Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes(180)

‘But how are ye goin te do tha, Ma?’

‘We can watch an wait. An go in when he’s not there. He won’t be expectin us te turn up.’

‘OK, Ma,’ I said slowly, thinkin it would be lovely te see the childre again. I left it at tha, too tired te ask any more questions, like how are we goin te get our own place?

‘We go tomorrow. I have the ten pounds tha man gave me when I was goin out te get ye today. We’ll buy our tickets, an this time tomorrow night, we should be on the mail boat headin back.’

We walked on, stoppin at traffic lights, wonderin which way we’d go. Only a dark road up ahead wit houses an trees, nothin up there. Down te the left, a high wall wit fencin over it an a big factory behind it. We turned right, headin down past shops shut up fer the night an a picture house showin a cowboy fillum startin next week. I had a look. Mexican outlaws swaggerin on their big boots wit spurs hangin outa them, holdin a gun in each hand an wearin big hats. ‘Desperados on the Run’, it said! It would be nice te see tha, wonder how much it costs te get in. I looked, an me ma was halfway down the road. I hate tha, now I’d have te run te catch up. She never waits fer me. ‘Wait, Ma!’

‘Come on,’ she said, turnin aroun, then moved off again. We crossed the road an turned onta a narra street wit cobblestones an old houses tha looked like they were ready te fall down. People came outa a pub, slammin the door open, an it swung back wit the force. An two aul fellas were shoutin an singin, ‘I Belong te Glasgow’, an then one of them started te tap dance on his bandy legs. When he got te ‘So what’s the matter with Glasgow, cause it’s going roun and roun’, he sang it very fast, an I sidestepped him, keepin me eyes on him at a distance. ‘Come ere, chicken. Do a dance wiv me!’ he said, roarin an wavin his arms out at me. The younger fella eyed me ma, who was standin waitin fer me.

‘Come on, Martha,’ she shouted, an I moved off.

‘Ah, no! Don’t go. Come back in an ave a drink wiv us!’ the older fella wit the flat nose roared, makin a run fer me ma wit his arms wide open.

He wrapped himself aroun me ma, who was laughin an tryin te get free, sayin, ‘Ah, no! I don’t drink, an we’re in a hurry.’

I went up an stood beside her, watchin yer man an sayin, ‘Come on, Ma. We have te go.’

‘Go on, Martha. Tell er te stay, sure ya only live once.’ I was eyein him, an the young fella was watchin an laughin.

A woman about me ma’s age came down the street wit a newspaper filled wit chips. ‘Jimmy MacVeigh! Yer missus is lookin fer ye! Ye’re te go home.’

Jimmy pulled away from me ma an looked at her. An puffed his chest up, dribblin all over his chin, an clenched his fists, shoutin, ‘Tell tha woman te go an mind her own business. I’m about me man’s business.’

The woman laughed, an opened her parcel a chips, an took a handful, an said, ‘Tell her yerself. She’s on her way down te get ye.’

Then she filled her mouth, an Jimmy was watchin her an said, ‘Give’s a few a them chips, Angie, me darlin.’ An he staggered over te Angie te help himself te her chips.

The younger fella said te me ma, ‘Ye don’t live around here, then. Where are ye goin this hour?’

‘Ah, we’re movin on,’ me ma said. ‘There’s nothin here fer us.’

‘Look, do ye want te come wiv me an have a cup a tea an a few chips?’

Me ma looked at me. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. I hesimitated, thinkin of the chips an hot tea.

‘Come on,’ he said, grabbin me ma’s elbow. ‘It’s just aroun the corner.’

We went inta a café an sat down at an empty table. An yer man went up te the counter an ordered three plates a chips an three cups a tea, an came back an sat down beside me ma. I sat opposite them an waited fer me chips, an yer man was talkin away te her. The chips an tea arrived, an I made short work a them. When the plate was empty an the last of the tea drained outa the cup, I put it down, feelin very sleepy now. It was nice an warm in here, an lovely te sit down. They were still eatin, an yer man was talkin away, usin his hands all the time te make his point. Me ma was listenin an half closin her eyes an lookin away. She does tha when she’s wit strangers. ‘I know, yes, tut, tut, tha’s terrible!’ she kept sayin an smilin.

I looked aroun me, an two people were sittin at another table. An aul one wearin a head scarf, wit her ears stickin out an the scarf tied on her chin, was talkin away te an aul fella. ‘I sez te him, I sez, there wos ten fags,’ then she stopped te think, lookin up te heaven. ‘No! I’m tellin yer lies. There wos nine fags in tha packet!’