Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes(12)
‘Give us one.’
‘No!’
‘Ye’re very mean!’ I said.
‘Don’t care, ye’re not gettin any.’
‘Right, I’m not playin wit ye no more!’ an I ran home te tell me ma. She was sittin by the fire lookin very annoyed when I dashed in te tell her about Nelly an Barney havin money an grapes an he wouldn’t share wit me. ‘Ah! Don’t be botherin me about them,’ she said. ‘They’re not bothered about us any more. Tha Nelly one is goin off te England tonight, an she won’t be back.’
I went runnin back out te stare at Barney. Yeah! He had his face washed an his hair combed, an he was wearin a lovely coat. Nelly must have picked up tha in the Iveagh Market.
When I got home, the fire was out, an me ma was sittin in the dark, starin at nothin.
We’re on our own now. There’s just me, the ma an me babby brother, Charlie. Me ma doesn’t talk much except te say, ‘Shut tha babby up! Give him his soother.’ He cries a lot. I think it’s cos he’s hungry. Sometimes me ma can’t light the fire, cos we’ve no coal. So she can’t boil the water te make the babby’s bottle or make a drop a tea. I’m always hungry, but the babby hasn’t learnt te get used te it yet. He won’t shut up! He just keeps on screamin. I’m worn out, rockin him up an down on me knee. Sometimes he’ll nod off fer me when I give him me finger te suck.
Last night when me ma was givin him his bottle, she suddenly jumped up an said, ‘Run, Martha, run,’ an she was gone like the wind out the door wit the babby in her arms. I turned te ask her wha’s wrong, but she was already down the stairs an flyin through the hall. I banged the door behind me an galloped after her. She was up the hill an aroun the corner before I knew wha was happenin. I pushed meself fer all I was worth, tryin te catch up, but she was halfway up Thomas Street.
‘Ma!’ I screamed. ‘Wait fer me, Ma! Wait fer me!’ But no, she just kept runnin, like Ronnie Delaney. Me chest was poundin, an me legs were seizin up, an I still didn’t know wha was wrong. I shouted at the top of me lungs, ‘No! I’m not comin, I’m not movin any more!’
Me ma half turned an shouted back, ‘The hospital! We have te get te the hospital! Don’t stop, keep goin.’
It’s the middle of the night, an there isn’t a soul on the streets. We fly off James’s Street an turn right down the hill, past the mad house, St Patrick’s Hospital. Me ma bursts through the doors of Dr Steevens’ Hospital an inta the out-patients. ‘He’s not breathin!’ she shouts. ‘The babby’s not breathin.’ She’s still runnin when she slams the babby inta the arms of a doctor.
‘He took a convulsion when I was feedin him. He turned blue, an I couldn’t get him te breathe.’
The doctors an nurses rushed aroun the babby, an we were put outside te wait. They told me ma te go home; they’re keepin the babby in. She went te take a look at him, an when she came out she said we have te pray he’ll be all right.
* * *
We went te the hospital te collect the babby. He looks lovely, like a little china doll wit big blue eyes an white curly hair. His eyes are like saucers starin out at ye from his tiny white face. I can’t squeeze him yet, cos me ma says he’s delicate. So I just keep lookin at him an makin faces, tryin te make him laugh.
8
Me ma says I have te go back te school now, cos I’m nearly six. So she brings me up te Francis Street, an I start straight away. I’m in the First Holy Communion class, an today they told us all about St Patrick. He’s the saint fer Ireland. He was kidnapped by the English an brought here te mind the sheep on a very lonely mountain, an he was only a child! I felt very sorry fer tha poor young fella, so I did. All by himself an no mammy te mind him. The teacher was very impressed wit me when I repeated the story back fer her, an she said I can make me Communion !
Me ma’s all excited. She said the nuns sorted me Communion clothes an we can go te the shop in Francis Street an pick them out. I picked out a lovely red coat, an me ma said, ‘No! It has te be blue fer Our Lady.’ Then I saw a gorgeous pink one. I’d look lovely in tha, but me ma said ye can only wear blue. So I said I wouldn’t wear it, an the aul one in the shop said Our Lady was watchin me, an I’d made her cry. Then I picked out a lovely Italian frock. Ye’d think I was gettin married in tha! But me ma said, ‘No!’ If I got tha I couldn’t afford the coat. Tha sounded grand, an me mind was made up. I’d take the Italian frock. So then me ma started te lose her rag, an she was grindin her teeth. The aul one said I couldn’t make the collection fer the money if I didn’t have a blue coat fer Our Lady, cos I wouldn’t be dressed properly. An me ma wouldn’t get any money. So we ended up wit the blue coat. I hate it, I do! It has no style.