Ma, I'm Gettin Meself a New Mammy Read online

  I could smell the lovely fry, and me belly started te rumble and me mouth water. I’m dying te get me teeth inta that fry.

  ‘Well, glory be teh God!’ roared the granny, lifting her head outa the newspaper and turning around te the grandad. ‘Paidir! Looka dis! Do yeh know who is just gone and passed away?’ she said, swinging her head back te squint at the newspaper, her eyes moving along the death column page, looking through a spying glass and reading the words te herself, her lips moving and her voice mumbling. ‘Well I never!’ she roared. ‘Do yeh know who’s just gone and died? Yeh never will guess!’

  ‘Who?’ mumbled the grandad, not really interested, examining the floor like there was better things happening there.

  ‘Do yeh know who it is?’ she roared again, lifting her head quickly and swinging it at him then back te the paper.

  ‘WHO?’ roared the grandad. ‘I’ll be dead meself by the time yeh get around teh telling me at dis rate a going!’

  Everyone roared laughing, looking at them and waiting te hear what the granny was going te say.

  ‘Aul Finnigan himself, begad! Would yeh credit that now?’ she roared, still not lifting her head off the newspaper.

  ‘What Finnigan are yeh talking about?’ roared the grandad, looking like he was going te cry with temper. ‘Who? There must be twenty a dem Finnigans! Which one are yeh talking about, Maeve? Will yeh tell me outa that and stop yure aul codding. Is it a mind reader yeh think I am?’

  ‘For the love a God! I’m telling yeh, yeh cantankerous old man!’ she roared, shaking the newspaper and shaking herself in a rage! ‘Aul Mattie Finnigan himself! The undertaker!’

  ‘Ah, he’s well past his time! Sure, he’s no loss teh anyone. Dat fella was so mean he wouldn’t give yeh the steam offa his piss!’ the grandad muttered te the floor, taking another slurp of his drink.

  ‘Removal to the local parish church, Wednesday,’ she read, muttering te herself, holding the newspaper close te her face and running the spyglass over the words. ‘Ah! Dat will be a big affair!’ she keened, beginning te raise her voice. ‘T’is an awful pity we’ll miss dat. I’d a loving teh be at that one. The world and his wife won’t miss dat funeral!’ she said te herself, looking very woebegone, shaking her head in disappointment. ‘I do love a good funeral! Dat’s why I do keep me eye on the death columns in the newspaper,’ she said, looking over at the mammy, who wasn’t minding her but trying te stop the sausages burning, and flapping away all the smoke with her dishcloth.

  The telephone started te ring, and the dog leapt up, making for the handle of the door, jumping up and down on it trying te open it.

  ‘Get away outa dat!’ said the daddy, jumping up and flapping his hand at the dog, missing him. ‘It’s for you, Granny,’ he roared.

  ‘Me! Why would anyone want teh call me here?’ she roared, looking shocked.

  ‘It’s yure neighbour, Mrs Hennesey. She wants teh talk teh yeh.’

  ‘From down yonder is it?’

  ‘Go and find out,’ shouted the grandad, ‘and stop yure fustering, woman! T’is calling yeh long distance dey are! The people will be getting a phone bill as long as yure arm! We may end up paying for it, or I’ll have teh be paying for it, more like.’ Then he jumped up, saying, ‘I’ll speak teh dem,’ making for the door.

  ‘PAIDIR MURPHY! Yeh’ll do no such thing! It’s me they want teh talk teh! Not the likes a you!’ She was up in a flash, moving on her bunions, and out the door while he was still thinking about it, and shutting the door with an unmerciful bang, nearly taking the face off him.

  ‘Begad! Dat woman can move when she wants teh!’ he said, looking at the room, getting a shock for himself.

  ‘What would that be about, Grandad?’ said the mammy, looking worried.

  ‘I don’t rightly know,’ he said, thinking, his false teeth flying in and outa his mouth, looking worried. ‘Begad! I hope the house hasn’t burnt down teh the ground,’ he said. ‘Listen! I want teh hear what she’s saying,’ he said, leaning his head te the door.

  ‘Ohh! Is that right now? Yes, it is a great loss teh the locals right enough! Indeed we all are. I was just saying only this minute how we’ll miss him greatly . . .’

  ‘Who is she talking about?’ the grandad muttered te the room.

  ‘All right so! We’ll be back down soon, and we’ll be seeing yeh then. Goodbye now! And a very happy Christmas teh them all.’

