Ma, I've Got Meself Locked Up in the Mad House Read online

  ‘Whadyemean “dead”?’

  ‘He is, Martha! He threw himself offa the top of the balcony!’

  Silence. I’m trying to take this in.

  ‘Did ye hear me, Martha?’

  ‘Where are you, Dinah?’

  ‘Over at the new hospital. Are ye comin in now?’

  ‘I’m on my way!’

  ‘Hurry, Martha! Me ma is in an awful state! An Gerry went mad! They asked him te identify Harry, cos me ma couldn’t look at Harry, an Gerry kept shakin Harry, screamin at him te wake up. Come in, Martha! I’m on me own. I don’t know wha te do!’

  ‘Take it easy, Dinah love. I’m on me way.’

  I dropped the phone and ran to get my car keys. No! No! Harry! Why didn’t you wait? Why couldn’t you have phoned me? I tore through the hall, grabbing coat, keys, tobacco and papers. Jesus! I need a smoke! Can’t. Just keep going!

  I slammed out the front door and raced for the car, me little Fiat 127. I reversed out of the garage by ear, stopped by the hedge opposite. It was put up to protect the wall and stop people climbing it and getting demolished. Right, Daisy! Move!

  4

  * * *

  I tore up through the gears and was already locking the steering to the right before I hit the turn, taking it on two wheels. Gerry! Left to identify poor Harry? Jesus Christ! What’s going on? Poor Gerry is retarded! He has the mind of a child. Oh, sweet divine Jesus! The poor kid! He was born after I was sent away to the convent. He is the youngest, and they never cut the umbilical cord. He and the ma are still attached.

  The lights turned to amber. I hesitated for a split second – put the foot down or . . .? Right! Go!

  I gunned across the road just as the lights turned red, a car caught in my peripheral vision coasting to a slow-down. He suddenly gets the green light. His engine gunned up, and the driver came barrelling across me, straight from the right.

  Jesus! Help! I clamped my feet down on the brake and the clutch simultaneously, tearing down through the gears, landing in first. Then nursed the steering to the left, locking hard again to the right, managing to avoid the footpath. Then spun the wheel furiously, straightening up again.

  I could see the terror in the whites of the other driver’s eyes as he came thundering towards me. He, too, suddenly woke up to the fact we are not sitting at home in armchairs. I could almost hear his prayer as he screamed.

  Help, Mammy. Help! We’re going to get killed. No, no, no! Please God! I prayed as our eyes locked.

  He wrestled the steering wheel, tearing up onto the footpath, barely missing the high granite wall bordering someone’s property. I continued to slide on the black inky road shining with oily rain. My heart sat in my mouth as the road slid from under me. I gripped the steering wheel, holding on for me life. Hoping and praying a car wouldn’t come out of the left turn.

  The brakes screamed in agony. Smoke belched into the car, filling my nostrils through the open window. Then there was silence. My heart belted out a tango. I slowly released the grim death lock on the steering wheel, peeling my hands off, seeing my knuckles are snow-white.

  I looked back slowly. The other driver was still slumped over the steering wheel. I hesitated, about to get out on me shaking legs and see if he was OK. It was then he lifted his head, looking in my direction. He’s OK! Oh, thank God! But he looks badly shocked.

  I drove on. Oh, Jesus! Let that be a lesson. Cars are lethal weapons, and they need to be treated with respect.

  Then it hit me like a punch to the stomach. Me head saw stars. Harry is dead? Really dead? Gone? But he can’t be! I felt suddenly like I was falling. I don’t want to see that. No! I can’t face any more! Too much has been happening to me, I can’t even look after myself right now. No! I don’t want to go back down that road. Jackser? Christ, no! And the ma? Fucking never! They will drag me right back. Wanting me to get involved in their problems, ringing me in the middle of the night. Particularly the girls. ‘Wha did ye mean it’s one a clock in the mornin? We only rang ye te say hello!’ Then Charlie! When he’s drunk, he’ll ring at bloody four o’clock in the morning! Crying, ‘I’m feelin very depressed, Martha! I’m goin te kill meself.’ Jaysus! Then the ma! ‘Listen, Martha. Cough. Can ye help me?’

