Ma, Now I'm Goin Up in the World, page 2
I met her on me travels around the hospital. I do wander around, stopping to smile and chat to the patients, especially the old ones, when there’s no one bothered with them at visiting time. It can be very lonely watching other people getting fussed over, and you lying there like a spare part. I know what that’s like meself. Anyway, it’s a grand way to pass the time.
The first time I wandered into the ward, I made straight for her because she was looking at me very intently with a big smile on her face. ‘Hello! How are you?’ I said. ‘Would you like me to sit down for a chat? I’m a hospital visitor.’
That’s what I call meself, I thought.
‘I visit people for a chat,’ I said to her. ‘Me name’s Martha. What’s yours?’
‘Arabella, Lady Arabella. How do you do, Martha? What a wonderful idea! Oh, how lovely, you are so kind! Yes, please, do sit down, dear,’ she beamed up at me, patting the chair beside her bed, wanting me to sit down.
We talked for hours, with me listening to all the great balls, parties, dinners and dances they had in the big house over on the south side of the Liffey. She even got to meet the King and Queen of England – the old one, not the new one – when she was eighteen, for her ‘Coming Out’, she called it.
But the other patients are very good to her. ‘Here, Missus!’ – they call every woman that, even though she’s not married. ‘Have them few aul biscuits.’ ‘Would you like a bit of that cake?’ ‘Take them aul oranges. I have too much stuff.’ ‘Them relations of mine are tryin to start me up in me own sweet shop judgin by the amount of stuff they’re bringin me in.’
Then they clap eyes on me, too. ‘Ah, it’s too much for me. Here, love, come over to me, an I’ll give you a bit of stuff for yourself. I want to clear out some of this stuff! Me locker’s collapsin wit the weight!’
Yeah, they’re very good to me, too. There’s eating and drinking in the place and all the entertainment I could want.
Right, I’m starving. So, what have I got left for eating? Hmm. Two oranges and a couple of custard-cream biscuits. That won’t get me far. And I need to save them for later. By tonight, when it gets really cold, I may be falling off me feet with the hunger!
I could get the lovely smell of chips pouring out of Caffolla’s café up the street. Pity I have no money. I would love to get me jaws into a big plate a chips! So, what now? Think! A big bowl of steaming hot soup would be even better. Bewley’s! I’m desperate. I better get moving. I want to get there before the dinner-hour rush starts or I won’t get a seat.
2
* * *
I could smell the lovely scent of coffee before I even hit the place. I rushed in the door, getting the lovely blast of heat straight away. I stopped to look. Self-service downstairs? No! You need money for that. Waitress service upstairs? Me eyes peeled into the women busy rushing around carrying trays held high in the air. They were piled up with plates of steaming grub. Me belly rumbled and me mouth watered. They were wearing white frilly aprons over black skirts, with matching white-and-black striped caps on their heads. They had pencils stuck behind their ears and notebooks hanging out of their pockets. Waitress service! That’s better.
I rushed in, then stopped, looking for the best spot to sit.
‘Are you looking for a table, dear?’
‘Yes, please, I am,’ I said quietly to the grey-haired woman with the hair coming out of her chin. I could feel meself rattling inside but hoping for the best.
She walked me over to a table and chairs against the wall beside the stairs leading down to the other eating place and the toilets. Good! I will be able to make me escape that way!
She handed me a white piece of paper showing what today’s grub was. ‘I’ll be back for your order in a few minutes, love. OK?’
‘Oh, yeah. Thanks very much, Missus.’ Me eyes landed on the big silver thing sitting in the middle of the table. It was weighed down with cakes. You can help yerself to as many as you like then tell them how many you had. Gawd! Poor aul Mister Bewley! He’s very trusting! Yeah, everyone talks about him. Mister Victor Bewley is a very good man they say. He does an awful lot for charity. He even gave all his workers a share in all the cafés! Whatever that means. I suppose everyone owns a bit of the place they work in. I heard he was a Quaker. I read about them down in the library. They believe in peace. They have nothing to do with rowdy people or get involved in wars. They used to shake at the mention of someone threatening them in the old days. Quake, shake – that’s what it means! I read up all about it.
