I started te cry, but a very nice young woman, who was dressed lovely, came over te see wha happened, an she smiled at me an said te me ma, ‘Don’t worry! Here’s one and six, go and buy some more milk,’ an me ma an me was happy again.
Nelly opened the door an stood lookin at us when we got there. But she let us in when me ma said she had the messages.
Me ma took me aroun te John’s Lane Church te light a penny candle. Then she knelt down te say a prayer. I loved lookin at all the little candles burnin an the smoke curlin from them. An the grease drippin offa them when they melted. I was squeezin an feelin them, an gettin me fingers burnt, chewin on the bits a wax an tryin te put me fingers in the little hole where ye put the money, wonderin how ye got the money out. An then me ma hissed at me an told me te go away from them. So I wandered aroun the church an stopped in front of a box. I’d seen people go in an out before, an I decided te have a look. I went in an closed the door, an it was very dark. I was afraid, but I decided te sit down on the kneeler an wait, but nothin happened. So I decided te make whisperin noises like I’d heard other people do. But nothin happened. So I tried te get out, an the door wouldn’t open! I was locked in the dark!
Well, I nearly lost me mind. I banged me fists on the door, an I screamed fer all I was worth. I heard feet runnin, an an aul one wit a black shawl wrapped aroun her head whips open the door. The light hurt me eyes, but as soon as I had me senses back I shot out the door, an the woman grabbed me. ‘Tha’s not for playin in,’ she snorted at me. I looked up at her. I was red-faced an pumpin sweat. ‘There now, ye gorra fright, but ye’ll be OK. Come on wit me an we’ll say a prayer.’ Me ma was on the other side of the chapel an was pretendin she didn’t know me. She doesn’t like me te make a show a her.
The aul one tightened the shawl aroun her chin an pulled me down te the statue. ‘Now!’ she explained, ‘This here is the statue of St Jude. He’s the saint fer hopeless causes.’ She joined her hands an held them high in the air, an lifted her eyes up te the statue, an started te pray in a loud voice. I was sittin beside her on the kneeler, an she told me te hold me hands together an pray.
I didn’t know wha te say, so I just made it up. I was sayin, ‘Hally, Mally, Vecha, a do,’ an the aul one smiled an nodded at me, an said I was great. Then the ma came down the chapel, an we went out inta the sunshine. I felt a very good girl.
7
The noise woke me up, an I sat up in the bed wonderin wha was happenin. Me ma was standin at the side of the bed, shiverin an moanin. Nelly told me an Barney te get up an put our clothes on. I saw blood on the floor an blood streamin down me ma’s legs. Nelly threw her coat over her shoulders an shot outa the door. She was back in a minute, an a load of aul women streamed in behind her. They started fussin aroun the ma. One aul one picked me ma’s only frock up from the chair an swooped down te wipe up the blood from the floor. I didn’t think tha was a good idea, cos what is me ma goin te wear now? Another aul one grabbed me an said, ‘Here!’ handin me a shoppin bag. ‘Go down an get the potatoes an messages fer the dinner.’
I’d never been sent fer messages, an we didn’t get potatoes, but I thought this was a great idea. So I held onta the bag an looked up at the aul one, waitin fer her te give me the money. But all she did was roar at me an say, ‘Go on! Go down te the vegebale shop, yer mammy needs the messages.’
So I set off confused. I thought ye needed money te buy the potatoes. When I got te the shop, I handed up the bag te the woman behind the counter. I knew what I wanted now. I’d heard me ma an Nelly talk often enough about it. ‘Ye can give me a bit a bacon an cabbage, an potatoes, an a load a good butter, an two loaves a bread, an a bottle a milk,’ I said. ‘An a bit a tea an sugar. An gimme a nice big cake fer the tea.’
‘Grand,’ yer woman said. ‘Now where’s your note wit the money in it?’
‘I haven’t gorrit,’ I said.
She stared at me an said, ‘Where’s yer mammy?’
‘At home,’ I said. ‘They sent me fer the messages.’
‘Who did?’
‘Granny Rafters did.’
‘Well, you can go home an tell tha aul Granny Rafters I’m not behind this counter fer the good a me health. Ye need money if ye want te eat!’
When I got home, they wouldn’t let me inta the room. ‘Go off an play!’ An they slammed the door shut! I called fer Tommy Weaver, an we came back an sat outside our room on the landin. We watched the commotion, wit aul ones runnin up an down the stairs. ‘Wha’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Why’s me ma sick?’