‘Oh, you rotter! That hurt. I’m telling!’
‘Quiet over there!’ roared Baldy at the other table, an he stopped eatin te glare at Renee an Sarah.
‘Dad! Sarah was in very big trouble today for throwing water at everyone and flooding the bathroom floor.’
‘Liar!’ screamed Sarah.
‘Yes, Dad!’ puffed Renee. ‘Miss Pennyfeather grabbed her ear and marched her off to Mr Jones, the janitor, to get the mop and bucket. And she was made to clean it up.’
‘No, Dad! It was Renee. I was trying to stop her,’ screamed Sarah.
‘Shut up!’ roared the dad.
‘And Renee bit me on my arm,’ shouted Rebecca, sidin wit Sarah.
‘Quiet the lot of you!’
‘No, she did not, Dad! Rebecca was pulling my hair, and Sarah ...’
‘Shut up!’ screamed the dad at a little fat young one sittin next te me. I dropped me eyes, cos he was lookin at me te see if I was joinin in the fight.
‘You’re a beast,’ whispered Sarah, givin Renee a slap.
‘That’s enough,’ roared Auntie, sittin opposite them. Renee started cryin.
‘That’s it!’ roared the dad. ‘One more word from anyone, and you will go to bed early without supper!’ An he glared at everyone, snortin an flickin the bit of hair tha flew inta his eye. An he took a stab wit his fork at the chop, an it shot off the plate. There was a silence as he watched it land on the floor an muttered as he bent down te pick it up. ‘My sainted grandmother!’ an everyone started sniggerin, then he flung it on the plate. An the laughin got louder. I buried me head in me plate, not wantin him te see me laughin.
‘Dad’s got a flyin chop,’ roared the fat one sittin next te me.
‘Dad’s got an empty tummy,’ muttered Baldy.
‘Would you like some cheese, dear?’ asked his wife, smilin.
‘No, I won’t bother. I’ve lost me appetite.’ An he stood up an lifted his newspaper from the little table by the fire an sat himself down in an armchair an started te read.
Everyone started te move, bringin their plates over te the sink, an the mother shouted, ‘Get your schoolbooks out! It’s time for homework!’
‘Mum! Mum! Someone pinched my pencil case. My treasured one,’ whined a young one, openin the belt of the mum’s bib tied behind her back while she was tryin te wash the dishes.
‘It was Tracy who pinched your pencil case!’ said Ida.
‘Out, now!’ screamed the mum, pushin Ida away an grabbin anyone she could get her hands on te push them out the door. ‘Homework! Bring your schoolbag now,’ she roared.
Baldy lifted his head over the newspaper an barked, ‘Brush your teeth!’ an looked at everyone, droppin his readin glasses down on his nose, an then shook his newspaper an buried his head in it again.
I headed te the bathroom, but it was crowded, wit everyone pushin an shovin te get at the sink.
‘Oi, Paddy!’ a young one said te me wit a toothbrush stickin outa her mouth.
‘Shut up! Don’t call me tha or I’ll stick tha brush down yer neck.’
‘Ooh!’ screamed bloody Renee. ‘I’m goin straight to Dad to tell him what you said to our Sammy.’
‘Go on, I’m not afraid!’ I shouted, an she rushed out the door, an Sarah roared after her.
‘Yeah! Tell Dad wot she said.’
‘Shut up, you!’ I roared.
‘I’m telling!’ she screamed, an she rushed out the door after Renee.
The little fat one slid out past me an roared, ‘You’re an Oirish Paddy!’ an ran down the stairs so fast she slipped an grabbed onta the banisters.
I headed fer me bed, bumpin inta some young ones robbin Renee’s Paddington Bear. The two of them glared at me an then pushed past, laughin an sayin, ‘We’ll hide it in Sammy’s bed.’
‘Yeah!’ said the other one. ‘And she’ll get the blame.’
I dived outa me clothes an jumped inta me nightdress, shuttin the door, an hopped inta bed, pullin the blankets over me head, hopin the dad wouldn’t come after me an I’d be in trouble. An hopin the others wouldn’t bother me, an I’d get a bit a peace.
36
I’ve been here fer weeks now, seven weeks, an I’ve had no word from me mammy. It’s gettin worse, the same routine every day. I sit in the yard on the bench every mornin after breakfast. I get a cup a tea an a sambidge at lunchtime. Then I have te sit on the bench again an wait fer the childre te come in from school. The heart is goin outa me. I’m not bothered about eatin. I don’t feel hungry. An the childre don’t talk te me, only te fight wit me all the time. An the people don’t bother wit me, except te side wit the childre when I fight back wit them fer pickin on me an callin me names. The English people don’t like the Irish. An I definitely don’t like the English.