It’s dawnin on me, I’ve been robbed! I was believin I had a mammy. An Jackser was a man, an they were in charge. But they’re nothin. I’ve been rearin me fuckin self. An now they’re goin home, an I’m goin te be locked up! Well, tha’s it! I’m finished wit them. An when I’m sixteen, I’ll make me own way in the world, an I won’t ask anyone fer anythin. An no one will ever tell me wha te do. I’ll take orders from no one. An it would be a very brave man tha would lay a hand on me, cos he’s goin te fuckin lose it. I’m no Sally!
I lifted me back up straight, takin a big breath in through me nose, an folded me arms, gettin ready fer whatever was goin te happen te me. Jackser stirred, lookin at the door, an said, ‘We’d better get movin. We left tha Charlie fella watchin the kids. Come on, Sally!’ an he nodded his head at her an stood up. ‘Remember what I said now. Give them no information,’ he whispered over at me.
‘Ye needn’t worry yerself, I’ll tell them nothin,’ I said, givin him a dirty look.
‘Ye better not,’ he said, cockin his eyebrow, tryin te make me afraid.
‘No, I won’t,’ I said, lookin away from him, not bothered, only carin he’d take it out on me ma an the poor childre if he couldn’t get his hands on me.
Jackser rattled the doorknob an banged on the door. I heard keys rattlin, an the door opened. ‘We’ll be ready fer ye any minute now,’ a man said, puttin his head in the door.
Jackser turned te me, ‘Well, goodbye now. It’s not long fer ye te wait.’ An he looked out, sayin, ‘Come on, they’re bringin up the other kids now. The Black Maria is here te take ye’s.’ I could hear shoutin an cryin.
‘Come on!’ the man said, noddin at me.
Me heart started te pound again, an I followed the crowd a people up the stairs out the door an onta the path. The Black Maria van was pullin up, an people were millin aroun.
‘I’ll be off so,’ Jackser said, wavin at me.
An me ma stopped te look, ‘Goodbye, Martha!’ she said, tryin te smile.
‘Goodbye, Ma!’ I said, tryin te get a good look inta her face, wantin te remember wha she looked like, cos I won’t be seein her again.
A detective pushed me forward, an I tried te look back. But all I could see was the back of me ma wit her head down walkin te catch up wit Jackser. I turned aroun, an we stopped while the detective rushed te help two men tryin te wrestle wit an old woman in a black shawl, screamin an tryin te hold onta a little young fella who was holdin on te her fer dear life. He had his head buried in her stomach an his arms wrapped aroun her. An she was tryin te hide him in her shawl. ‘Please! Please, Sir! Don’t take him away from me. He’s only eight years old. I promise as God is in his Heaven I’ll send him te school. He won’t ever miss school again. I’ll make sure a tha.’
The detective tried to loosen the woman’s grip, an another policeman tried te pull the child, but they wouldn’t let go. ‘Granny! Don’t let them take me,’ he screamed as the third man jumped in an wrenched the child’s arm, sayin, ‘You have to let go!’
The granny lost her grip on the child, an he was hoisted off the ground, kickin an wavin his arms madly, tryin te get a hold of his granny. ‘Jesus! Jesus! No! I’m beggin youse, please give him one more chance. He’s only a babby.’
‘Well! You should have sent him to school,’ an aul fella wit a red face said, holdin her back.
‘Jimmy!’ she screamed, wipin her snots wit the corner of her shawl as she watched him bein hauled in the Black Maria.
‘Come on! Up ye’s get,’ a detective roared, pushin us from behind.
A young fella of about ten or eleven stumbled in front of me, tryin te look back at his mammy screamin, ‘Emmet! Emmet! I’ll get the money, an I’ll come down te see ye!’
‘Ma! I want me ma!’ roared Emmet.
‘Get up! Come on! Keep movin,’ a detective roared at him, pushin him inta the van.
Mammies were standin on the footpath, screamin an wavin. An a young fella of about twelve tried te escape. He was behind me, an he suddenly pushed the detective, knockin him off balance, an jumped screamin, ‘Let me go! Ma! I won’t rob any more.’
The red-faced man caught him an grabbed him by the neck an the leg. His mammy rushed at the red-faced man, screamin, ‘Take yer hands offa my son or I swear te God I’ll be hanged fer ye!’
He pushed her back an grabbed hold a the doors, an looked aroun him, shoutin, ‘Is that the lot?’
‘Yeah!’ shouted the policeman. ‘I’ve done the head count. We have seven! That’s the lot!’