  ‘Tea’s ready!’ shouted the mammy just as the granny came dragging herself back inta the room.

  ‘Who was yeh talking about?’ asked the grandad. ‘What loss were yeh on about?’

  ‘Whist! Hold yerself back and let me sit down,’ said the granny, making for her chair.

  ‘Over here, Granny! We’re going to have the tea,’ said the mammy, landing plates a mixed grill, she called it, down in front of everyone rushing te the table. ‘You stay where you are, Martha,’ she said, putting a plate a sausages and rashers and black and white pudding with tomatoes and a lamb chop down in front of me.

  I waited for everyone te get themself settled and then started on me grub. Oh, the smell was tormenting me, and I lashed inta the chop straight away, not bothering te see if they were noticing me flying through the sausages, and dipping me hand inta the basket and taking a thick slice a home-made soda bread and lathering on the butter. Oh, the taste is outa this world. We never get grub like this in the convent! They keep that for the nuns.

  ‘Well! Out with the news!’ barked the grandad, taking out his teeth and landing them beside him on the table.

  ‘Ah, t’was only the neighbour Mary Hennessey phoning teh say tha auld Mattie Finnigan has gone an died!’

  ‘WE KNOW DAT!’ roared Grandad, shoving his teeth back in, trying te chew on the chop. ‘Is that all she had teh say?’

  ‘Yes! What more do yeh want?’

  ‘If yeh let me speak, yeh might hear more!’

  ‘She said the talk is he’ll be getting a hero’s funeral, if yeh wouldn’t be minding!’

  ‘A what?’ roared the grandad.

  ‘Yes! He fought in the war of independence.’

  ‘WAR!’ roared the grandad, grabbing a lump a fat from the chop outa his mouth and landing it on the plate, nearly choking with the news he was getting. ‘What war a independence did he fight in? Sure, as soon as he even heard the mention a the Black and Tans, he took teh his heels an hid in Dinny MacSweeney’s hayshed! It took a whole month before dey could tear him down, screaming he’s not a well man. Up in the bloody hayloft, he’d been hiding himself out. Buried under the hay, he was! That was the nearest he got teh any war!’ shouted the grandad, looking very disgusted, slapping more half-chewed meat onta the plate.

  ‘Well now! I’m only relaying the news back to yeh! He’s going to be lying in state in our local church from tonight, an getting the flag wrapped around his coffin. So I know nothing more than dat!’ said the granny, attacking the fry, making short work a the sausages and grabbing two cuts a soda bread.

  I made another grab for the last one left, giving up trying te be polite by waiting for someone te ask me if I wanted more. I polished that off in seconds and looked at me plate, clean except for the bones. Gawd! I’m still starving. That was lovely. They don’t give us anything like this in the convent. Ye nearly have te share the two little sausages they give ye. I wonder if I should ask for more bread? And a drop a tea. I looked around at the table; everyone is still gabbing.

  ‘Would you like something else, Martha?’ the mammy asked, looking at me, ready te give me whatever I want. ‘Would you like some mince pies?’

  ‘Yeah, please, eh, sorry! Are they the things with currants in them?’

  ‘Yes!’ she said, smiling, ready te jump up, heading over te the oven. ‘Oh, my mince pies! I forgot to take them out of the oven!’ She grabbed a cloth, taking out the burnt pies, flapping the dishcloth te get rid a the smoke. ‘Oh, they’re ruined! I only meant to heat them.’

  ‘Yeah, never mind, Missus. I’m not really h
ungry anyway,’ I heard meself saying. Ah, fuck! What did I go and say that for? I’m still starving!

  ‘Are you finished?’ Thelma asked me, jumping up from the table.

  ‘Eh, yeah.’

  ‘Come on, then! Let’s go to the front room and see the Christmas tree!’

  I took out after her, hoping there might be mention of another bit a grub later on. I followed her inta a big sitting room with a brown three-piece leather suite arranged in front of a big open fire. The red-hot coal was settled down te an orange glow, sending lovely warm heat blasting inta the room. ‘This is lovely, Thelma,’ I said, sitting meself down in the armchair beside the fire and looking around, admiring the room. The two armchairs sat each side of the fireplace, and the sofa in the middle, with a coffee table sitting in front. I looked behind me at the alcove with the lovely shiny mahogany table holding a big lamp.

