There must be something wrong with you. You’re not right in the head. Just as well I left your poor mother behind. Well it’s little wonder why your husband left. If I had to live with this kind of Godlessness going on under my roof. You don’t realise we’re talking about their immortal souls and that doesn’t get a second chance. Can you live with their damnation on your conscience? It doesn’t matter what they want or not. It’s for their own good. And as for you. As Christ said Better a millstone be tied around their necks. No. No it was mistake to come here. I feel the evil in this house. I’m not staying here. I cannot stay. No don’t you speak to me. I don’t want to hear the words of the evil one from my own daughter’s mouth. You don’t know what this has done to me. My own daughter. The shock. No, stay you away. Well I’m sorry they’ll be upset but get out of my way. I don’t want to hear any more of this. You’ll only poison me with your bitterness you Godless creature. I pity you. I really do. Don’t come near me. God forgive me I never knew. I never knew I’d reared a… No. Enough. That’s it. Goodbye.
Such a quiet house after. Car blistering road beneath. She covered face up and whooping in her throat. Forcing air in. Shaking with tears. Tight as bows we sat. Faces hanging over the stairs. Our evil house Ringing. There are banshees here.
Right then. Right the pair of ye. Do you see what you’ve done? Are you pleased with yourselves? What did I say about forward rolls? What did I tell you about keeping your knickers covered? She is jumping up the stairs. Take one and two. Crack my eyes are bursting from my head with the wallop. Blood rising up my nose. Drips my head forward. Drip of that. She gets my hair. Listen. To me. Listen. What you’ve done. Shaking me smack and smack my head. Dirty brat. Shivering. Sharp with rage. Get away from me and push me over to the banisters.
You. Panic. Mammy sorry that I sorry I didn’t know. Your hands can’t keep her off. She knows all the duck and weave we’ve done before. And hits you on your ear. On your cheek. That hard. Ah Mammy sorry. Sorry. Sorry please, all you say. She have you by the jumper. Slap you harder. Slap and slap and slap. Push you in the corner. Mammy. Mammy. Getting red face. Getting sore face. Slap again she. Slap again. Screaming. You imbecile. You stupid. I cupping all my blood nose in my jumper. Crouch. You. Bold. Boy. You. Stupid. Stupid. You’ll never manage anything. You’re a moron. He’s right. You’re a moron. Hail Mary. How hard can it be? Hail Mary. I’ve had enough of you. The pair of you. And you. You’ll have to go to handicapped school. No Mammy Mammy. Slap you. School for morons is where you belong and you can live there and you can do what you like and I’ll never have to put up with you again. I’ve had enough of you. Both of you. Selfish spoilt brats. Do you hear me? Enough. Morning noon and night and this is what you do to me? Handicapped school do you hear me? Slap slap. Your nose weeping while she pulled you by the hair and then a hard one. A really hard one. Hard down straight upon your brown head. I hear it. Mammy my head. Mammy my my don’t Mammy hit me anymore on my head. Holding it, your head, all bent down. Feel it throb you. The shock like sacrilege. Mammy not my head anymore, putting out your palm instead. She didn’t then all at once. Pushed you back on the floor. Went into her room. Went into the dark closed curtains of it and shut the door on us.
We standing and hunkered there on the landing. Me intrigued by my bleeding. Pump skull and brain around is what it felt. You turned your face to the corner. Glowing red and white with welts. Stood there until you managed to pull down all your sobs. I heard you grasp your breathing. Still it.
Took me hot hand to the bathroom then and water on my face. Gentle wiping, saying there now it’s alright. Cleaned blood from me like I saw at school. Head back gulping the thicky flow. Now, you say, we’ll be good. Now we’ll do what we are told. Maybe she’ll forgive us if we’ll be good. Alright? We’ll be good now. I said stupid shit fuck piss cow bitch frigger shiter fucker bitch pig. Stop it, don’t say that you said. You have to be good. I said, she can’t hear you now.