  NO! I don’t believe a word of this. There’s no such thing as Harry being dead!

  I spent most of my early life helping them, and all through my adult life. But they won’t help themselves, and now I can hardly look after myself with all that’s been happening. But I’ve no one to turn to. So I get on with it like everyone else and paddle my own bloody canoe. I’ve tried to put distance between me and them. They only turn against me in the end anyway.

  Oh, Jesus, Jesus! Why do these two bastards keep coming back to haunt my life? I sat staring down the road, seeing Jackser’s face menacing over me. A giant, ready at the drop of a hat to beat me to death! I could feel the dirty black grease on the stinking floorboards as I lay crouched, my hands out in front of my face, jerking with every twitch he made. Getting ready to protect whatever part of my little body . . .

  Stop! That’s enough! Open your eyes. It’s over! Hundreds of years ago, Martha. I put me hands on me forehead. Oh, dear God, what is happening to me lately? I’m disappearing fast down the plughole. NO! Stop! Get a grip, Martha.

  I lifted my head up slowly from my arms, sitting up straight and letting air out through my nose, then inhaled deeply and slowly. He’s only a little old man now. Pathetic! I could fuck him under the wheels of my car if it came down to it. But that will never happen. He would have to have a death wish if he even looked crooked at me! No, the problem is I don’t want to resurrect old memories left dead and buried. I’m not able for anything or anyone these days. My health needs looking after.

  On the other hand. If poor Harry really does need your help, you can’t turn your back on him. No! Not for a minute do I believe he is dead. Bleedin drama merchants! No! But you can’t turn your back on him. I never could, it’s not in me nature. Right! At least go over to the hospital and see what’s really going on. It may only be the usual ‘Abbey Acting’. Fuck! The drama outa that lot! ‘Martha! Ye have te come over quick! It’s me ma! She’s after takin a heart attack! Hurry!’ I break the sound barrier getting there only to see the ma sitting up, large as life, with not a bother on her.

  ‘MA! What’s going on? They said ye were havin a heart attack!’ I snort, waving me hand at the lot of them all sitting around drinking tea. ‘I thought ye were at bleedin death’s door, Ma!’

  ‘Wha?’ she says, looking at me, then looking at them for hints on what to do next. ‘Well, eh! Oh, Jesus! I’ve a pain in me chest! I’m not well, Martha!’

  ‘But ye were OK a minute ago, Ma. When I walked through that door there!’

  ‘Yeah, well, ye see, cough! It’s the pain. It does come an go. But I’m all right at the minute. Eh, cough! I was wonderin, Martha, if ye could lend us a couple a bob?’

  Hmm, yeah. Always making a fool outa me. Still, you never know. Supposing it’s true?

  It’s not! I shook me head. But go anyway. Right, you silly cow! Drive slowly this time. Take it easy.

  I drove on, gently putting the car into fourth gear, letting it coast at thirty miles an hour. I’m definitely very much chastised. I took in a deep breath, feeling very glad to be still in one piece. Thank God the other fellow came to no harm either!

  I looked up at the clock perched on top of the library. Twenty past eleven. It’s late! There’s not even a soul to be seen walking through the village; everything is locked up. I suppose everyone is getting an early night after wasting themselves on the weekend. Monday night. Yeah, start of another week ahead, with everyone facing into another day’s grind. That’s for the lucky ones – those that still have the jobs. They’re mostly the civil servants. A lot of the shops are lying empty now. There’s no money about. So no one is doing any business. Nowadays, the shops won’t even let you away with a penny if you are short.

  ‘That’s the eq
uivalent of three whole old pennies! Come back when ye have the right money!’ they screech, snatching back the packet of Lyons tea.

  But I’m a lot luckier than most, so I’m not going to complain. There’s young ones with law degrees and medical degrees all down queuing at the dole office, hoping for a start. They end up sitting for days outside the American Embassy, praying for one of the Donnelly visas.

