Living With Evil by Cynthia Owen (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

like the mammies did, because I remembered how much I liked it when Esther used to hold my hand on the way to school.

Our mammy just stayed in bed.

I worried about the babies when I was out. I always left them in clean nappies, even if it meant tearing up old sheets and towels and wrapping them round their wriggling bottoms.

But they were always dirty and smelly when I got home at lunchtime to give them a slice of bread or some mashed-up potato and corned beef. Their little feet would be blue with cold too. I felt sorry for them.

Theresa was a very sweet, calm baby who never made much fuss and greeted me with great big smiles, but Michael hardly ever seemed happy.

Often when I came in, he would be rocking back and forth in a chair, or banging his head off a wall and crying. It made me really sad to see him like that, and I gave him extra cuddles.

After school, I went to the local shops for cigarettes and more bread or meat and vegetables. From time to time Mammy sent me to Dun Laoghaire with an old pram to fetch coal. It was three miles away, and my legs ached, but Mammy always warned me not to argue, and I didn’t want the babies to be cold so I always fetched the coal.

Sometimes we needed briquettes for the fire too. They had wire carriers around them that cut my hands, but I didn’t bother complaining. Most of the time I carried bags of turf and sacks of potatoes on my back. I got so tired in the evening my arms and legs felt as if lead weights, but I’d always help make the dinner. It felt as if I’d peeled a million spuds, but Mammy usually did the actual cooking.

If she was in a good mood, she made nice things, like burgers or chops with cabbage and turnips, but if she was in a bad mood or was very tired, we dipped bread into a dissolved Oxo cube or spread it with tomato ketchup.

By 7 p.m. I’d be dropping with tiredness, but I had to walk back to the shops to buy more cigarettes and alcohol for Mammy.

One day I asked her if I could buy all the shopping in one go, instead of making three separate trips. The local shops were only a ten-minute walk away, but I got fed up with all the walking and going in the same shops over and over again.

‘No way!’ was all Mammy said.

‘But I’m tired, Mammy. I could get everything we need at lunchtime! Why do I have to go at four o’clock and seven o’clock? I’m really tired.’

‘No way!’ she repeated angrily. ‘Are you arguing with me?’ Her fist was raised, and I knew that if I said yes she would punch me.

‘No, Mammy, I am not arguing,’ I said.

‘Good. Don’t be such lazy bitch. Just do it.’

When I climbed into bed, I’d be desperate for sleep, but my chores for the day were still not over. The thug was still attacking me in bed whenever he felt like it. Mammy seemed to have given him an open invitation into my bedroom whenever Daddy was still in the pub.

Daddy was still regularly hurting me in bed in the early hours of the morning, once he’d staggered home, usually the worse for drink, and once a month I was still being dragged to that horrible building with all those scary men.

When I had my ‘thing’ and I bled every month, I felt more tired still, but still none of the men left me alone. The blood made me feel messy and dirty, but none of the people who touched my body seemed to be bothered by it.

I felt ashamed of the old rags and cut-up jumpers in my knickers.

Uncle Frank and Aunt Mag called me a dirty bitch whether I was bleeding or not, and so did Aunt Ann, though they were touching me less and less these days.

Some of the men in the building remarked on it, and even seemed to like seeing my blood. I could never forget the leering comments they made, even though, every time I went there, I felt like bits of my brain had fallen out of my head.

Daddy never spoke to me in bed, apart from to tell me sometimes it was ‘Mammy’s fault’ he was hurting me. ‘Get here now, you!’ he said most nights, and after that he just grunted.

I wondered if my life would ever change. I thought about my big sister Esther and wondered if maybe one day I could get on a boat and sail away like she did.

Margaret had sailed away now too. I heard Mammy and Daddy discussing how she had gone off to start a new job. Theresa wasn’t two yet, and it was decided that Mammy and Daddy would adopt her.

I was about to join fifth class at school. I was nearly eleven, and I looked forward to being one of the bigger girls in the school. I was growing up fast.

I hoped that maybe now I was a big girl my life might finally change for the better. It couldn’t get worse, could it?

Chapter 13

‘You’re Having a Baby’

I loved joining fifth class, and I was delighted to meet our teacher. She was young and pretty with blond hair.

She looked so much kinder than Mother Dorothy, and I noticed from the very first day that I got asked the same questions and was given the same chances to join in as all the posh kids.

If I didn’t have a pencil or a copy book the teacher always managed to find me one, and when I told her I ‘forgot’ my cookery ingredients she gave me a kind look, like she understood and had actually been there when Daddy said, ‘No way! I’m not givin’ you the money. Your mother can teach you to cook!’

Our teacher gave us singing lessons, and