Tomato soup we made. You opened and only tipped a little on the sideboard block. I wiped it in the darkness. We were keeping still as still. Didn’t even turn the light on while you lit the gas. Poured such red soup into that pot. Set it whisper down on the stove. And stirred it with the wooden spoon so we would not scrape. Poured in a white bowl. With a slice of bread. Some kitchen roll folded on the tray. A proper soup spoon by the side plate. I carried it although you were bigger. Not to drop it. I was careful and your hand might slip. Put it down there. On the floor there. Just beside her door. Then you knocked it. Very gentle. Saying Mammy in a whisper here’s your dinner that we made. We had a talk and we’ll be good from now on and do everything you say. All the time. Please don’t send me to handicap school.
Then a wait. We heard her walk across the bedroom floor. Quiet. Foot by foot. And she opened up the door looking all tired out and white. Bent down and lifted it. Saying thank you children. We’ll see in the morning. Go on to bed now. Goodnight.
5
Get up from that bed. Come on we’re late. Ah Mammy. It’ll do you no harm Madam to show the Lord you care. But I feel sick at mass. None of that please. There’s no fresh air in there. Get you your shoes on we haven’t got time for this.
Grannies rap their hearts. I know that from hot mass when they say Jesus’ name. My feet hurt, knees hurt on the kneeler where someone’s foot left shoe dirt there — sorry will you let me through. All the people up and down saying Christ has died Christ has risen Christ will come again. Mammy I can’t see the altar. Lift me up til my legs go dead.
It’s a dangerous place for smacking mass. Any trying to run up the aisle. Get back here. Climbing through the seats ahead. Sorry. Sit down. Sucking tissues or getting under the pew. That’s a good thump in the back. Stand up here and it goes right through your lungs. I like that, to make men from sucked toilet paper. I have plenty and I never clean my nose. Stop that dirty thing. You get it for GI Joe man banging on the floor. But he’s jumping. Ssssh. But Mammy he’s. Ssssh. Jumping off Niagara Falls. Stop. That. Now. Ow. Be quiet I said.
And when we go out all the old ones saying would you look at that, and aren’t they great at their age you can get them to behave at all. At that age mine were up to all sorts. Sure they had my heart broke. She smiles says they’re a handful, but you wouldn’t be without them would you? No. Thanks be to God.
Do you like coming to God’s house? In the car home. Careful. And for this the answer’s yes. Would you not rather be watching the telly? No Mammy I wouldn’t. No.
She offers demure love now and saintly head. Sign of the cross. Kissing beads. And bible stories every day and night. All the eating locusts I liked. Hair shirt sticking in the skin. Devils in the wilderness and stones for bread. A good suffering Jesus. Lank and ribs, tats hanging in his hair. Sore and sticking on the cross even more.
On my own, draw marker on his picture flesh. Quiet or it would be a slapping. Don’t you dare be defacing Our Lord. But I. Blood from this eye. In my own time on the sly she never catch me. Lying on my belly singing When creation was begun god had chosen you to be mother of his blessed son holy Mary full of grace. Stick it in him. I like it hurts so much. His mother is crying to see him. Lovely blood on thorns and scourging is the best thing though this picture doesn’t show his back. Holes of wounds for stabbing in lances or nails. That one is infected. It would be worser than this if they stuck a knife in I’d say. But I didn’t have red felt tip. That got squashed in Tiny Tears’ eye. You did it. Still, good to see him going bloody to death, though pink. Busy I was with a million gushing cuts to draw, make them worser, giving scabs. Where’s the pain in that one? But I’d like to hear him crying, screaming most of all. How bad was it Jesus? Mr Jesus Christ. I thought Christ was his second name. She all the time pointing him out in pictures saying Jesus Christ. Mr Christ. Mrs Christ like Claus. You gone all strange, saw me, said I see what you’re doing. That makes Jesus cry. What? Drawing blood down between his legs. I amn’t. You are. So? It’s dirty. Don’t tell though, sure you won’t tell? I won’t do it again. Alright but you have to say your prayers and remember to tell it when you make your confession or. What? You’ll be going down to the hot place.