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Back Before My Actual Heart Breaks Save as PDF
Chapters (48)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 2007
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 1973
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 1982
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 1998
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 2004
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 2007
  44. 34
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. Acknowledgements
  48. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

John had made the bed very high. I had to climb on to it and when I settled myself my legs dangled over the edge in their stupid pink plastic shoes. I was too lonely to cry. The holdall had my toothbrush, a nightie, a facecloth and a bar of Camay soap from the set of three that Mammy had got from Auntie Vi the previous Christmas. I was spoilt.

My eyes were dry balls as I stared into the darkness settling around me. Now and then I switched on the torch that Bridie gave me, in case I needed to ‘go out’ in the night to the dreaded Tin House. But she had also told me to ‘go easy on the torch because batteries were very dear’. Good Christ, I couldn’t be expected to live in a house with no running water, no toilet that wasn’t a walk away in the dark and no electric light? Home had had plenty wrong with it but at least had those!

I’d give my mother such a piece of my mind when I went back to The Hill. I didn’t care how much I would have to pay for it, how many slaps I would have to take for my own good. When I lay down in my wedding suit and pulled the blankets over my head I could still hear the deft clip of the rats’ nails.

14

I felt ridiculous when I finally walked into the kitchen the next morning still dressed like a French Fancy. John Johns wasn’t there, thank God. Bridie was bustling about asking me if I’d slept alright and saying that I mustn’t worry. Everything would be grand given enough time. Sit down and she’d get me a cup of tea. Would I take a drop scone? A pancake? Don’t worry, they’re not home-made! Would I like an egg? No, I wouldn’t like an egg.

–  Mrs Johns, I need to borrow some shoes to go home in.

–  Oh, there’s no need, Mary, your father’ll be along today. And for heaven’s sake call me Bridie!

–  Oh, well, that’s okay then …

–  Yes, yes, that’s okay. D’you know, I think I will make you that egg anyway, you must be starvin’.

I was starving. I ate the egg after I’d picked a fleck of blood out of it, and two slices of shop bread with a big mug of tea, and I felt better. It’s hard to beat a boilie was one of Auntie Eileen’s favourite jokes. I must wash my face before Daddy comes to get me. Bridie is pottering about, washing up her few auld cups and such, so I wait for him outside in the scent from Bridie’s much-tended roses.