Ma, I'm Gettin Meself a New Mammy Page 18

  ‘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 i
nformed 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 . . .

  CHAPTER 15

  ‘Come in,’ Sister Eleanor said, smiling and waving me in the door.

  I crept around the door, putting me head in and bringing me suitcase after me.

  ‘This is the girl I was telling you about, Mrs Daly! This is Martha,’ she said, holding her arm out for me te come closer and say hello.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, looking at the woman’s black tight perm that she must have just got done for the Christmas. It looked like a little woolly hat. I stared up at the sort of granny hat sitting on top of her head, a bluey grey one that puffed up at one side and sat flat on the other, looking like someone had let the air out. She kept it sitting there with a big knobby pin pushed through inta her scalp and coming up again out through the hat. Me eyes travelled te the red-and-brown headscarf with horses jumping over bars, folded around her neck, and the brown wool figuredin coat that the women used te wear when I was small. It looks a bit short for her. I’d say she’s been wearing that for years. Her high heels were a bit hickey, too! They’re not really high heels, more the type grannies wear when they want te look glamorous. Brown with a square toe and a bow on the front, with wedge heels. Very hickey! She looks like a country woman, not glamorous at all, I thought, staring at her, feeling disappointed. I was hoping for someone with a bit of style.

  ‘Martha is fifteen, Mrs Daly,’ Sister Eleanor breathed, leaning towards the woman and smiling from her te me.

  ‘Ah, Martha! It’s really good to meet you,’ she smiled, saying in a big country voice, putting out both arms, coming towards me and leaning over te grab me te her and smother me in her coat, and put her hand on me back and the other one on me head. I held meself tight, feeling a bit afraid she might not be really like this; she might just be acting nice. Then she turned me around, still holding me, saying, ‘This is Thelma, my daughter; she’s fifteen, too. Say hello, Thelma.’

  I could smell lovely perfume and powder from the woman, and she smelt fresh and clean. She kept rubbing me back and squeezing me shoulder without thinking, and I started te let go me breath, feeling a bit easier in meself.

  ‘Hello!’ Thelma said from across the room, staring at me from head te toe.

  I stared back at her short mousey-brown wiry hair, chopped around her ears. She must have cut it herself, I thought, gaping at her with me mouth open. Or maybe her ma cut it. Sister Eleanor is always chasing me with the scissors, but I wouldn’t let her near me. No fear! I’m letting me hair grow down te me toes. Even if it does look like rats’ tails, that’s what Sister Eleanor calls it.

  She stared out at me through black horn-rimmed glasses, wondering what she was going te make of me or whether she’d even like me or not. I could see it in her eyes; they flew up and down me, not looking too sure.

  I was thinking the same. She’s not exactly what I had in mind for someone te have a great time with! Her face looks the colour of raw dough, and she’s covered in big pimples all around her chin. She must squeeze them! I’ve seen the big gobshites do that, and you end up looking like Thelma, covered in big spots and boils.

  ‘Hello, Thelma,’ I said, giving a little wave.

  She took her time answering me and just stood taking me in, this time from me toes te me head. I watched her standing straight with her arms down by her sides. I bet she does everything her mammy tells her! She’s a bit stupid-looking. Gawd! She’s very plain. I’d hate te look like her!

  Ah, gawd help her! I bet she doesn’t have many friends. Now I think I know why they took me out for the Christmas! I suddenly felt sorry for her and the poor mammy, gawd help her. She wants te make Thelma happy, give her a nice Christmas, that’s probably what she asked for. She’s probably lonely. I felt meself cheering up. So, that’s grand with me. And I get te spend Christmas with them. Fair exchange is no robbery! Then everyone’s happy.

  ‘I’m really happy te meet ye, Thelma!’ I said, reaching over with me hand te shake hers.

  She gave me her hand, holding it out in a limp, and smiled shyly, showing me her big buck teeth. She had te rest them on her lower lip, they’re that big. Ah, she’s shy, I thought, looking at her face turning bright red as she looked over at her mammy, smiling.

  ‘Now!’ the mammy was muttering te the two of us. ‘I can see you two will get on like a house on fire,’ then started te roar laughing, letting out her breath with the relief of it all, getting
that over, delighted at the sight of us smiling at each other.

  ‘Martha is a lovely girl,’ Sister Eleanor said, smiling and nodding at the mammy and patting me on the back, and rushing over te Thelma, putting her arm around her shoulder, saying, ‘She’s a very big and grand girl for fifteen, isn’t she?’

  ‘God bless her, she is, Sister,’ the mammy nodded, smiling at the fuss over Thelma. ‘She takes after my side of the family. My brothers are all tall, and Thelma takes after them.’

  ‘Is she your only girl?’ asked Sister Eleanor, stroking Thelma’s back.

  I watched, wondering why we never got that treatment. I suppose it’s because she’s a visitor!

  ‘Oh, the one and only girl,’ the mammy said, ‘and one boy, Joseph! He’s eight. I lost a few in between,’ she said, ‘still births. One girl managed to struggle for three days. Then we lost her, too,’ she said, sounding very sad, nodding her head and lowering it at the sudden memory, letting the light go outa her eyes.

  I felt terribly sorry for her, the poor woman. Thinking the ma can’t get them fast enough inta the world. Jaysus! Life is very peculiar.

  ‘Ah, God is good,’ smiled Sister Eleanor, trying te buck up the mammy quick, before she starts getting down and out in herself, and Sister Eleanor started it. ‘Now you have this beauty!’ she shouted, laughing and slapping Thelma on the back, then rubbing it te take out the sting. Sister Eleanor can send ye flying inta tomorrow with one a them slaps. I should know, after I pushed her too far inta losing her rag.