  ‘That’s called a Tiffany lamp,’ Thelma said, seeing me staring at it.

  ‘All the different-coloured glass is gorgeous, Thelma, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah! We got that passed down from my great-grandmother on Daddy’s side.’

  ‘Lovely,’ I murmured, staring at the silver photographs sitting on the table. One of the mammy and daddy: she’s holding a baby on her lap and the daddy has Thelma wrapped te him. She’s half standing and the rest of her is under the daddy’s arms. She looks about six or seven. I looked at the other one in silver of the mammy with a child on her lap and Thelma standing beside her, holding the baby’s hand. That must be Joseph when he was a baby, sitting in a white linen suit with his little fat legs kicking out.

  I looked at the bookcase, wondering who reads all the books.

  ‘Daddy and Mammy read a lot. She likes the romances, and Daddy likes history. Mostly on Ireland,’ she said, seeing me looking at the bookcase. It’s a lovely old-fashioned mahogany one with glass doors, and gorgeous panels in the door at the bottom.

  ‘Come on! What do you think of our Christmas tree?’ shouted Thelma.

  ‘Yeah, it’s outa this world,’ I said, bringing meself across. ‘I was saving that for last, Thelma. I wanted te see the books first,’ I said, throwing meself on the smashing thick rugs.

  ‘This is a Chinese rug. Mammy made Daddy buy it in Switzers last January, during the sales. Isn’t it fabulous?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, stroking it, feeling the thick pile a wool. It’s lovely and soft. ‘Ye’re a lucky girl, Thelma, I hope ye know that,’ I said, thinking what a lovely mammy she has, and a daddy who dotes on her.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ she said, looking at me. ‘Have you parents?’

  ‘Yes and no! I suppose no,’ I said, thinking about it. Getting a picture of the ma in me head, feeling sad and annoyed, and wanting te leave her behind. ‘No! I have no family,’ I said, meaning it. I’m not going te think about them any more. Fuck it! What’s a family anyway? I don’t think it means what I want it te. People who take care of their children. ‘No, Thelma. No family.’

  ‘Gawd! That’s awful! I can’t imagine not having Mammy and Daddy,’ she said, looking very worried.

  ‘That won’t happen te you, Thelma. Look how old yer grandparents are.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, giving a big sigh of contentment.

  ‘So anyway! Where’s yer present?’ I said, looking at the Christmas tree with the pink fairy standing on the top branch, and Santa Claus holding onta a present and holding out his other hand, dangling from the tree! The lights stayed on, and they were like little carriages, ones the horses used to pull in the old days.

  ‘Mammy bought them lights in Switzers. She waits until after the Christmas to get our real presents, like winter coats or shoes, or something for the house. But this year I’m not waiting. I’m dying for a new coat. Hope she gets me one.’

  ‘That’s a very dear shop, isn’t it, Thelma?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s why we wait for the sales. These are the presents Joseph and me bought,’ she said, pointing under the tree te parcels wrapped in Christmas paper. ‘The rest are hidden away for Santa to bring,’ she laughed, ‘for Joseph!’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, thinking I never believed in him. ‘Did ye ever believe in Santa Claus, Thelma?’

  ‘Yeah, of course! Didn’t you?’

  ‘No!’ I laughed.

  ‘I didn’t stop believing in him until I was about nine! Then I heard Daddy and Mammy coming down from the guest bedrooms – they kept that locked. Daddy dropped my two-wheeler bicycle down the stairs; he was drunk! And the roars outa him and the mammy woke us up! That was hilarious,’ she screamed, laughing her head off. ‘I came charging down the stairs when I heard the noise, thinking it was Santa at first! Oh, you should have seen their faces. Mammy was fit to be tied, raging she was with Daddy, and Daddy was blaming the poteen that Grandad brought up. He makes it himself and brings up bottles of the stuff every Christmas for as long as I can remember.’

  ‘Jaysus, Thelma! Them two are a scream! They never stop shouting at each other.’

  ‘No! But Grandad is devoted to Granny, he wouldn’t go anywhere without her.’

  ‘That’s lovely,’ I said, feeling like crying and not knowing bleeding why. What more could I want? Here I am with a lovely family, they can’t be nice enough te me, and I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. Jaysus! Be satisfied. What’s wrong with me? I stood up going over te try out the other armchair, and the door opened.

