Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes (44 page)

An me ma starts. ‘Yes! She's the image of me sister Mary tha died when she was only twelve. She was very holy an a real beauty. She's goin te take after her. I can see tha,' me ma says, noddin at Jackser, who's leanin over me ma's shoulder, starin at the babby.

‘Me first daughter! Can ye beat tha?' he says wit a faraway look in his eyes.

‘Yeah! It's lovely havin a girl,' me ma says. ‘Ye can depend on them fer yer creature comforts.' An she doesn't even look at me! I feel she doesn't want me any more. It's just her an Jackser an his childre. Cos she's always callin Charlie names. An when she does look at him, she has a sour face on her. An Jackser keeps callin me ‘tha aul one', an I know I'm only ten years old, but it still pains me. Or else he's tellin me ma te get rid of the two bastards. An tha's why I think she doesn't like Charlie. She doesn't bother about me either. She thinks she only has one daughter, an tha's Dinah.

The other day we were walkin along Capel Street, pushin Dinah sittin up in her cream Walker pram. An she was lookin lovely, wit her pink coat an matchin bonnet wit the white trim lace I got fer her. An her lovely big dolly sittin beside her on the pilla. An Dinah's big blue eyes, an her lovely white face an fair curly hair. She's six months old now, an she threw her rattler outa the pram, an a woman stooped down te pick it up an said, ‘Oh, my God! She's an absolute beauty, God bless her!' An she started ticklin Dinah under the chin, an Dinah gave her a big smile, showin her dimples on her cheeks an her four teeth. I was delighted, an me ma was laughin. An the woman said, ‘Have ye many like her?' lookin aroun at the rest a us. An me ma said, laughin, ‘No, only the one. She's me first girl! The rest was all boys.'

I got such a pain in me heart it nearly choked me! But I didn't cry, cos somehow I knew fer a long time me ma didn't see me as her child. Tha I didn't really belong te her. Tha somehow I only belonged te meself, an I had te mind her. I felt very old.

Jackser sent me fer ten Woodbines, an when I got back, he was gone. Me ma was roarin an cryin. ‘Wha's wrong, Ma?'

‘Tha bastard's after takin all me money. As soon as he saw me takin the money outa me purse fer the cigarettes, he whipped it. Every penny I had was in tha purse. A whole five pound note an a ten shillin note an two half-crowns! Now I'm left wit nothin!'

‘I don't know, Ma,' I said, feelin very weak. I sat down, sick te me stomach.

‘He won't come back until he's drank all a the money. An he'll play the big man, buyin everyone in the pub a drink,' me ma cried. An then she was galvanised inta action. ‘I'm goin! Gettin away from him! Here! Dress the babby,' an she handed me Dinah. ‘Put tha on her,' an she gave me the babby's hat an coat. Dinah waved her arms an bounced herself up an down on me knee, delighted somethin was happenin. She always gets excited when we put her hat an coat on. I gave her a big squeeze an kept kissin her fat little cheeks, an she loved it. ‘Come on, hurry up an put her in the pram,' me ma said, grabbin all the clothes outa the press an throwin them on the bed.

When everyone was ready an me ma had the pram loaded up wit a mountain of clothes, ye couldn't see Dinah. We had te keep the hood down te let her get some air. An off we went, slammin the door behind us.

We rushed up Talbot Street, me helpin te push the heavy pram tha had a mind of its own an kept wantin te go onta the road. ‘Push!' me ma roared at me.

‘I am, Ma! But you're not steerin it properly.'

‘Tha bastard won't see me again,' she went back te mutterin te herself. ‘He's not takin me fer a fool no more! I wasted too much a me life on him. But no more!' I looked up at her, she had a faraway look in her eyes. I said nothin, just happy te be gettin away from tha aul fella.

We turned down O'Connell Street an passed over te the GPO, headin down te the Liffey. Then we turned right onta Bachelors Walk. An I looked at all the second-hand furniture shops, wishin we could get a little place of our own. An we could buy a nice bit a furniture an have the place lookin lovely. But I was holdin me breath, afraid any minute me ma might change her mind an turn back again. Sure enough! As we crossed the Ha'penny Bridge, me ma slowed down an said, ‘I think we better go back, before he finds out we're missin.'

‘No, Ma!' I pushed the pram harder. ‘We're not goin back! Ye don't need him! I'll take care of everythin, an we'll have a good life, livin in peace.'

