap, an I was hot an tired an me bones ached like mad. Then I slapped the scrubbin brush down on the white heavy rubber coverin the stairs an started te scrub, tryin te get the black marks off from the nuns’ rubber-soled shoes. They’re filthy; I’m never goin te be able te keep these stairs clean!
I scrubbed like mad, runnin me hand up an down, an the soap was makin me hands even more raw from all the dippin in an out a the carbolic soap an washin the place from top te bottom. I finished an dropped the brush back inta the cold dirty water an squeezed out the cloth, runnin it over the stair an dried it. Then standin meself up slowly, I stretched, tryin te get me back te straighten. I leaned meself back against the banisters, stoppin fer a minute te take a rest an look down the rest a the way. ‘Nearly there,’ I breathed te meself. Just tha last Victorian passage te scrub an tha’s it. Jaysus! At last I’ll be finished. I’ve been goin mornin, noon, night an day te get this convent finished fer them retreat nuns, an draggin meself outa here banjacksed. Gawd, I can’t wait te get stuck inta me tea, I’m starvin wit the hunger. Christ! It must be nearly tha time now! I better get a move on.
I reached up an dragged the basin onta the tiled floor an dropped te me knees an started te scrub the last step. Right! Tha’s it, better get the bucket an clean water an get them grey tiles done, then tha will be it fer another week. I’ll only have me ordinary work te do from then on.
‘Hurry! The nuns are arriving! We need to have this chapel finished by lunchtime, and the retreat will be starting tonight at ten o’clock.’
‘I’m goin as fast as I can, Sister Benedict! Why won’t ye ask Sister Eleanor te send up someone to help me te polish, while I polish an dry it in wit the dryer-upper?’
‘She has nobody,’ she said. ‘Now stop arguing and get a move on, Martha Long! You are wasting valuable time.’
I looked the length a the chapel, an me heart dropped, an me eyes settled on the benches all piled together, stacked one against the other. ‘Then ye better get someone in here te help push them benches back, Sister. I won’t be able to do it on me own.’
‘Oh, stop wittering and get a move on, or I’ll go and get the Reverend Mother in here immediately.’
‘OK! I’ll get movin,’ I said, feelin very tired after all me scrubbin an polishin until all hours at night.
I reached down, liftin the wooden spoon an dug it inta the bucket a wax an flung it at the floor, grabbin the big heavy dryer-upper an pounded it over the polish, spreadin it up an down an workin me way from one side te the other. Then got the polishin one, diggin me feet inta the floor an heavin it over the wax dryin inta the floor. I pulled an pushed until it began te shine an the wax dried in, makin the floor come up in a shine lookin like glass. I dug in, flyin the heavy block up an down, faster an faster, bringin up such a massive shine I could nearly see me face in it. Halfway there!
I grabbed the first bench an swung it aroun an went te the other side an did the same, gettin it down te the end where me floor was now lovely an shiny, ye really can see yer face in it!
‘Are you still not finished?’ aul Sister Benedict roared in a whisper, comin in an huffin up the chapel, swingin herself from side te side in her black Hush Puppy slippers.
‘Nearly!’ I puffed, pushin the last bench inta place an standin back te admire me lovely work.
The chapel sparkled, an me floor glowed wit a red hue. ‘Now, Sister Benedict, did I do a good job?’ I said happily, feelin I’d never be able te stand straight again. But I was happy wit all me hard work.
Sister Benedict said nothin fer a minute. I watched her walkin along the side a the benches an flyin her watery grey old tired eyes aroun, lookin te see if I missed anything or there was somethin outa place.
‘No! That’s grand,’ she said happily, lookin more at ease now an throwin herself back te lean her hands on her hips, an let her head swing aroun wit more ease an take in the place. ‘Yes! You did a good job, Martha Long. Thank you very much. Now! Did you get your dinner?’
‘No, Sister. I wanted te get this finished. I hope they kept me somethin.’
‘Run along, child, you must be starving! You should never miss your meals. That is very bad for you at your age; you are still growing. If you want to live as long as me, then you should eat well, pray, get to bed early and be up with the lark, ready to do a hard day’s work.’
‘What age are ye, Sister Benedict?’
‘I am not telling you that! It is very impertinent to ask an older person what age they are.’
I laughed, ‘Are ye nearly ninety, Sister?’
‘No! I have a few more years to go! Now be gone with you. I have work to do.’
‘Right, Sister, I’m off fer me dinner.’
I took the convent stairs two at a time, admirin me lovely clean white rubber I scrubbed last night, an landed on the lovely grey tiles sparklin wit the polish. An the lovely clean smell went up me nose, makin me feel at peace wit meself. Feelin I had everythin in its place, an there was nothin botherin me.
I whipped open the back convent door an rushed onta the grey concrete passage, headin inta the kitchen fer me dinner. I stopped suddenly at the sight a Sister Mercy stoppin te glare at me. ‘Eh, I’ve come fer me dinner, Sister Mercy.’
‘Did yeh get dat tea for the poor man yet?’
‘Wha poor man?’
‘The one sitting out in the hut for the last half hour!’
‘No! I didn’t know anythin abou tha.’
‘Well, go and make it now! You’ll find the tea canister and the mugs on the poor man’s tray dere!’
‘Where?’ I asked, spinnin me head aroun the kitchen, not seein it.
She stamped over in her hobnailed big black boots an rattled the tray wit the dishcloth in her hand, roarin, ‘Open your eyes! We haven’t the time to be dancing attendance on you!’
‘Right!’ I said, makin a dive fer the tray. ‘But, eh, wha about me dinner, Sister? Did ye . . .’
