Read Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes Online

Authors: Martha Long

Tags: #ma, he sold me for a few cigarettes, #Dublin, #seven stories press, #1950s, #poverty, #homelessness, #abuse, #rape, #labor, #ireland, #martha long, #memoir, #autobiography, #biography, #series, #history, #poor, #slums

Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes (45 page)

‘Come on,' Jackser roared. ‘Let her get on the boat,' an he pushed me up the gangplank. I handed me ticket te the man, an he handed it back, an I put it in me pocket. I looked back, but they were walkin off, makin their way up the quays. An they didn't stop te look back at me. Other people were on the quays, wavin off their relatives an friends. But there was no one te wish me good luck. I went over te the railins te look out. But I couldn't see anythin, cos it was too high up fer me te look over. An I stood wit me back te it, watchin all the other people.

There was a crowd a fellas an girls tryin te get te know each other. ‘Keep away now from tha Soho place! A lovely lassie like you will be eaten alive by them foreigners!' a culchie roared at a Dublin one. An he shook himself, roarin laughin te his friends, thinkin he was very smart.

‘Here! It's you that's just arrived up on the hay lorry. I wasn't born yesterday ye know!'

‘By Gawd! Lookin at them knockers, I'd agree wit ye there!' An he stuck his head between his legs an slapped himself, roarin laughin.

‘Ye'll get a belt in the gob if ye give me any more of yer insults!' An she picked up her handbag an her cardboard suitcase, an shouted, ‘Come on, Winnie!'

‘Right! Let's go,' Winnie said. An she staggered off on her big black high heels tha would stab ye they were so pointy.

The fellas jumped after them. ‘Ah, no! No! No! Don't go, tha eejit was only kiddin. Don't take no notice a him. Sure tha fella don't know his arse from his elbow. Here! Have a cigarette,' an they all pulled out their boxes of cigarettes, pullin the girls back, who didn't want te be pulled back but hoped they would be at the same time.

‘We're decent people, ye know!' the girl shouted te them.

‘Oh, God, that ye's are! An lovely girls at tha. Now let's all be friends, an we'll buy ye a drink, an we'll all be merry. Cos, God knows, life is short, an it's a very hard one at that. Now! Wha do ye's say?'

Yer woman took time te make her mind up. An Winnie said, ‘Well, all right, then. But don't think we're easy! An we're not tha easily bought!'

The culchie slapped her on the back an laughed. An winked behind her back te his pals an shook his head te tell them te follow him. An they went down the stairs te get their drinks.

Tha left me lookin at the old man wit the red face from bein out workin in all weathers. He was lookin over the railins, leanin on his arms. An he had a faraway look in his eyes. He was wearin his best suit, but it didn't fit him. The trousers was hangin down in rolls, coverin his brown shoes. An the collar of his shirt was covered in dirt. He looked down at his cardboard suitcase tied up wit the belt of his trousers te make sure it was still there. An then he pulled out ten Sweet Afton cigarettes from his jacket pocket an counted the rest left in the packet an lit one up. An put the box in his pocket. Then he picked up his suitcase an looked aroun him. I knew he was a country man, cos he had a shifty nervous look in his eyes, an they walk wit their heads goin first an their shoulders down an their arses stuck out. An I could tell he wouldn't mix wit too many people. I don't think he has a wife an childre, an I felt sorry fer him, cos he looked very lonely. An I think he was poor. I felt very lonely an lost meself. An I wished I was like them big young ones an the fellas gone down te the bar. Only I would never take drink! Tha destroys people!

It was gettin cold out here, but I was afraid te wander off. If I sit downstairs, people will see I'm on me own an maybe ask questions. An I wouldn't know wha te say. I only have me ticket. It's one way te London, an when I get there, I don't know how te get te Hemel Hempstead. An even if I do get there, how will I find him? I can't understand why me ma didn't give me his address. I just don't know what I'm supposed te do. Maybe if I make me way there somehow, I can ask people do they know him. They didn't even leave me any money te buy meself somethin te eat. Or I might need the train fare or bus or somethin te get from London. I can't think any more. Me head is too dizzy. An I have a big lump on the top of it the size of a door knob. Ye can see it, never mind feel it. An me back an hip feels like there's hot knives goin through it. But when I stay still, it just throbs a bit. An anyway, I'm bent over from the pain, an people would be lookin at me. An I'd only draw attention te meself. So I wandered over te the stairs an found a quiet corner in a passage an settled meself there wit me legs stretched out.