I looked up at me ma, me heart in me mouth. I could see the air goin outa her, like after ye blow up a paper bag an then burst it. ‘I don't know,' she was sayin, chewin her lip. ‘Where will we go?'

I looked aroun me feelin desperate. ‘The hostel, Ma! The Regina Ceoli!'

‘No!' me ma roared. ‘I'm not goin back there. Tha's an awful kip!'

‘Ma, please! Let's go. Just until I get enough money together te get our own place. We can save, Ma. We won't need te spend a penny. An we'll have a lovely place of our own in no time. We can even buy lovely new shiny lino fer the floor.'

‘Ah! I don't know,' me ma said, lookin far away.

Then she turned the pram aroun, an said, ‘Come on! We better get back before he does.'

‘No, Ma! I'm not goin back. You can go if ye want te, but I'm never goin back!'

She stopped an looked back at me. I stood me ground, me heart hammerin in me chest. But she turned away from me, sayin, ‘I have te get back, Martha!' an I stood an watched her rushin away from me. An Charlie was watchin me, hopin I'd change me mind an follow me ma. He rushed on, catchin up wit the pram, an I was on me own. A few minutes ago, I thought I had me mammy an me brothers an me babby sister, an we'd live in a lovely little flat an be very happy. An then suddenly it all changes, an ye're left wit nothin! But I sort of expected tha, cos lovely things only happen in the fairy books I read or in the fillums. But they're not real!

I wandered on, lost inside meself, feelin I was all alone an wantin me mammy. But she didn't want me. I only wanted someone te like me, hold me hand an smile at me. An fuss about me hair an was I washed! An sleep in a nice clean bed. An say, ‘This is my child, an I think the world of her!' But I knew I wasn't goin te find tha. I'm just not lucky, tha's all. This thought didn't lift the empty feelin inside me or take the weight inside me chest offa me.

I wandered on, turnin up the hill an comin te the house I used te live in. I sat down on the ground wit me back against the factory wall, just like I used te do a long time ago, an looked up at the windas all locked up. An the memories came rushin back. Auntie Cissy sittin on the windasill, drinkin her tea an smilin down at me, makin sure I was eatin me currant bun. Aunt Nelly wakin us, me an Barney, te give us our tea an bread, always laughin. Me ma buyin me chips on a dark cold night, an us rushin home te eat them. Just the two of us! Her happy wearin lipstick. An me heart felt it was goin te break. I want them times te come back again. I closed me eyes, rememberin. But they're gone, over fer ever. An me ma is gone, too. She went wit them times, an she'll never come back. There's nothin here any more. I stirred meself, gettin up feelin stiff. I'd been sittin on the cold ground too long.

I wandered back down the hill towards the Liffey an kept walkin till I hit O'Connell Bridge an turned down Aston Quay. I ended up under the arch at Amiens Street station. It was gettin late, nearly dark. I wandered inta a little shop an started te read the comics. I helped meself te a comic tha said ‘Tales from the Crypt', an the man spotted me an roared after me, ‘Bring tha comic back!'

I ran, decidin not te part wit me comic. It looked good, an I needed somethin te keep me company. A bus stopped at the stop in front of me, an I jumped on, not knowin where I was goin. It was dark now, an the conductor roared up the stairs, ‘Last stop, Dollymount!' Oh, I heard of tha, it's on the seaside. I came down the stairs an asked the man wha time the next bus goes inta town. ‘This is the last one,' he said. ‘We're headin back te the bus station.' I got off the bus, an it was pitch black, except fer the street lights. It looked very dark in places an was very late at night.

I wandered back, headin towards some lights I could see comin outa a shop. Big young fellas an young ones wit college scarves aroun their necks were laughin an pushin each other. I looked at them wit their big white Gibbs toothpaste smiles, an clean shiny faces, an lovely long hair, an ye could see they were well looked after an not a bother in the world on them. The lights went out in the shop, an the people were sayin goodnight, an then they went their separate ways, laughin an wavin. An then everythin went dark an quiet.

I moved on, feelin very tired an cold. I passed big houses, wonderin where I was goin te sleep. I need te find a bit of shelter, somewhere in outa the cold an wind comin in from the sea. An I don't want anyone te spot me, or God knows wha might happen te me. I walked on, lookin at the houses, desperate te find somewhere. An then I stopped at a house tha was very dark an deserted lookin. I walked up the path an looked at the inside a the porch. There was a hairy brush mat on the doorstep, an I pulled it inta the corner an lay down, fallin asleep. But I kept wakin up from the cold an was disappointed te find I was only dreamin I was under the pissy blankets an coats at home. I got up an pulled the mat out onta the grass. This might be softer. But I woke up again from the cold, an I decided te look fer somewhere else. I crossed the road an found a concrete shelter on the beach. I was happy te be in outa the wind an settled meself in the corner wit me back against the wall an me feet stretched out along the bench. An I could keep an eye on the entrance, in case someone tried te creep up on me. It was very dark, but I didn't mind, just glad of the peace, an I made me plans.

