Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes (64 page)

I paid five shillins outa the seven shillins I kept back fer meself, an saved the two shillins, hidin it in me new socks so Jackser or me ma wouldn't get their hands on it. An then started on me struggle again, turnin down fer Talbot Street. I would try te move fast an keep goin, but it was no good. I had te keep stoppin, just like I did wit the butter.

When I finally made it te the door, it was whipped open without me bangin. They were waitin an watchin fer me. ‘Holy Jaysus!' Jackser roared, delighted. ‘Man alive! Did ye bring back the fuckin shop wit ye?' An he started snufflin an jerkin his arm up an down, an lookin wit his eyes out on stalks.

Me ma came rushin over te the table as I landed the bag on the floor an dropped the stuff outa me stiff arm. I felt like concrete. I handed her the purse wit the seven pounds, an Jackser roared, ‘Fuck me blind! The young one's a topper!'

I helped me ma te unload the bag, an the childre all crowded aroun the table, screamin wit excitement. Charlie was hummin anxiously in case he was left out. I pulled out the bars a chocolate – an the screams, an the hands out, an pushin an shovin! ‘Me! Me!' tha's all I could hear as I gave them one each. Then they rushed off te sit in corners away from each other an take off the silver paper, watchin each other like hawks in case anyone robbed them. Me ma was all excited an laughin. An Jackser was shakin his head an sayin, ‘Tha's wha some workin men bring home in a week, after a hard day's graft!'

I collapsed on top of the bed, leanin meself against the wall, too drained te move a muscle. An just watched everyone. Te have everyone so happy was a great feelin. But I was very glad it was all over. I couldn't ever go through tha again.

‘Listen!' Jackser said te me, snufflin an jerkin his arm. ‘I've been thinkin! We're onta a good thing here.' I went rigid, lookin over at him, waitin te hear wha he was goin te say. ‘People get paid on a Friday, an tha's when they go te do their shoppin. So ye could do the two days, then we'd have the double amount of money an twice as much food. An we'd be on the pig's back, an we'd never worry again!'

So now, every week, twice a week, Friday an Saturday, I have te go out an rob the butter te bring back the money an the food te Jackser an me ma. When the shops get suspicious of me, I know they're watchin an just waitin te catch me. So I can't go back there fer a while. I have te find new shops. I'm all the time lookin an readin the paper te see if any new supermarkets are openin. I travel on the bus te Rathfarnham an walk from there te Churchtown. I go out te Ballyfermot, but tha's no good. Ye're watched like a hawk. I go anywhere te find butter. I went te Blackrock, but tha's a small place wit only one supermarket, an after one day, they'd notice ye, an I'd be caught. Sometimes I'm walkin fer miles. It might be cold an pourin rain, but I have te keep goin. Jackser expects me te bring home the money. An me life wouldn't be worth livin if I didn't. An me ma would go mad, too. She'd go off inta her own world, an it would be terrible te see her like tha, not botherin te even look at us.

Things go wrong, too! I might find a quiet laneway wit cars parked down them, an hide the butter under the wheels of a car only te come back an find the butter squashed when the car drives off! Or maybe someone found it, an now it's gone! An I have te start again. Sometimes me customers might only want one pound a butter instead of two or even three. An then I have te search fer new customers, all the time, draggin the heavy bag.

I bring back fourteen pounds a week. An eight te ten pounds' worth a messages. An toys fer the childre. But it's never enough! As soon as I get in the door, me ma wants te know if I got the new jumper she wanted. ‘I couldn't, Ma! They were watchin me.' An she turns away in disgust, not happy. Jackser takes the money an wants te know if I could go in on a Thursday as well, cos they need a few extra bob. ‘The shops are quiet, Jackser. An I wouldn't have the customers!' I plead.

‘Well, give it a fuckin try anyway!' he roars at me.

Me nerves are gone. I shake all the time. An me head never stops splittin me wit the pain. The only good day is Sunday, when it's all over. But then Monday comes, an I'm down on me knees prayin te God an his Holy Mother te grant tha I won't be caught. I feel sick all the time. An on Friday mornin on the way in te the shops, I have te stop te vomit me guts up. This hell I'm in never stops. It just goes on an on. I don't play wit the other childre now, cos I'm kept in te mind the childre an the room while Jackser an me ma goes off fer the day. He goes drinkin, an me ma just sits wit him.

He bought her a new coat, a red one wit a fur collar, an himself a Crombie coat, an a pair of jockey trousers, an a new pair of leather jockey boots te match. One way or the other, the money is gone by Wednesday. Or they might even spend it all in one day. Me ma complains she's fed up eatin rashers an eggs an sausages, an eatin mince stews. But she can't cook anythin else, an I don't know wha te bring her. She can't cook the sausages. She just gives them a look at the fryin pan an then throws them on the plate lookin snow white an completely raw. An she drops a half-dozen eggs on the fryin pan at the same time an mashes them aroun wit the knife, an then dumps them onta the plate full a black grease. An then says, ‘Call him fer his dinner!' So we are no better fed, cos he gets most of it.

Me ma had a new babby. It's a girl. Jackser called her Dinah, after his sister, he says. He keeps lookin at her, sayin, ‘Sally, she looks like a little saint te me! Ye know, I think she's goin te be a nun! She has tha look about her. I don't think she belongs te this world!' Then he gets tears in his eyes an crosses himself. I look at me ma in disgust, cos she keeps lookin at the babby an smilin an noddin, delighted wit herself. Happy cos her fuckin Jackser is happy! ‘We have a daughter,' Jackser crows at the babby.

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.