I woke up suddenly an tried te lift me head. It felt like a cement block. I could see two fellas lurchin from side te side, hangin onta their bottles a porter. The ship was rockin like mad, an they couldn't get very far. ‘Give us a hand, Mick!' But Mick went down, still hangin onta his bottle a porter, landin on the side of his face an rollin onta his back, upendin the porter all over himself. An then he started te vomit his guts up, turnin his head sideways.

‘Ah, Paidin, I'm dyin!'

‘Ah, fuck ye!' Paidin roared. ‘Will ye get up outa tha!' An he spun aroun, seein nothin an spillin his porter everywhere. An then like a fountain, he spewed vomit everywhere an collapsed beside Mick, landin on his face, an went out cold. The smell was terrible, an I wanted te move. But I was like a dead weight wit the pain in me head, an me back was on fire. So I just closed me eyes an waited fer the sick feelin in me stomach te pass.

When I woke, it was mornin. An the ship gave a bang as it landed at the dock. I could hear the ship's horn blastin away te let everyone know we'd arrived in Liverpool. People started movin along the passage an up the stairs, carryin their suitcases. I pushed me hands on the floor an got meself standin up. I felt like every bone in me body was broken. I was so sore an me mouth felt like sawdust.

I climbed the stairs, followin the people, an then down the gangplank an inta the train station. The place was crowded, an everyone was hurryin te get on the trains. Men in striped uniforms wit fancy hats on their heads were busy loadin the big sacks a mail offa the ship an onta trolleys. A man's voice was comin outa a big horn stuck up on the wall, tellin everyone wha train te catch. But I couldn't understand wha he was sayin.

I stopped an looked aroun me, an got caught up in the crowds pushin forward. Men wit their heads down, suitcases in each arm, slammed inta me, knowin where they had te go an lettin nothin stand in their way. I was sent flyin an landed on the sacks of mail sittin on the trolley. ‘Ye culchie bastard!' I screamed in pain, hurtin me head an back. A pair of hands lifted me up an put me standin on me feet.

‘Are you all right, little hen?' I looked up inta a pair of blue eyes lookin down at me from under a striped hat.

‘Yeah! Thanks, Mister,' I croaked, still feelin shaky. ‘Is tha the train fer London?' I asked, pointin at a train in front of me. He said nothin but looked hard at me face.

‘By gum! You've been through the wars! Where'd ye get that shiner?' An he put his hand on me face just under me eye. It was sore. I said nothin, an he stood up an looked aroun me. ‘Wait here! I'll not be long,' an he was gone.

I waited an thought te meself, I must have a black eye. Now I really am a holy show. What am I goin te do? Everyone will be lookin at me. He came rushin back wit a policeman wearin a big tall hat an a strap under his chin. Me heart lurched. Ah, Gawd, I'm done fer! I looked at the train an made a shufflin run fer it. But the policeman made two big steps an had me by the arm. ‘Easy now! Thanks, son! I'll take care of her.'

An he hesimitated an looked at me. ‘Don't worry, me little flower, you'll be all right!' I looked up inta his face, an his eyes were very kind. An I knew he was a lovely soft kind man who liked childre. An then he turned an rushed off te collect his sacks a mail. An I wanted te stay wit him, but I was only a stranger, an now he was gone.

‘Come on! Come with me!' I walked beside the policeman, wonderin what I could do te escape. ‘What's your name?' he asked, lookin down an smilin at me. I said nothin fer a minute, wonderin if I should give him me real name. Wha's the point, they find out anyway. I got caught often enough in Dublin fer robbin the butter.

‘Martha,' I said, feelin me heart in me belly an wonderin wha was goin te happen te me. Jackser definitely won't take me back. He only bought me a one-way ticket, an if they send me back there, I'm dead.

‘How old are you, Martha?'

I hesimitated, wonderin if I could say I was fourteen. I looked up at him. ‘Eh, fourteen!'

His mouth fell open, an he threw his head back an roared laughin. ‘You're a canny one, no doubt! But I would say you're about seven or eight years old.'

‘I'm ten!' I screamed.

He laughed again, ‘Probably, but you're very small for your age.'