Hmm! Me eyes whipped back to what’s on offer for the dinner.
‘Are you ready to order?’
Me head shot up, seeing the waitress whipping out her notebook and grabbing the pencil from behind her ear. I took in a deep breath. ‘Yeah, thanks. I’ll have the kidney soup and rolls with plenty a butter. Then I’ll have the, eh, shepherd’s pie. No! Give me the lamb chops and peas and mash potatoes and gravy. Then after that—’
‘Right! That will do to be getting on with!’ she puffed, losing patience with me, snapping the notebook shut. ‘I’ll get you your soup,’ she said, giving me half a smile.
‘Thanks very much,’ I said.
I pushed the plate away feeling I couldn’t eat another cake even if I got paid for it. Me belly felt like a cement bloke.
‘Everything OK?’ the waitress asked, appearing back beside me, whipping out her notebook. ‘Now let’s see,’ she said, tapping the list in her notebook with the pencil. ‘Soup, rolls, butter, lamb chops, peas, mash, two helpings of apple tart and ice cream! Did you have any cakes?’ she asked, letting her eyes light on the empty silver cake holder. Then she whipped them over to the old woman sitting in front of me. She was wearing a big hat with a fancy scarf wrapped around her shoulders. The face on her was so painted and powdered she must have put the stuff on with a shovel. Me and the waitress watched, waiting for her answer. She put down her knife after using it for the last half hour to cut her cake into tiny little bits, then chewing for so long I was blue in the face watching. I wanted to see when and if she would ever swallow it.
She kept us waiting as she wiped an imaginary crumb off her mouth with the linen napkin. Then she lifted her baldy eyebrows. They were marked in with a brown pencil. That was to show where they used to be. Then she stretched her eyeballs and curled down her mouth, flicking her eyes shut, much as to say, No! I would not be so common as to make such a glutton of meself! Then she finally opened her mouth and we held our breath.
‘I have partaken of one, my dear,’ she announced, making my Lady Arabella sound common.
‘Oh, yeah, thanks very much,’ I said. ‘That was lovely altogether. I, eh, had the rest a them.’
‘How many was that?’ the waitress said, looking down at me belly bulging outa me skirt. I had to open the zip!
‘Eh, I think it was five.’
‘Let me see,’ she said, thinking. ‘We generally put out a dozen. I think that cake stand was just put out when you sat down.’
‘Was it?’ I puffed, feeling shocked I had eaten so many.
She peeled off the bill and plastered it down on the table. ‘Glad you enjoyed yourself!’ she said, smiling. ‘Now! Here’s the bill,’ then took off to serve more customers.
The place was filling up fast. People were crowding in, looking hungry and wanting somewhere to sit. Jaysus! How am I going to get outa here? I picked up the bill without looking at it. Me eyes were flying around the room, watching and waiting. I was looking to see if the aul fella, the manager in the suit, was standing outside the door. He watches like a hawk, seeing everything that goes on. His sharp eyes took everything in at once, missing nothing. He was busy rushing in and out, leading people by the arm then pointing them to a vacant seat. Fuck! He’s looking over at me, seeing the two free chairs next to me. I kept me eyes down, pretending to be busy examining the batch of new cakes that just appeared on the table.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ the waitress asked, wanting me to get going.
‘Oh, I’m grand, thanks,’ I muttered, me insides rattled with the nerves.
Two women made for my table. I watched the waitress head over to take an order in the far corner, then me eyes flew to the aul fella in the suit. He was watching me and the two people heading over to the free chairs beside me. Then his head was out the door again, making to ask the next batch of people to wait for a seat.
Suddenly I was up standing on me feet and lifting me suitcase from under the table and making me way over for the back stairs. I walked down without rushing, then past the toilets and the self-service and up the other stairs. I stopped before I got to the top, then lifted me head to see where the aul fella in the suit was. The cash desk was just to me left. I would have to pass that. But the aul fella was over to me right, standing just outside the dining room. He was keeping the people on the queue moving in as soon as someone left and, more importantly, making sure they went to the cash desk to pay the bill.
