My heart started to beat a bit faster, like it did when I could tell Mammy was cross and was going to hit me. I knew Daddy wasn’t going to hit me though, because I was in the big bed and the belt was on the floor now. No, Daddy wasn’t going to hit me. He was going to snuggle up behind me.
Daddy was naked except for his shirt. I could feel the rough cotton and the cold buttons on my back. It felt strange to feel him so close. I could feel the bare skin of his legs pressing against the backs of my own little legs. His skin felt hairy and sweaty, and I didn’t like it. It made the scabs on my legs twitch and itch, but I was afraid to scratch them in case Daddy knew I was awake. I could smell Daddy’s breath now. It smelled like old beer and the stale ash I had to clear from Mammy’s ashtray. It wasn’t nice. It made me wrinkle my nose, even though I was trying very hard indeed to look like I was fast asleep. I wished he would move back a bit so I didn’t have to breathe in his smell.
I couldn’t seem to escape it though. Daddy’s smell and the sweat on his skin felt as if it was clinging to me, from the back of my heels to the top of my scalp. He had packed himself in so closely behind me I felt trapped. I couldn’t complain though, could I? Mammy would call me an ‘ungrateful little bitch’. She always called me that if I dared to grumble about anything, like the watery, gristle-filled stew she cooked, or the ‘new’ clothes she gave me with sleeves down to my fingertips and holes under the arms.
I hoped Daddy would fall asleep soon. I’d heard him fall asleep so many times after I’d waited for him to get in from the pub or I’d listened to him fight with Mammy. I normally found it hard to get to sleep myself until I’d heard his chesty, spluttering breathing slow down and settle into a steady rhythm. That’s what usually happened. He coughed his guts up most nights, choking on the last drag of his cigarette while he used the toilet bucket. Then he would fill his lungs with a tight gasp before falling into a wheezy, purring sleep.
That hadn’t happened tonight. After his belt hit the floor I heard him cough and spit something into the toilet bucket, emptying his rattling throat. But his breathing got heavier and faster when he got into bed. Now he was sort of puffing and panting, and it felt like he was pushing himself closer and closer into my back, closer than he ever had before. I could feel his hot, smelly breath sticking to the back of my neck, gusting through my hair and making my scalp prickle.
What could I do? Now the pushing had become harder, and Daddy was sort of rubbing himself into my back, worse than he had before when we were in the same bed. What was he doing? It felt like he was touching me with a part of his body I didn’t recognize. It felt so strange. I didn’t like it. It made me feel wary of Daddy, but I didn’t dare speak or move.
Finally, Daddy stopped and pulled away from me. I lay there like a little motionless doll, not wanting to give any sign I was awake in case he drew closer to me again. I didn’t even want to breathe in case I caught his attention, so I took shallow, silent little sips of air as I listened to Daddy turn over, shuffle himself away from me and, at last, take the loud, wheezing purrs of sleep I longed to hear.
The next morning, Mammy was in the bed fast asleep, and Daddy was gone. I was relieved to see Mammy there instead of Daddy, although normally I was much more scared of her than him. She was in a deep sleep, with her hair sprawled out like a mass of wild flowers on the pillow. She looked peaceful and pretty, not scary at all.
Sleeping in Mammy and Daddy’s bed wasn’t how I expected. I wondered how long it would last, and told myself not to worry about what Daddy did. It must just be what daddies do.
At school, Mother Dorothy announced that we were going on a trip to Howth in North Dublin. I’d never been on a school trip and was delighted. Mother Dorothy told us the ancient St Mary’s Church was in Howth. It was centuries old and dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. ‘So we’ll be having no bold behaviour,’ she threatened. ‘You are very lucky children to be taken on such a trip. Now go home and ask your mammies and daddies to pay their contribution. We shall be going by bus, and you are to bring your own lunch.’
I left school that day feeling nervous but excited. I’d been a good girl and had not complained about anything Daddy did. I’d scrubbed the dishes before school, and I’d bought Mammy some bread and cigarettes at lunchtime. I’d helped clean up the little ones, Mary and Martin, and given them their milk too.
