‘No!’ me ma said. ‘But tha’s not how they see it! I’m goin. Come on, Martha.’
I looked at James, an he was very downhearted. My heart was breakin, too. ‘I am sorry, dear, very sorry!’ he said te me in a whisper.
I turned after me ma, flyin out the gate an stoppin te look up an down the road, then she headed off in the direction of the bus. I hurried after her, lookin back at James. He lifted his hand slowly an gave me a wave, then turned away an went in, closin the door. I felt like me whole world had emptied, an there was no one left but me ... an me ma.
It was drizzlin an dark, an I pulled me collar of me coat up, thinkin me new coat will be destroyed wit the rain. Only a short while ago I was in heaven. Now we’re worse off than ever before. I had a feelin it was too good te last. Nothin good ever lasts fer long. An now it’s gone. Me ma looked aroun at me trailin behind her an started te run. ‘Hurry up, Martha. The bus is comin.’
I rushed after her an jumped on the bus. We sat beside each other, not sayin a word. Then I remembered, ‘Ma! Where’s the bag wit our clothes?’
‘Ah, them!’ she said, turnin her head away in disgust. ‘They’re gone long ago. Someone robbed me bag when I put it down beside me in a café.’
‘So everythin’s gone,’ I muttered, lookin out at the dark streets, drizzlin, not a soul in sight an everythin closed up fer the night. I could see houses flashin past wit big gardens an trees an lights on. The people cosy inside, probably sittin beside warm fires, thinkin of stirrin themselves outa their armchairs an headin off te warm beds wit soft mattresses an big eiderdowns te snuggle under. I looked aroun the bus. The conductor was sittin restin himself wit his eyes closed an his legs stretched out. A coloured man wit a big turban on his head, wearin blue overalls an a big heavy overcoat, sat starin ahead, goin wit the rockin of the bus an holdin his sambidges, wrapped in bread paper, loosely between his hands on his lap. The whites of his eyes was bloodshot, an he looked like he was very tired, but this is somethin he just has te do, an there’s nothin tha can change it. I wanted te ask him was he fed up an tell him I was feelin the same. An maybe he’s feelin lonely, an we could cheer each other up an laugh. An maybe put our heads together an come up wit a plan te make life easier, tha we could be family or somethin. I stared at him, thinkin, no, he wouldn’t know what I was talkin about, an I’m still a child. People just laugh at the likes of me. Things are not workin out the way I thought they would. I’m not able te bring in any money, so we’re lost without tha. I don’t know wha te think or do any more. It’s just beyond me.
‘Come on, move,’ me ma said. ‘We’re gettin off,’ an we stepped onta the shiny wet footpath. All the shops were closed, an the rain was gettin heavier now. It was blowin inta our faces, pushin us back, an we had te fight te keep movin. ‘Jaysus Christ! What a fuckin night.’ Me ma was startin te cry. I looked at her face collapsin, an she moaned, ‘No one gives a fuck about ye when ye’re homeless. We might as well be dead fer all anyone cares.’ An she looked aroun her at the empty streets, her face red, an her nose runnin. An she wiped her nose wit the edge of her headscarf.
‘Don’t cry, Ma. It’s all right! Look, Ma, we’re together again, nothin’s changed. We need te be careful, tha’s all. An we’ll come up wit somethin. So stop worryin, Ma!’ I held her eyes, an she quietened herself down.
‘Yeah! There’s no point in lookin fer anyone te help us. Fuck them!’ she said, lookin aroun her te curse the world. We walked on, rushin through the rain, in a hurry te nowhere.
We passed a church an stopped. ‘It’s all locked up,’ me ma said, lookin at the dark church. ‘We can’t go in there.’ We moved on, lookin at the dark streets ahead of us. There’s nowhere we can go in an sit down. ‘Jaysus! I curse the day I was ever born,’ me ma started te cry again.
‘I’m really fed up, too, Ma! I’m freezin from this rain, an I’m exhausted.’
I was talkin te meself. Me ma was mutterin away, lost in her own world. ‘We’ll go back,’ she said.
‘Go back where, Ma? To the man?’
‘No! Tha’s no good. Te the childre. I’ll get me own place in Dublin. An tha bandy aul bastard won’t stop me.’
Me heart was sinkin. Even the mention of tha aul fella was makin me want te get sick. ‘No, Ma! Tha’s not a good idea at all. Keep far away from him, Ma. He’s no good.’
‘Yes, I know tha!’ me ma shouted. ‘But what else can we do?’ An she waved her arms aroun her. ‘Anyway, I’m not goin back te him. Not on yer life I’m not. No! I want te get the childre, an I’m not goin anywhere near him.’