Mammy’s ‘good case’ was full of memories for me but it all fell apart in London

Once a year the suitcase lay open on her bed, all ready for our mother’s annual trip to the maternity home. How it fascinated me! Precious beautiful items lay within, a new nightdress, a lovely soft pink bed jacket with smooth satin ribbons.

“Mammy’s good case” we called it. Nothing since, in my whole life, has held the same fascination for me.

I didn’t understand then at all, about travelling, journeys and excitement. To close the case, to go and experience life – all this lay in Mammy’s good case.

In the weeks before her departure I took every opportunity to visit her case. I can see now the pink patterned cloth lining. I can smell the soft leather. I can feel the anticipation, the anticipation of unease and excitement.

Then the next new baby would come home. Mammy’s good case would be unpacked, put away and forgotten.

Years passed and I had travelled back and forth to boarding school, with a series of cheap battered big cardboard cases.

Then, first year in college, my friends and I decided to go to London for the summer, our first experience of real travel, at last. As we discussed the journey and planned every exciting detail my mother said: “Why don’t you take my case. I don’t need it anymore.”

It lay on my bed now, with its beautiful pink patterned lining. Into it I placed all my hopes and dreams of London, of real travel, of excitement, of joy.

I was so proud as I boarded the mail-boat for England that summer. I was a proper traveller, with a proper suitcase! We docked in Holyhead and got ready to disembark. As I stood at the top of the gangplank the handle of the suitcase broke off. Mammy’s good case left me, tumbling slowly all by itself down the gangplank, arriving on English soil before myself and its handle.

It was the let-down that really devastated me, for Mammy’s good case wasn’t good anymore. It was ancient and old and had long since served its purpose. And London wasn’t good either, and neither was that summer.

When the lid fell off and the lining ripped apart my friends assured me that it definitely wasn’t worth bringing home. I left Mammy’s good case in an English dump – along with all my hopes and dreams of exciting travel.

Jean Farrell