Now it was 4 p.m., and I was wondering how best to mention the money for the trip. I thought it was best to do my other jobs first, then ask Mammy nicely.
‘Cynthia, you’re to go to the off licence in the next village for me,’ Mammy bellowed from the top of the stairs as soon as I walked into the house.
‘I need some cider! I’ve heard it’s cheaper than at the off licence in Dalkey! Here, Cynthia, take the money and go and get it for your mammy. Don’t go buying any sweets now! I want every scrap of change, or you won’t know what’s hit you!’
I did as I was told, because arguing with Mammy simply wasn’t an option. I knew I had to do as she said, or all hell would break out. I decided I would get the cider as quickly as possible, and when Mammy was happily drinking it I would tell her I needed money for the school trip. I didn’t realize it until later, but the off licence was about three miles away - and all to save a few shillings!
The weather started to turn bad almost as soon as I set out. I was wearing my now old and battered Holy Communion shoes, but the leather had worn so thin that rainwater was leaking in, making my toes wrinkle up like little wet raisins. I ran at first, thinking I’d get the job done quicker, but soon the rain felt like it was hammering straight into my skin, making me heavy and soggy and driving me back. My fingers turned ice-blue as I clutched the coins tight, and I had to keep swapping hands so I didn’t go completely numb and drop the money down into the streams of water washing down the street.
It started getting very dark on my way back. I couldn’t tell the time, but it felt like I’d been out for hours. Every time I turned a corner a bit more light faded, like doors were shutting at the end of streets. My stomach was twisting with hunger and I was shivering with cold. With every sodden step I told myself it would be worth it to please Mammy and get my money to see the sights of Howth. I wasn’t sure I was interested in seeing that ancient church. I wasn’t sure if worshipping the Blessed Virgin Mary would ever help my prayers be heard and stop the fighting and shouting at home. But there was a castle and a lighthouse and glorious views over Dublin Bay. And we were going by bus!
I’d only ever been to Dublin once before, with Daddy on a Christmas-shopping trip. It was like something out of a storybook, and I’d kept pinching myself and wondering if it was real, because Daddy had never taken me anywhere before. I still don’t know why he did it. It was a complete surprise, and he didn’t shout at me or tell me off once.
Remembering the Christmas trip cheered me up. I’m sure Daddy smiled when we looked at the lights and displays in the shop windows, and he even took me into Woolworth’s for a mug of milk and a pink wafer biscuit. Every detail was etched in my memory, because it was such an unusual thing for Daddy to do. If Mammy let me go on that trip, I was sure she would let me do another one.
At last I was back from the off licence. Falling through the back door with the cider tucked under my dripping cardie, I felt like I’d marched to the top of Howth Castle and defeated a whole army of those Norman invaders Mother Dorothy told us about. I’d never been so glad to get home in my life before.
‘Here you go, Mammy,’ I said proudly, holding out the bottle like a trophy.
‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ she screamed back. ‘You’ve been gone for fuckin’ ages! I’ve been waitin’ hours for my cider! Couldn’t you have gone any quicker, you lazy little bitch’ She grabbed the bottle and thumped me sharply in the ear.
I shrieked with pain and cowered in the kitchen, watching nervously as she twisted off the metal bottle top with her teeth, poured herself a large tumblerful and took a long, slow slug of the cider.
She sat back in her rocking chair, and I was sure I saw her face soften a bit. The deep frown lines between her eyes seemed to fade as the golden liquid slid down her throat.
Steeling myself to take a few steps towards her, with the sound of blood pumping noisily through my smarting ear, I asked gingerly: ‘Mammy, I was wonderin’, could I have some money to go to Howth? Mother Dorothy says we’re all to pay a contribution, as we’re going on a bus and we’re going to see a holy church and…’
‘No way!’ Mammy screeched. ‘Where in God’s name do you think I’m going to get that kind of money from? Do you think I’m made of money? Do you think it grows on trees? You’re such a selfish cow, Cynthia. If I were to pay for you to go gallivanting off to Howth, you’d be taking food out of the babies’ mouths. Tell that interfering nun you can’t go. No way!’