I felt like cryin. This was goin from bad te worse. I'll never grow up an be free. I looked at the people rushin aroun me. All goin about their business. No one te bother them. We walked inta the police station, it was beside the trains. An there were men in blue shirts sittin at typewriters clickin away an writin at a big table. They all looked up when my policeman shouted an laughed, ‘Look what I found!' They said nothin but just stared at me. Then one got up from writin at the table an whispered somethin te me policeman. I stood waitin. Then he turned te me an put me sittin on a chair beside the table an sat down beside me. ‘Right! Where were you going to?'

‘Me ma sent me te London te stay wit her brother in Hemel Hempstead.'

‘What's the address?'

‘I don't know, she didn't give it te me.'

He stared at me. ‘Where is your suitcase?'

‘She didn't give me one.'

‘So no address, no clothes. Have you any money?'

‘No!'

‘And so you have no money! You've run away from home, haven't you?'

‘No! Me ma sent me.'

‘What's your home address in Ireland?'

I said nothin.

‘Look, we know you've run away from home. And you will be reported missing. So you might as well tell us the truth now and get it over with.'

I knew tha wasn't true, so I stayed quiet.

‘Who gave you the beating? Was it your father? Is that why you ran away?'

‘No! I didn't run away. I'm tellin the truth.'

‘Well, then, give me your address in Ireland, because we have to contact your parents. Then if they tell us you didn't run away, we can find out where your uncle lives in Hemel Hempstead.'

I gave them me address in Dublin, an the policeman went off, leavin me sittin there. I was tired waitin an put me head in me arms an went te sleep on the table. I woke up when the man nudged me an gave me a glass of milk an two sambidges wit egg an tomatoes. I ate them in a flash, not realisin I was starved wit the hunger.

‘It's been four hours now,' he said, sittin down beside me. ‘Are you sure you gave us the right address?'

‘Yes! I gave ye the right address!'

He shook his head. ‘That's strange, we should have contacted them by now. And there was no report of you being missing at the police station.'

I looked at him but said nothin.

‘Perhaps they have gone out to Mass?'

I said nothin.

Hours passed, an every now an then the man came in lookin more an more confused. ‘Still no word! We have been in constant contact with the Dublin police, but they say they can't get a response to their knocking at the door. They know the family, and they are familiar with you. It appears you like butter, lots of it!' An he shook his head, starin at me an thinkin, but said nothin.

I kept quiet, knowin full well they were in but wouldn't open the door. They do this all the time when I get caught an I'm brought te the police station fer robbin the butter. Eventually Jackser might appear at one o'clock in the mornin te claim me, lookin like he wanted te murder me fer gettin caught, an sit there sayin nothin while I make a statement an sign me name te it. An then I'll have te appear in the Children's Court. An I always tell the same story. Tha I robbed the butter te sell fer money te buy meself sweets. They don't believe me, but they can't prove it was Jackser an me ma who sent me. Cos I never admit tha. I always stick te me story or else me ma would be sent te prison along wit Jackser. He swore he would bring her down wit him, an me ma an the rest of the childre would be locked up in a home. So I can't tell on him. I can't tell anyone wha he does te me. An this policeman is worried an confused why me ma an Jackser hasn't claimed me. But he's respectable an kind. An I would die of shame if he knew the truth of wha me ma an Jackser were really like. He just wouldn't understand.

The English police are more like you'd expect your daddy te be. They laugh an joke an don't pretend te be as important wit themselves as the Irish police. But the Irish police are not bad te me. They just leave me sittin at the table in the office an then forget about me. I could be sittin there fer ten or twelve hours, an they wouldn't say a word te me until Jackser finally decides te arrive. They don't really care. But here I'm really bein minded, an I'm beginnin te enjoy meself. So far I've got a lovely red rosy apple an a bar of chocolate.

‘Here, take this and go out and buy yourself a comic.' I looked at the shiny half-crown an couldn't believe it! ‘Buy whatever you want! Spend it all. And then come straight back.' I looked up happily at the policeman, an then he smiled. ‘Go on, off with you!'

I staggered out the door. Me back felt like a red-hot poker, an me legs was stiff, but I felt warm in me belly, cos the policeman trusted me, an he didn't think I was a criminal any more. Now it was like I was on me holidays. An no Jackser or butter te worry about.

30

The day dragged on, an now I was tired. I couldn't lie down an have a sleep. Me head was throbbin an felt very hot. An I could do nothin but sit an wait an look up at the big clock on the wall tha went tick tock, hopin tha when it hit the right time, somethin might happen, whatever tha was.

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