  ‘Ah! Are yeh all right, girls?’ the uncle said, laughing and showing his snow-white teeth, and waving a hand behind him. ‘Come on, men! The girls have beaten us teh the chairs,’ he shouted, watching Thelma race and bounce herself inta the armchair, screeching, ‘We got here first! Dere’s no one taking my seat!’

  ‘Ah! We’ll see about dat now,’ growled the uncle, making a run at her.

  She screamed, ‘No! Stop! No tickles; you’re not getting me out. Daddy!’

  ‘I’m coming,’ muttered the daddy, making a move for the other side of her, and the two men lifted her under the arms, bouncing her onta the floor, and the daddy sat down.

  ‘Yeh’re next,’ the uncle said, pointing his finger and coming at me.

  ‘Ha! Ye’ll have two hopes of getting me outa this chair, Mister!’

  ‘What? Begad! Is dat a challenge the little whipper snapper is throwing out?’ he shouted, whipping his head at the grandad.

  ‘Yeah!’ screamed Thelma, tearing over te throw herself in beside me, and the uncle stood sizing us up with his arms on his hips.

  ‘Begad! I think they have me beat, right enough! I could get one a dem out, but the other would hop back in. Aaah! The floor’ll do me!’

  ‘Get up outa dat, the pair a yeh’s, or I’ll take me boot to yure arses if yeh’s don’t let me sit down!’ roared the grandad.

  I went stiff as a poker! ‘Don’t mind Grandad!’ Thelma muttered, nudging me. ‘His bark is worse than his bite. He’s only an aul pussycat. One word from Granny, and he shuts up!’

  I stared at his eyes twinkling, trying te make himself look serious. I knew he wanted a chair, because he was looking from the daddy and back te us. ‘I’m not putting me arse on that thing,’ he said, looking at the sofa. ‘Come on, girls! Be nice teh an old man and move yerselves over dere,’ he said, pointing with his glass.

  ‘Ah, will we let him sit down?’ I said, hopping up feeling sorry for the poor aul man getting tormented.

  ‘Yeah, let’s go up to my room.’

  ‘Have ye yer own room, Thelma?’

  ‘Yeah! Course! I’d hardly share with that shrimp of a brother of mine! Aaah! Perish the thought.’

  ‘Gawd! It’s big, isn’t it?’ I said, looking around at the big single bed with the lovely mahogany bed ends and the lovely white candlewick bedspread with pink roses and patterns in the middle. ‘Ye have loads a stuffed toys, and books, and dolls, and posters, Thelma!’ I stared at one with Elvis buckling his knees with the tight trousers crippling him and looking like he was enjoying himself with his eyes closed. But I think he’s re
ally dying with the pain a them trousers! ‘Ye have everything,’ I said, swinging me head around the room, looking at the dressing table with the three mirrors and three big drawers, and a jewellery box sitting on top. ‘Can I open it?’

  ‘Yeah, look! It’s a musical box.’ She opened it and a ballerina popped up with a mirror underneath, and little compartments for rings and bracelets and gold chains, and even a watch! I listened te the music, me mouth dropping open at the lovely sound. ‘That’s The Nutcracker Suite, by Tchaikovsky,’ Thelma said, seeing me delight.

  ‘That’s lovely,’ I said, hearing the music and watching the ballerina whirl around and around on top of the mirror with the red velvet box and the shiny gold and silver bracelets. ‘Where did ye get all this?’ I said, lifting up a silver bracelet with little charms of dogs and all different little miniature bikes and a woman in a long fur hat and coat. ‘This is lovely.’

  ‘Yes! I really like that. Daddy bought me that for my twelfth birthday, and aunts and uncles always buy me a present of a little piece of jewellery when they come to visit or we go to visit them.’

  I looked at her, seeing how nice and kind she really is. She’s very gentle and calm. Not a bit like the kids in the convent. Or me either! I’m not quiet the way she is. There’s a stillness inside her that comes from the inside out. There’s no fear or worry in her. She has her place here, with her mammy doing all the worrying for her from the day she was born. And the daddy looking after the lot of them. She’s more like a child, really, and will probably just grow old, that childishness staying with her most of her life. She’ll have a husband te take care of her, and bring her children up the way she was reared. Coming from a long line of respectable people. I want te be like that. Respectable. I wonder if I should become a nun! That might not be a bad idea. Ye get well fed, a roof over yer head, no money worries, what more could a body want? Hm! I might look inta that.