An extract from Run, Lily, Run by Martha Long

POOR YOU, CEILY! Ye’re only twelve an you have te be all growed up but wasn’t it lucky ye got yer birthday yesterday? Or maybe now ye wouldn’t be a really big girl. An now I’m big too! I got me birthday as well the other day, I’m now seven!’ I hiccupped, smilin now instead a cryin. It was comin wit me havin tha great thought.

‘Lily, if you don’t shrrup I’ll give you a kick up yer skinny arse! I can’t listen to any more of ye – if you’re not cryin ye’re whingin, now you’re ramblin an talkin mad an I’m goin te go outa me mind. SO SHRRUP! SHRRUP, SHRRUP!’ Ceily screamed, tearin at her hair.

I started te cry again, the deep sobs tearin up from me lungs, an huge snots started bubblin down me nose an pourin straight inta me mouth. I stuck me tongue out fer me te lick an taste it, then I swallowed. Now I can still feel the wet heat of it slidin down me neck an disappearin inta me belly as I turned an stared around the darkenin room then looked up te Ceily again, wantin her te make the fear an the pain in me an all me loss go away.

She stared at me wit her eyes red-rimmed an swollen-lookin like she was in shock, but I could see her mind flyin. She was waitin fer the answer te come, then she would take charge. There was no one else.

A few days ago, I came back from school te be told me mammy was in the hospidal. It was only tha night when Ceily arrived in from work, the neighbours, they were waitin te tell her the true, real bad news. They heard the screamin comin from our front room, Mammy had tried te open the street door but collapsed before she could get out. Be the time they got her te hospidal she was dead. Her bowel had burst, poisonin her they said. It ran right through her so fast, there was nothin they or anyone else could do fer her.

I remember when we came back from the hospidal an everyone had finally left, all the friends and neighbours wavin an smilin wantin te get out an home, away from the sorry sad sight of the pair of us - tha’s wha Ceily called it. Then she said it was me standin wit the bony knees rattlin, grippin a tight hold of Molly me dolly, an then herself, Ceily, she bein left te get on wit it in the empty little house now suddenly cold an terribly bare without Mammy. They promised te look in on the pair of us an we were not te be afraid te ask, if we wanted or needed anythin. Then they were gone, rushin out the front door bangin it shut behind them, leavin us wit the emptiness.

We didn’t have a father neither, I often heard me mammy talkin about him. It would be at night when she was sittin around the fire wit Delia Mullins, she was her very best, bestest friend since they were childre goin te school together.

We were supposed te be up in bed sleepin, but not me. I would be out on the landin earwiggin. I would be dyin te know wha they’re talkin about, because childre are not never allowed te hear their business.

So I heard them talkin, whisperin in a low voice, but I still heard anyway, wha they were sayin about me father an tha he was no good. He cleared off, but not before satisfyin a glint in his eye, leavin me mammy te carry me an I less than the size of a green pea. I was the scrapins of the pot, she said, three born dead before me, an in between she lost four childre. She had no relatives, her ma had scarpered off leavin her wit the granny te drag up – tha meanin she havin te rear herself.

I knew all tha from years a listenin, earwiggin Mammy calls . . . called it.

Now we’re just back from buryin Mammy in her grave. But she’s not really dead. Tha was not my mammy they lowered down tha dark hole then turned an walked away. Sure she’d be freezin wit the cold an left all on her own. I shook me head thinkin about it. No! She’s not dead, an the cheek a people fer sayin tha!

‘Look at the state a them shoes!’ Ceily suddenly screamed.

I stopped roarin, goin inta sudden silence as the pair of us gaped down at the extra inches now plastered te the soles of me one good pair a Sunday shoes. I only wore them fer Mass on Sundays, but got te keep them on if we were then goin out somewhere fancy, like up fer a walk te the Phoenix Park, then down onto O’Connell Street te look in the shop windas. Then the best bit! Into Caffolla’s fer our chips-an-egg tea.

‘Come on, let’s get movin. We better get this fire started te warm the house up, then get you sorted fer school tomorrow, I need te get you a clean frock an socks, an I better polish them shoes,’ she said, lookin down at the caked mud smotherin me lovely brown-leather strapped shoes.

We had stood, sinkin so far down inta the mud I thought we were goin te be buried along wit the coffin as we watched them lower it down, all the way into a deep hole wit our dead mammy inside they said. Terrible it was – it had rained hard non-stop fer three whole days solid, without a let-up.

‘I’m goin te have to cut the toes out a them shoes when you grow out a them. It’s tha or nothin! We don’t have money any more fer luxuries,’ Ceily sniffed, liftin her button nose an throwin back a curly head of coppery bangles, one got in her eye an she whipped it back just as another thought hit her.

‘Wha are we goin te do fer money?’ she suddenly whispered, lettin it out on a breath as the fear hit her, makin her eyes stare out of her head wit the shock. ‘We won’t have Mammy’s money any more! She earned more than twice wha I’m gettin. Not te mention the food tha she brought home.’

I got the picture of Mammy bringin in the cooked food wrapped up in wax paper left over from the mad people’s dinners when she was finished her work. She had a good job – workin wit two others she was cookin an servin the breakfast, the dinners and teas fer all the mad people in the Grangegorman Lunatic Asylum.

‘Does tha mean we’re goin te starve, Ceily?’

‘No don’t be stupid! We’ll manage,’ she snorted, lettin out a roar at me. ‘We’ll have te get you a little job, ye can work after school an over the weekends, I’ll see if there’s anythin part- time goin fer meself at night, an I’ll work the weekends too. Don’t you worry yerself, little Lily! Between the pair of us, we’ll get by!’ she promised, grittin her teeth then fixin her eyes on the now dark room seein her way te the days ahead. Then she muttered, ‘We have te be careful, tell no one nothin. If anyone asks,’ she said slowly, droppin her head an starin right in at my face, holdin me eyes pinned te her.

I listened knowin somethin bad was comin.

‘Say we’re doin grand,’ she warned, narrowin her eyes te put a fear in me. ‘Otherwise the authorities will be down on us like a ton of bricks wantin te whip us away into a convent! We’ll be ended locked up!’ Ceily snorted, takin in a deep breath lettin her face turn sour an her eyes narrow.

‘Why? Wha did we do?’ I said, lettin me mouth drop open an feelin me chest tighten wit a terrible fear - maybe they thought one of us had killed our mammy!

‘Because, you little eegit!’ Ceily roared, losin the rag. ‘You’re too young an I’m not old enough to be mindin you! I’m not even supposed te be mindin meself never mind left school an now workin since last year,’ she snapped, lettin tha thought hit her, makin her even more annoyed an afraid. Then she shook her head whisperin. ‘As sure as night follows day they’ll come after us!’ she muttered, starin inta the distance an talkin te herself wit the eyes gettin tha picture. Then she clamped her mouth shut before openin it again, sayin, ‘Mammy had took a chance an got away wit not sendin me back te school. We needed the money. But now? Oh Jesus, we need to light a penny candle an say a prayer we’ll make it through without gettin caught an comin te harm, Lily!’ she moaned, cryin at me wit her voice keenin an her face pained.

I stared waitin te see if any tears came. But they didn’t, she wouldn’t let them.

Run, Lily, Run by Martha Long is published by Transworld Ireland