An I said, ‘Never mind, Ma! The English don’t shit, tha’s why they look as if they’re in pain all the time.’ I stared at the woman, feelin fire in me belly. An she turned the young one te the door an flew out.
Me ma laughed an looked at me. ‘Wha happened? Why did ye say tha? Did she do somethin on ye?’
‘No, Ma! But people seem te think we’re dirt.’
‘Ah, fuck them!’ me ma said. ‘Let’s go.’
We walked through a big shop, an I stopped te look at the childre’s coats. I tried on a pink coat wit brass shiny buttons an a half-belt, an wandered down te show me ma, who was lookin at jumpers.
‘Look at this, Martha! Isn’t it lovely?’
‘Yeah, Ma,’ I said, lookin aroun te see if anyone was watchin me.
‘Come on, I’m goin,’ me ma said, an headed fer the door. I followed her out slowly, ready te roar, ‘Wait, Ma! I want ye te buy this coat,’ if I was followed. Tha way no one could say me ma was robbin, an I could play the innocent. But no one followed. An I rushed off, catchin up wit me ma an havin another look aroun before I started te walk wit her.
We got off the bus an walked te the man’s house. The house was huge, an I stood on the step while me ma rang the doorbell. An I was delighted wit me new coat. I looked very respectable. The door opened, an an elderly man, he could have been in his forties, or even in his fifties, smiled at us an said, ‘Come in!’ An he stood back, holdin the door open, an we stepped inta the long hall wit a shiny mahogany table an a big statue sittin on it of a woman wit an arra in her hand. I could smell furniture polish an food cookin. An there was a lovely rug hangin on the wall wit old pictures, an a carpet runnin down the centre of the polished floorboards.
‘Come in, my dears! Let me take your coats.’ I took me new pink coat off an handed it te him. He bent down an smiled at me, ‘And you are?’ he said, takin me coat.
‘Martha!’ I said.
‘What a lovely name,’ he said as he hung me coat on a coat stand beside a big pot holdin walkin sticks wit silver tips an black umbrellas. Then he hung me ma’s up an rushed us inta a big room wit a huge fireplace an a roarin fire. ‘Make yourselves comfortable. Come close to the fire,’ an he smacked a big cushion, fixin another on the back, an waved me ma inta a big leather armchair beside the fire, wit a table an a lamp lightin on it. Me ma hesimitated, smilin at me, an sat herself down on the edge. Then he looked at me, standin not knowin wha te do. ‘Come! Sit over here by the fire, dear,’ an he pulled a big leather stool over beside me ma, right in front of the fire.
‘Thanks, Mister,’ I said shyly.
‘Call me James,’ he said, givin a big smile showin a mouth of gorgeous white teeth. Then I stared at his face. He only had one eye, the other one was marble. An he had a terrible scar under it. It was all white an pulled together in lumps. He saw me lookin an watched me wit his one eye, lettin me take it in. He was still smilin, so I looked at his good eye, wantin him te know I didn’t think he was ugly.
‘Thanks, Mister!’ I whispered.
He nodded an whispered back, ‘Thank you, Martha.’ Then he rubbed his hands together an said, ‘You must be famished. The food’s in the oven. Dinner won’t be long,’ an he walked out, closin the door behind him.
‘Ma! He’s a terribly nice gentleman,’ I whispered, leanin close te her.
‘Ah, indeed he is,’ me ma said, smilin an lookin aroun her. ‘It’s true wha they say, strangers will help ye when ye’re down, quicker than yer own family.’ I remembered me ma’s family, an them throwin us out onta the street when I was young. There’s no point in botherin them.
We heard dishes rattlin outside the door, then it opened an the man rolled in two trays on wheels, an left it, rushin over te bring a small table in front of the fire. ‘Supper by the fire! More cosy!’ he said, an set the table wit knives an forks, an a plate wit a silver cover on it. An he whipped off the cover, an there was lovely meat, an gravy, an carrots, an white lumps tha looked like potatoes. ‘Casserole and dumplings! My favourite,’ he sang. ‘Tuck in!’ he said te me. I looked at him an laughed. ‘Go on! Put some meat on those bones!’
I started te eat, an it was meltin in me mouth. ‘Did you cook this all by yerself, Mister?’
‘James!’ he said, swallowin a big mouthful. ‘Yes! Indeed I did, little lady.’
‘Do ye not have a wife te cook fer ye?’
‘No!’ he said, concentratin on gettin a piece of meat onta his fork. ‘I’m a widower,’ he said, munchin on his food an lookin at me wit his good eye.