  I headed into town, passing very few cars as I drove down O’Connell Street. A few taxi drivers stood huddled together outside the Carlton Cinema. They threw the odd word to each other, blowing on their hands and stamping their feet, trying to keep out the cold, damp night air. Then they shot their heads up and down the street, hopeful of getting a few stragglers coming out of the pubs. The ones, anyway, with a few quid still left in their pockets, getting ready to take a taxi home. Very few people do that. I watched as they dropped their shoulders and glanced back to each other, carrying on their inane conversation. I could see the look of disgust and disappointment. It was the thought at losing all hope of making a few bob tonight.

  5

  * * *

  Right! Here we are. I turned the car in through the entrance and straight into the car park, manoeuvring around broken glass, rubble and an old bicycle wheel. I headed over to a high wall with a bit of light thrown in from the avenue. Jesus! The state of the place. It looks like a bombsite!

  I switched off the engine and reached for a smoke, taking my time rolling the tobacco. Then I stuck it in my mouth and lit up, taking a deep drag into my lungs. They immediately started protesting, and I spluttered, coughed and wheezed, trying to get a breath. These things are going to kill me.

  Enough! Get yourself moving. You’ve got to face it. Come on! You know it’s not too bad.

  I heaved myself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me, locking it. Then sucked greedily on the cigarette as I dragged myself forward, moving out of the darkness. I steadily got closer, moving in to the bright lights of the hospital entrance. I stopped to look up at the neon light flashing over the hospital entrance: ‘Casualty’. Me heart gave a kick. I took in a deep breath and threw down the cigarette, crushing it under me shoe. Then I took in another deep breath, feeling the cold night air sting my chest.

  For Jesus’ sake, get going!

  I pushed the door in and immediately saw the Accident & Emergency sign and headed straight for it. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, moving towards a nurse writing at a desk.

  She ignored me and continued writing.

  ‘I’m looking for my brother, Harry,’ I said, shaking her arm. ‘I was told he was taken in here.’ I could see cubicles all around me, and I wondered which one he was in. ‘Can you show me where he is, please?’ I said, looking at her and ready to move off and look for myself. ‘I need to see him! Where’s the ma?’ I looked around the room, but there was no sign of any of them.

  ‘Who are you?’ the nurse asked, peering at me closely.

  ‘Martha Long. I’m his sister. His big sister. Where is he?’ My eyes flew around the room.

  ‘Oh! Would you please come with me,’ she said, heading off to a room.

  I followed quickly behind, anxious to see Harry. Maybe it was a mistake. He’s OK after all. He’s probably badly injured, but he’ll recover. That lot panic over nothing. My heart was going like the clappers as I pushed in behind the nurse.

  The room was empty. I looked around. There’s nobody here! It’s just a waiting room. ‘Where’s my mother? And Dinah? And where’s Gerry?’ I stared at the nurse, wondering what is going on. Knowing, but not wanting to hear.

  Her mouth opened. I stared, then she closed it again and gave a little cough in the back of her throat. Her eyes flicked away from me and trailed the ground, settling on a seat, and she slowly lowered herself down onto it, indicating with her arm that I should do the same. ‘Sit down for a minute,’ she said.

  I did as she asked. Never taking my eyes off her.

  ‘Harry is dead,’ she said quietly, staring at me with a look of infinite sadness. ‘He was already dead when he arrived in here. There was nothing we could do for him.’

  She stopped, searching my face to see how I was taking this information.

  I didn’t! It’s only a conversation. Something terrible has happened, but it’s not real.

  ‘Did he die instantly? Would he have suffered? Was he conscious after he hit the ground?’ I was talking about someone else.

  ‘No, he would have died instantly,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He would not have been aware of any pain. He fell from a great height.’

  I listened, taking in every word, seeing him hit the ground. But not in real life. But it was over instantly. He would not have felt the pain. It was too quick!

  ‘Your mother . . .’

  I lifted my head, pulling myself back to listen to what else she had to tell me. She gave another little cough, clearing her throat. ‘Was, ahem, not able to identify Harry, and we asked Gerry,’ she said slowly, watching me closely.

  I stared, horrified, dreading what was coming next.

  ‘He, ahem, became distraught, and started shaking Harry, screaming at him to wake up. We did not realise . . .’