Tomorrow mornin, I would take the bus inta town, an I'd have te get a few pounds a butter te get meself some money. But I didn't mind, cos it was fer meself, an I'd only need enough te feed meself wit. An now I don't have te go inta the shops every weekend an rob all tha butter an food fer them. I could give it up an only take the odd few pounds. Just enough te keep me goin. I'd better buy a candle, just in case I have te come back here tomorrow night. But I have all the time in the world te find somethin better. I was feelin very happy wit meself.

I'd got the bus inta town an managed te get six pounds a butter an sold it fer one pound an one shillin. An I'd gone up te Woolworths café an bought meself beans an chips an a fried egg. An I was just comin down the stairs when who should appear in front of me but Jackser an me ma! I got such a shock! I just stood an stared inta Jackser's face grinnin up at me. An then I turned me eyes te me ma. She turned away from me, not meetin me eyes, an chewed her lip, lookin at the wall. ‘You were right,' he said te me ma. ‘This was the very place te find her!'

Me ma looked at him an avoided lookin inta me eyes, an said, ‘I told ye this is where she comes.'

I came back te me senses an looked past him, judgin me chances of escape. But they were blockin the stairs, an Jackser grabbed me arm an said, ‘Ye needn't try te run off, cos I'll find ye, even if I have te scour these streets night an day. I'll catch ye sooner or later. Now empty yer pockets!' an he took the seventeen shillins an sixpence I had left in me pocket. He held me arm, an he marched me all the way back home.

When we got in the door, he picked me up by the back of me neck an flung me across the room. I hit the fireplace on the top of me head, an everythin went black, an I saw stars. An me dinner shot outa me neck. An Jackser grabbed me neck again an wiped me face an nose inta the sick. Me breath was cut off, an I tried te struggle, pushin up an away wit me hands on the floor. But they were slidin in the vomit, an Jackser was roarin inta me head. Then he let go an gave me an unmerciful kick in me side, an I started retchin again, not able te breathe. An the pain was worse than anythin I ever had before. I was swingin meself up, tryin te get te me feet te maybe crawl under the bed te get away from him. He was hammerin on the walls an slammin the table wit his fists. ‘You're not breakin up this family!' he was roarin. ‘Sally told me all about ye. Gettin her te run away from me! Puttin ideas in her head! So now, the only one leavin here is you! You're gettin on tha boat tonight, an you're goin te England. Ye can stay wit her brother in Hemel Hempstead. An if I ever set eyes on ye again, you're fuckin dead! Ye're gettin this chance te walk outa here alive. But there'll be no next time.'

I crawled up on me feet, draggin meself up onta the bed. An then stood, not movin, waitin fer him te let me move. Me head was like it belonged te someone else. An me back was bent in two from the pain. An I still felt sick. Me nose was stuffed wit the vomit, an me clothes was destroyed. It was soaked inta me hair. How am I goin te clean me coat? It's destroyed! Me ma never moved a muscle, just sat starin at nothin, lookin like a marble statue. Poor Charlie was white as a sheet, an Teddy an Harry was hidin in the corner of the bed, their eyes bulgin wit fright. An Dinah was the only one screamin, an she was sobbin now, lookin from me te Jackser, waitin an watchin te see if the killins was over.

They walked me down te the boat tha night, leavin Charlie te mind the childre. He was five now. An I feel sorry fer him, cos they'll expect him te take up where I left off. We arrived at the gangplank, an crowds a people were gettin on the mailboat. ‘Ma! I whispered. ‘Ye have te give me the address! Where does yer brother Barney live?'

‘In Hemel Hempstead,' she said, agitated.

‘I know, Ma, but where?' I asked, desperate.

‘When ye get off the boat, ye get on the train fer London. It takes ye te Hamel Hempstead.'

‘The train takes ye te Hemel Hempstead, Ma?' I asked.

‘No!' she roared. ‘The train takes ye te Euston Station, then ye find yer way te Hemel Hempstead!'