Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes by Martha Long Page B

goes off fer the day, an I stay in te mind the babby. I can’t bring him out, cos he has no go-car. It’s broken an gone. An I can’t get him down the stone stairs, cos we’re far too far up in the top floor, an he’s not walkin yet. So even if I managed te carry him down, wha would I do wit him? So we lie on the bed. He cries an cries, cos he’s hungry an there’s no bottle te give him an not even a bit a bread we could eat. There’s nothin! Not even in the bins – I looked.
    It’s night time now, an she’s still not back. As long as I keep me fingers in his mouth, he’ll suck it an be quiet. We have a bit a comfort, lyin wit our heads together, lookin inta each other’s faces an watchin him suck me finger. He’ll only cry now if I take me finger back.
    The sun was shinin outside, an I could hear all the childre playin on the street. Me ma was all excited. She was goin out. She had herself all done up. She said she had te meet a man. She asked me te go te bed early wit the babby, but I said no! It was the middle of the day, an I wanted te go out an play. So she went across the road te the shop an bought me a little ball fer sixpence. Now I could play handball against the wall when I got out te play. This was me own, an now I could get childre te play wit me. I could play this game, but ye need two balls fer this. Maybe we’d share. I could get a young one who has a ball. It goes like this – ye throw the balls against the wall, an ye say, ‘My muther an yer muther were hangin out the clothes, my muther gev yer muther a bang on the nose, wha colour was the blood, R.E.D.’, an if ye drop the ball ye’re out.
    There was a dog shiverin in a box outside one of the blocks. We went down te gerra look. There was an old woman sittin on a chair outside, an she was mindin the dog. It had no hair, an its skin was all red an bleedin. ‘Wha’s wrong wit it, Missus?’ we asked.
    â€˜It has the mange! Now gerra way an don’t be touchin it. Ye’s’ll catch it! I’m waitin fer the animal-cruelty man te come.’
    Suddenly there was a roar from the end of the street, an a load a cattle came stampedin down. ‘Hold er! Ho there! Easy now!’ An we could see young fellas wit sticks runnin in an outa the cattle, scatterin them everywhere. The drover was screamin up behind them wit his arms held wide an a big stick in his hand, wellington boots covered in green shit, an an aul coat tied wit string. His hat blew offa his head, an he didn’t stop te pick it up. More young fellas came roarin outa the flats te give the drover a hand. ‘Feck ye’s all, ye’s little feckers. Ye’s are losin me, me animals.’
    â€˜I’m not, Mister! I’m helpin ye!’ one young fella said. ‘Lookit, them young fellas are robbin a cow. They whooshed it up the alley, an they’ll sell it te Mickey the Butchers.’
    â€˜Where are they? Bring it back fer me, son, an I’ll see ye right!’
    â€˜OK, Mister! Wha’s it worth? Half a crown?’
    â€˜No!’
    â€˜Ten bob, Mister.’
    â€˜Five bob an get a fuckin move on.’
    An he was off te tell his pals they were in the money. An then the aul one grabbed up her chair an screamed, ‘Mind the dog!’ An she ran inta the hall, sayin, ‘We’ll be all kilt! Is a body te get no rest?’
    We grabbed the box an tumbled the dog inta the hall, outa the way of a mad cow tha was rushin towards us. We could see the white of its eyes an the steam pourin up from it an the shit caked on its back – it was huge! The dogs came from everywhere, an they went bananas, bitin the legs of the cows. An the mad cow changed direction at the last minute an decided he wasn’t comin inta the hall. He skidded an slipped, an the drover whacked him on the arse an whacked out at the dogs an looked at us te see if we should be whacked as well.
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