She swigged greedily from her glass and slammed it down. ‘Get yourself to bed. Get out of my sight!’
I stripped off my soaked clothes and lay shivering in bed, hot tears streaming down my cheeks and running into the cold rainwater trickling from my hair.
I thought about telling Mother Dorothy the truth. ‘My Mammy hates me! She won’t let me go on the trip! She says we can’t afford it, but she drinks cider! She smokes lots of cigarettes! It’s not fair!’
Instead, the next day I tiptoed into her office like a poor church mouse, scuttling along quietly so as not to be seen by the other children as I tapped on the door. ‘I’m sorry, Mother Dorothy. My family cannot afford to send me on the trip,’ I muttered. ‘I’m afraid I can’t go.’
Mother Dorothy sighed deeply, as if I was testing her patience to the limit. She looked me up and down several times, scowling and tutting and shaking her head from side to side.
I thought she might reach for her cane, and I started to feel jittery.
‘Very well, the school will make an exception and fund the trip,’ she snapped.
I wasn’t sure what she meant at first and stood there quaking, hanging my head in shame.
‘I said you can go on the trip, child! You do not have to pay. I will let you go for free. Do you understand? Are you not grateful? Well then?’
I couldn’t believe my ears. Mammy just had to provide a packed lunch.
‘Bring some bread and butter and a bottle of water like all the other children,’ Mother Dorothy bellowed. ‘That is all you need, child. Be off with you now! And be thankful! Thank the Lord for your good fortune!’
Mammy liked money, but she didn’t like to spend it on us kids. In fact the more money she had, it seemed, the more alcohol she drank, or the fancier the bottles it came in. Whenever I heard her shouting ‘Where’s the fuckin’ money?’ to Daddy she complained that she had to ‘make do’ with whatever alcohol she could afford.
Yet when I told her about the free trip she still wasn’t happy with me. I thought she’d be pleased I wouldn’t be taking away her drinking and smoking money, or housekeeping for the little ones’ milk, and that the nuns wouldn’t be knocking on the door and shaming the family, asking why I didn’t pay the contribution. In fact, she was furious about the nuns dishing out charity. ‘Haven’t I told you, we don’t take charity!’ she screamed. Thankfully, she didn’t go so far as banning me from going on the trip, and when she ordered me upstairs to the double bed I was relieved to get out of her way. ‘Off you go now. Hurry up and no messin’ about,’ she shouted. ‘Up those stairs now!’
I felt uncomfortable to be in the double bed again and couldn’t sleep. I tried to think of good things to stop myself feeling worried about Daddy tucking himself in too close to me again, as I was sure he would when he eventually came in from the pub.
I thought about the school trip and my Christmas shopping with Daddy, and as the minutes and hours dragged by my mind flicked back to another Christmas. It might have been when I was four or five. I remembered waking up on Christmas morning and seeing something glistening in the dark. A stray shard of light had managed to break through the only slither of window not covered by the black blanket, and it was making halos of light as it hit something shiny. When I tiptoed over to get a closer look I clattered my shins into something hard and round and rubbery. It was a trike! It had a little basket on the handlebars and it was brand-new. I couldn’t believe such a shiny, new gift was for me. I’d never had such a big present in my life before. I was thrilled. Lying in bed now, I remembered how it wasn’t long before some boys took the back wheels off it to make themselves a trolley, and I was heartbroken. But at least it was mine for a while. I tried to hold on to the happy memory, not the bad one, but still I felt nervous lying in that bed.
Daddy’s key twisting in the front-door lock snapped all my memories from my mind.
I quivered as I felt my nerves wake up and start to jangle. How should I feel about being sent to the big bed again? I didn’t know as it all kept changing. Perhaps I was worrying too much, but I couldn’t help myself, especially as it kept on happening. A few nights earlier, Daddy had climbed into bed with me. I think it must have been very late indeed, because I couldn’t remember much about it. My head was thick with sleep when I felt him squeeze in behind me. I didn’t remember feeling scared, and I didn’t remember him doing anything that felt strange. No, Daddy wasn’t going to frighten me. He loved me, didn’t he? He must do, or he wouldn’t want to sleep next to me.