  ‘I know,’ I said, interrupting her. ‘Gerry has subnormal intelligence. He would not have been able to cope with that. He wouldn’t understand, and my mother – how was she?’

  ‘Your mother . . .’ The nurse sighed, thinking about this. ‘She kept saying it was a mistake. Nobody told her. She was put into the police car when she came running down to find out what happened. She thought it was one of her other children. The police drove her here. They came in behind the ambulance. But she didn’t know what was happening.’

  I stared at her blonde curly hair under the white cap, her blue eyes filled with such compassion, willing me to understand she sympathised. Seeing her, but not seeing. The haze around her hypnotising me. My vision filled with the pain and brutal torment my mother must have felt sitting here being told her lovely Harry was dead.

  ‘Where is he? I would like to go and see him now, Nurse.’ I stood up and moved myself towards the door.

  She didn’t move, just looked at me like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it. ‘Are you sure you are up to it?’ she asked me, looking worried.

  Ah! She thinks I am going to react badly because of the ma and poor Gerry. ‘Yes, yes. I am fine, thank you. But I really would like to see him now, please.’

  ‘OK. He has been taken down to the morgue. I’ll take you down there,’ she said reluctantly, standing up slowly, still not convinced I wouldn’t be trouble.

  I whipped open the door and stood back, indicating I would brook no further discussion. That got her moving. I can’t stand it. I have to see him for myself! I thought, feeling numb inside.

  We walked through Casualty, passing the cubicles. They probably had him in one of them, but they’re only for the living. I glanced through the open curtain at a doctor asking a man how often he got the pain. You have to be alive to feel pain. Harry didn’t get a chance to lie there and tell them he was in pain. He’s no more! I thought, looking around at the patients waiting to be seen.

  One fellow was sitting on a chair, the leg of his trousers rolled up and his foot stuck up in the air, his big toe looking very prominent. It was black and blue, and quite swollen, and your man was looking very worried. He was staring at the toe like it was about to explode, and looking around to see if anyone was going to take pity on him and rush over and start fussing around him. A fat little woman with a red face and a red coat to match – it was much too tight for her, and she had to leave some of the buttons open so she could breathe – sat next to him.

  ‘Are ye all right, son?’ she said, leaning in to get a better look at the toe. ‘Is it painin ye much?’ she asked, looking very worried up at his face.

  ‘Yeah, Ma! The pain is somethin brutal!’ he gasped out, with his face screwing up to make sure she got the message.

  ‘Right! Wait there
,’ she whispered, glancing down at her bag of messages sitting next to her chair. Then, catching my eye, she rolled her eyes to heaven, meaning It’s terrible bein a mother! An he’s a fella, they can’t take pain!

  I lowered my eyes to her, barely acknowledging her plight. My heart felt dead.

  ‘I’ll just run over an ask tha nurse how much longer we’ll have te wait before we get te see a doctor,’ she grunted, trying to lift herself out of the plastic chair.

  I moved on, trailing the nurse out of Casualty, envying that woman her place next to her son. Harry never lay here, bruised but alive. No, my head told me. I had been fooling myself.

  6

  * * *

  I left behind the last sense of hope as I lengthened my stride to catch up with the nurse now taking off down a corridor. I matched pace with her, neither of us speaking as we walked the long silent corridor. The air was cooler down here, and the light was dim.

  We reached the end of the corridor, turned right, then left. Another long corridor, white – everything white. White shiny doors, white walls, white-tiled floor, white ceiling. Everything clinically white. The silence thickened as we rounded another corner, heading deeper into the bowels of the hospital. I could see the faint wisps of air coming out of my mouth as we breathed in the heavy cold air, the only sound coming from the squeak of the nurse’s rubber-soled shoes and the smacking of my leather-shod feet on the tiles. The rhythm of them sounding like the death march.

  The dead house! Everyone down here is dead. Waiting for the last act to be performed by the living. Then they will be no more. Claimed by the earth, and another newborn takes their place. I felt a shiver as something stirred deep inside me – another hope gone. We don’t last for ever. A faint cloud settled deep inside me as I felt another loss. We walked on – an endless labyrinth of corridors. Then the nurse moved forward and gently pushed open a door.