I held me breath, moving back down the stairs again. He only has to catch one sight of me and I’m done for! I wouldn’t be able to turn back. I would have to go to the cash desk and then the game would be up! Jaysus! Pity I ate so much! When they see the bill . . . Wonder how much it is? Oh, bloody hell! Me nerves are gone! I moved up again, seeing him disappear into the dining room.
Right! Now’s the time to move. I was up the stairs, turning the corner, then walking past the cash desk with the woman looking out at me through her glass box. I kept me eyes peeled ahead like I hadn’t a care in the world, and walked on, looking into the distance, feeling me back prickle. I was waiting for the shout and the tap on the shoulder. I was out the door, turning left down Grafton Street, walking quickly now, trying to get lost in the dinner-hour rush. I turned left on to Wicklow Street and sat meself down on the side entrance to Switzer’s, managing at last to be able to let me breath out, knowing I was free and clear, for the moment.
Jaysus! Enough of that! I may be starving be times, maybe even most of the time, but that is pure stupidity! I got carried away and nearly ate them outa the place. My intention by going there was only to get meself a hot bowl of soup. That way, if I was caught, they might have let me go. But, oh no! I had to go and lose the run of meself. Jaysus! It goes to show, Martha, if you give yourself an inch, you take a mile. Hunger is one thing but that is bleedin sheer madness! Imagine the bill if I ended up in court! Two pounds ten shillings, your honour! That is what the bill came to for the amount of food she ate! Well, it must have been near it anyway. That place is very dear. No, let that be the end of it. One more time doing that, I would be right back where I started. No, better to starve than that. Robbing is only for mugs. I’m at rock bottom now, just living on me wits, with no money, no job, no place to live and not one soul in the world to turn to. So, there’s only one place I can go now and that’s up!
‘Would you move, please!’
I stood up, grabbing me suitcase outa the way, looking at the woman standing well back, waiting for me to give her plenty a room.
‘Sorry, Missus,’ I muttered, giving her a bit of a smile. She ignored me, just lifted her face and turned away, then started sniffing air up through the two narrow slits punched into the middle of her hatchet face. Then she rushed past, pulling her big fur coat well away from me, giving me a smack in the face with the big black leather handbag swinging on her arm. I rubbed me cheek, waiting for her to say sorry. But she was gone! Straight through the door leaving it swinging open. Then she stopped dead in the middle of the shop, making the big fur hat on her mallet head fly in all directions because she was so worked up about buying herself something she didn’t know where to start first.
I could still feel the stinging in me cheek. Suddenly I put me head in the door, letting out a roar. ‘Dyin lookin, aul cow! I hope you die roarin! Yeah!’ I muttered. ‘An I hope the pickpockets get their hands on all yer money!’ I sniffed, rubbing me cheek. Bleedin hell! The cheek a her treating me like dirt. You wait, Missus! One day I will have the likes of you rushing and gushing all over me, wanting to know me. I will be somebody then. Because I am going to make it right to the bleedin top! I’ll be the best at whatever I do. I don’t care how long it takes me. But one day I am going to walk through this door here wearing a fur coat and a matching fur hat, then have them carry all me boxes over to Brown Thomas for another spot a shopping. Then they can deliver all me parcels to me mansion in its own grounds! It may take me years and years, I may starve, but I will get there. ‘Yeah! So fuck off!’ I muttered, nearly crying with the rage as I stood just inside the door, watching them all rushing around, trying to outdo each other spending money. One thinking they are better than the next.
Then I spotted the store detective flying her head in my direction. She stood watching, with her little beady eyes taking me in from head to toe. I moved back. Fuck! Them aul fuckers are still on the mooch. I remember that one. But she never got her hands on me! I was always too wide awake for her. But they’re great gas to watch. Sneaking around the shop holding tight to their handbags, pretending to be shoppers. Then when they get the sniff of a robber, the chase is on, with you flying ahead, then stopping to see where they are before dropping something into your shopping bag then pretending to be intent on looking at something. They do the same thing. The pair of us giving sneaky looks to see what the other one is doing. I used to double back on them then come up behind them when they were peeping around the corner, intent on trying to spot where you’d gone without them being seen themself.