‘Get a move on and make the tea! He’s not going to wait on your pleasure! The poor man’s out dere with his tongue dragging along the ground for the want of a drop.’
‘Right,’ I said, grabbin the big heavy kettle wit the steam pourin outa it an pourin it inta the teapot.
‘Put the tea in first, yeh amadan!’
‘OK,’ I said, lettin go a the kettle an splashin it down, burnin me hand.
‘Get outa me way,’ she roared, takin the little egg cup filled wit tea an sendin it flyin everywhere in her hurry te get it inta the little teapot. ‘Now take dis, and don’t come in here fustering around my kitchen again!’
‘Right, Sister Mercy.’
I headed off up the long passage an out the top door, carryin the tray out te the grounds. The light blinded me, an I felt like a vampire seein the day fer the first time in years.
‘God bless ye, little one,’ an aul man wrapped in loads a jackets an coats wit a bit a twine wrapped aroun his waist te keep them together, an a pair a boots wit more twine tied aroun the soles te keep the top of them tha was tryin te stand up cos they were split at the toes, an ye could see his black feet wit the long black toenails stickin out, an the socks aroun them was in ribbons.
‘Eh, I wonder, little one, would ye err have a bit a bread te go wit the tea?’ He looked down at me, leanin his face inta me, an his teeth was black, an I stared at the long black hairs growin outa the top a his nose. The dirt was grained inta his forehead, an his face was covered in huge blackheads. The smell a him nearly knocked me out. But I couldn’t move meself back, because I knew it would only hurt him. The whites of his eyes was all bloodshot, an his faded grey eyes looked out at me wit terrible kindness in them, an he looked at me like I was the most important person in the world, an I was a lovely person altogether.
‘I . . . the nun in the kitchen is a bit mean,’ I said, thinkin. Knowin I wouldn’t be able te get him anythin.
‘I wouldn’t be askin ye, only I missed out on the bit a dinner up in Cabra. I had longer te walk today, ye see. I was far from me rounds over be Adam an Eve’s church down on the quays . . .’
‘I know it!’ I said, thinkin tha’s nearly beside where me an Charlie an the ma were born.
‘Well, ye’ll know then wha an awful aul long walk it is. Especially when ye’re in a hurry. So I carried on down here . . .’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘I’ll see if I can get ye somethin.’
‘Ah, God bless ye, I’m very grateful,’ he smiled happily.
I raced down past the convent door, lookin at the retreat nuns all stoppin an laughin an talkin te each other, delighted te be meetin each other again. An flew aroun the back door an headed inta the nuns’ convent kitchen. I opened the door quietly an put me head in. No sound – good! I think Sister Thomas is gone. I raced through the scullery an inta the kitchen, an made straight fer the fridge. Two cooked chops sat in tinfoil – wonder who she’s keepin them fer? Me! I picked up a lump a cheddar cheese, then went te the bread press an took down a brown soda bread, it smelled lovely an fresh. Then grabbed another one. Two’s better than one when ye’re hungry! Then I saw somethin sittin on the side a the counter. Two fish done in breadcrumbs. Right! I’ll take them, an went back te the fridge an grabbed a block a butter sittin in greaseproof paper an looked through the press fer tinfoil.
Fuck! Hurry, I hear someone. I grabbed the tinfoil, tearin a long bit, an threw everythin in together an flew like greased lightnin out the door, headin back te the hut.
‘Here! Don’t let them see ye wit tha,’ I puffed outa breath.
‘Oh, ye’re a God-sent angel! May God an his Mother make sure ye never go for the want of anythin for as long as ye live! God bless ye, child, an I hope ye have great luck.’
‘Thanks, Mister! I better run!’ An I took off thinkin, ye should have tha, not them bleedin fats nuns, they have more than enough, an I know better than anyone wha it’s like te go hungry. God help tha poor man, he looks like he’s on his last days.
I tore back inta the kitchen; the sight an smell a the grub I just robbed made me really hungry fer me dinner. The hunger is makin a hole in me belly; I wonder if the aul fucker kept me somethin te eat.
‘Your dinner is in the oven,’ she roared as I put me head back in the door.
I grabbed the dishcloth from the steel bar over the Aga an took out the hot plate, whippin off the metal dish cover. Lovely! Roast meat an two sausages, an carrots an mashed potatoes in gravy. The smell went up me nose an the steam covered me face. I headed outa the kitchen holdin onta me hot plate wit the dishcloth, an was just on the passage when I heard a roar.
‘Come back here, Martha Long!’
I turned, headin back inta the kitchen.
‘Yeh better scrub dat passage after tea this evening. It has not been done in weeks!’ she roared, starin at me.
‘Wha passage, Sister Mercy?’
‘The long kitchen passage,’ she roared, pointin te where I stood.
‘But!’
‘No buts! Dat’s part of your work. Now I want it scrubbed from top to bottom dis very evening, and yeh have to do it at the same time every Friday.’
‘OK,’ I said, lookin miserably at the length a the passage.
I finished me dinner an started te rinse the plate under the hot tap when Sister Eleanor came flyin in. ‘Oh, really and truly, this refectory is disgusting! Look at those plates still sitting in the sink,’ she said, making a grab te take them out an pile them on the draining board. ‘Oh, listen, darling, will you ever take charge of this refectory after the dinner? Wash the dishes and wipe down the tables and sweep the floor, there’s no one to do it. Will you do that for me, pet?’ she said, lookin inta me eyes an pleadin wit me, lookin lost.
‘OK, Sister,’ I whispered, wonderin if I have the time after me dinner. I have te run over te the convent kitchen an work over there.
‘Oh, thank you, darling! That will be a great help to me,’ then she vanished out the door.
‘I better get a move on,’ I muttered, lookin aroun the room.