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Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes(195)

By:Martha Long


‘Thanks, Mick.’ An the doors was slammed shut. The engine started up, an the noise of the mammies was quieter now.

‘They’re goin! Oh, Jesus Christ, pray fer them,’ I heard a woman cryin.

Young fellas were cryin in the van, an the little fella sittin across from me was sobbin his heart out. The policeman yawned an stretched himself out an asked the detective, ‘Where are we headin first?’

The other fella looked at him, about te answer, an then suddenly shouted, ‘Shut up! Stop that roarin!’ An glared aroun at everyone. The cryin slowed down, an the childre sat givin big sobs, their heads an chests jerkin up an down wit the sobs comin out, an they were tryin te get a breath an quieten themselves. But it was hard, cos everyone was very afraid. ‘Well, we have three for Dublin, all in different directions, of course. Then there’s a run to Daingean. Drop off two of them there. Then we have a long run ahead of us te Letterfrack.’

‘Jaysus! It will be next week before I see a bed,’ the policeman complained. Then he pulled out a packet a cigarettes an offered the packet te the detective, who helped himself te one, an they lit up an sat back te enjoy their smoke.

I crossed me arms an lowered me head, closin me eyes. An I wondered how I was goin te get through the next four an a half years until I was sixteen.