Yeah! These days that’s great gas. I can have many happy hours giving them the run around, knowing I don’t have to rob any more. Bleedin gobshites. They’re not that good at the job. I can spot a robber a mile away just by seeing the shifty look on their face. You can smell the fear! Only last week up in Dunnes Stores, I came face to face with an aul one after wrapping half the shop around her body. She got an awful fright when our eyes locked on each other. There she was, hiding herself under all the coats in the back corner of the shop. I felt sorry for her. She probably had ten kids waiting at home, starving with the hunger. The husband was probably drinking all the money and wouldn’t work in a good fit! I could tell by looking at her she was desperate.
‘The store detective is on my tail,’ I muttered.
The poor woman’s eyes nearly leapt outa her head, whipping it around so fast, trying to spot them. I gave a big wink to the detective, grinning like mad, then headed meself over in her direction. The detective got such a fright I was on to her, she turned her back, pretending to be examining the ladies’ jumpers. The poor aul woman spotted her too and took off in an awful hurry, shuffling like mad, desperate to make it out the door but getting herself slowed up with the amount of stuff weighing her down. Meanwhile the detective was raging! Now she knew she wouldn’t get the glory of catching me robbing because I was on to her. While the real robbers had been cleaning the place out! Yeah, culchie eejits! They’re not wide enough for us Dubliners.
Right! I looked around, shaking meself, then let out a big breath, thinking it’s getting late. It’s definitely time I got moving. Now, where will I go to get meself changed into me good clothes? I better wash me face and clean meself up. But I’m not too bad. I had that grand bath yesterday over in the hospital. OK! I’ll head down to the quays. There’s a nice hotel there just opposite the bus I need to take. Bus? I haven’t got the fare! Never mind. They can’t throw you off if you give them your name and address. Any address. I’ll make up one. Now, what will I tell this aul one looking for the mother’s help? Ah, play it by ear, let her do the talking. Lucky for me I spotted it in that newspaper dumped on the ground. I even managed to get tuppence for the phone call outa that culchie in the GPO. ‘Ah, here, keep the thruppence,’ he said after getting fed up waiting for me rooting in me coat pocket looking for the thruppenny bit I didn’t have.
‘Are you sure, Mister?’ I said, pushing me luck! Sometimes I can be a right gobshite!
3
* * *
I walked up the short path of the house in a nice quiet cul de sac and rang the doorbell, planting me suitcase down beside me. Jaysus! I forgot about that! One look at that case and she’ll think I really am very forward, expecting to get the job before she even decides to take me. Think!
If we don’t suit each other, I’m taking the boat to England tonight. I have a job lined up there with me big sister, working in a pub. No, too young! Jam factory. So I have me suitcase all ready. Right! That is what I will tell her. Yeah, that will do.
I stood looking around at the nice trees along the footpath, taking in all the high hedges along the low walls of the houses. One house had a black Ford Anglia parked outside. Jaysus! That’s a very old-fashioned car. A couple of houses down they had a little Mini parked outside. There’s not too many cars around here. They must not be very well off. I turned around to press the bell again and the door flew open. I stared into the lovely made-up face of a woman with a huge belly. She’s expecting!
‘Are you Missus O’Brien?’
‘Yes. Are you the girl come about the job?’ she smiled.
‘Yeah! Yes, I am.’
‘You’re the girl that phoned yesterday.’
‘Yes! Martha is my name.’
‘Right, come in. I had quite a few phone calls. I’m getting a bit muddled now about who is who,’ she laughed, as I followed her into the hall and turned into a small sitting room. It was a bit dark and depressing looking, like nobody really came in here, and it had a musty smell, like the room never had a window opened.
‘Now,’ she said, sitting down, folding her hands in her lap, then trying to pull down the hem of her very short maternity frock. ‘I need someone to help me around the house. You would have to do all the cleaning, washing up and anything else that needs doing. I have six children, all boys. The eldest is nine. Sam. And the youngest is a toddler. You will have bed and board, and I will pay you three pounds ten shillings a week, every Friday. Do you have any experience working with children?’
