Read Online Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes by Martha Long - Free Book Online Page B

babby’s legs down the stairs after me. I was afraid I’d drop him on the stone stairs, cos they were very steep, an it was an awful long way down. So I held him tight under his arms, an he was afraid, too. He kept a tight hold on me arms, an he was holdin his breath, afraid te cry.
    When we came onta a landin, we could hear shoutin an screamin. It was comin from downstairs, so I tried te hurry. We nearly fell backwards, but I landed against the banisters, an I was still holdin onta the babby. When I got on te the next landin, me ma was screamin at the two neighbours she’d been friendly wit. One of the women looked at me an shouted, ‘Go on, ye whore! There’s yer bastards now!’ An before she could finish, me ma lunged at her, grabbin her hair. The other woman joined in, an they started tearin me ma te pieces. I screamed an tried te drag the babby away. But they toppled over us, sendin the babby flyin te bang his head on the concrete floor an stampin on him. Me forehead hit the ground, an I was kicked in the head an me back. An me nose started te pump blood. I was tryin te reach out fer the babby, but everythin was spinnin. The babby was tryin te reach his hands in the air te turn himself, an he was blue an he was makin gaspin sounds.
    The women were still draggin me ma along the landin by the hair an punchin her. I crawled over te the babby, an me nose was pumpin blood away like a tap. Everythin was still like a merry-go-round. Blood was pourin onta him, but I grabbed him an started te slap his back te get him te breathe properly, an I was chokin meself in me blood. People came runnin when a man came down the stairs an shouted, ‘There’s kids hurted here! Help me, someone!’ An then doors opened an a woman rushed te pick up the babby, who was white as a sheet an gone very quiet. He was covered, soakin wet, in me blood. They carried us inside the room while the man went te break up the fight.
    We were taken by the ambulance te hospital. An I was put in a ward wit a load of other childre. Me ma didn’t come te the ward wit me, an they didn’t put the babby in wit me. I don’t know wha happened te him, an I’m afraid te ask, cos the nurse is very strict. We have te lie very still in the bed under the white sheets an black blankets, cos the nurse doesn’t like ye te crease the sheets. An we have te keep our arms by our sides, under the blankets. A little child in a cot has knocked down the bars, an he’s whimperin wit fright, cos he can’t get the bars up. He doesn’t look three years old te me. The nurse comes stampin down the ward, grabs him outa the cot an swings him aroun the ward by his arm. She says she’ll teach him a lesson. An she’s screamin an hittin him somethin terrible. I don’t move or breathe; I’m afraid of me life.
    We can only have visitors on a Sunday from three p.m. te four p.m. The doors open, an the visitors rush in. I’m lookin te see if me mammy’s comin. But she’s not here yet. The little girl beside me in the next bed has her mammy an daddy an her granny. An they’re brushin her lovely long curly hair, an fixin her, an pettin her, an makin sure her pillows are fluffed up. An they keep askin her is she all right. But she’s afraid te say anythin, an just buries her head in her mammy’s chest an keeps whisperin, ‘Take me home, Mammy! Take me home.’
    The mammies are all busy, emptyin shoppin bags filled wit Lucozade, an biscuits, an sweets, an washcloths, an towels, an clean nightdresses, an pyjamas fer the boys. I keep watchin the door, but there’s no sign of me mammy, an I feel me heart begin te empty. She’s not comin, an it’s nearly all over. Then the nurse crashes in, wavin the big bell, an announces te everyone, ‘Visitors’ time up,’ an then the childre panic, grabbin their mammies. An some leap inta their arms an won’t let go. ‘No, Mammy!