understood she just nodded, looking a little sad. I turned to my
siblings – Peter looked stony-faced and angry, Agatha, who was holding Cecily, was panic-stricken and Martin seemed as confused as me. At that moment a large policeman came up to us all and
asked us to stand up and follow him outside. None of us moved.
‘Come on now, children,’ he said gently. ‘There’s no point making this any harder for yoursel’s. Just come along now . . .’
‘NO!’ Peter shouted violently. In that instant, my mind flared with understanding:
They are taking us away from Mammy!
‘I won’t go!’ Peter shouted again and then got up and made to run out of the court, but the policeman was too quick for him. He leaned down and caught him in a big bear hug
– Peter was struggling and shouting and in another second we were all up on our feet, bawling and screaming at the same time.
‘Let go of me, you bastard!’
‘I don’t want to go!’
‘Mammy! Mammy!’
‘Don’t let them take us away!’
‘NO!’
‘Mammy! I want to stay with Mammy!’
Before I knew what was happening we were surrounded on all sides by gigantic legs encased in black trousers – there must have been three or four policemen towering over us, their arms
outstretched to stop us escaping. I dropped to the floor and started to crawl through a pair of legs, desperate to get to Mammy. Being so skinny, it wasn’t hard to get through the legs but in
another second a firm pair of hands dragged me up by the armpits and swung me out of the room.
‘Get off! Get off me!’ I screamed, my legs bicycling helplessly through the air. The elastic band on my left shoe broke and my precious black patent shoe fell to the floor.
‘My shoe!’ I yelled. I was crying now, tears streaming down my face, unable to comprehend what was going on, helpless to stop it. ‘Please! Don’t take me away. I need my
mammy!’
All around me the air was filled with the terrible screams and wailing of my brothers and sisters as we were dragged, carried and heaved out of the courtroom and into police cars. Blind with
rage and terror, I felt the cold Dublin air hit my calves. And still I struggled and still I called out to my mammy. The hands under my arms were too strong for me. I wriggled left and then right,
I tried to reach for a face to claw at, I tried to kick out but I couldn’t find anything.
Where are they taking me? Where is my mammy?
I screamed for her over and over: ‘Mammy!
Mammy! Mammy!’
Moments later, I was plonked down into the back seat of a police car and I looked over. Next to me was a furious Peter, shouting like crazy. My missing shoe was thrown in after me then Martin
and Agatha quickly followed – they were red-faced with anger, howling their heads off. The car door was slammed shut, the driver started up the engine and, in no time, we were gone.
‘Would you all just SHUT UP!’ the policeman in the front passenger seat exploded once we had driven a few minutes away from the court. ‘I’ve got your little sister here
and she does not enjoy listening to your caterwauling. Just put a sock in it. It’s not going to make a blind bit of difference anyways so have some thought for her and keep it
down.’
It was enough to get us to stop shouting – I hadn’t realized Cecily was upfront with the policeman. I didn’t know what was happening at all. Martin squirmed next to me, Agatha
sniffed and Peter punched the car door with his fist.
‘Jesus!’ he fumed, only quietly this time.
‘Do you know where we’re going, Peter?’ I whispered but he just shook his head. I was scared now. I didn’t know what to expect. We’d been sent to children’s
homes before but never like this – never from a courtroom. There was something very different about the way this had happened, very final. And Frances wasn’t with us this time
either.
The car wound its way through the streets of Dublin and for a while we all just sat silently in the back,
siblings – Peter looked stony-faced and angry, Agatha, who was holding Cecily, was panic-stricken and Martin seemed as confused as me. At that moment a large policeman came up to us all and
asked us to stand up and follow him outside. None of us moved.
‘Come on now, children,’ he said gently. ‘There’s no point making this any harder for yoursel’s. Just come along now . . .’
‘NO!’ Peter shouted violently. In that instant, my mind flared with understanding:
They are taking us away from Mammy!
‘I won’t go!’ Peter shouted again and then got up and made to run out of the court, but the policeman was too quick for him. He leaned down and caught him in a big bear hug
– Peter was struggling and shouting and in another second we were all up on our feet, bawling and screaming at the same time.
‘Let go of me, you bastard!’
‘I don’t want to go!’
‘Mammy! Mammy!’
‘Don’t let them take us away!’
‘NO!’
‘Mammy! I want to stay with Mammy!’
Before I knew what was happening we were surrounded on all sides by gigantic legs encased in black trousers – there must have been three or four policemen towering over us, their arms
outstretched to stop us escaping. I dropped to the floor and started to crawl through a pair of legs, desperate to get to Mammy. Being so skinny, it wasn’t hard to get through the legs but in
another second a firm pair of hands dragged me up by the armpits and swung me out of the room.
‘Get off! Get off me!’ I screamed, my legs bicycling helplessly through the air. The elastic band on my left shoe broke and my precious black patent shoe fell to the floor.
‘My shoe!’ I yelled. I was crying now, tears streaming down my face, unable to comprehend what was going on, helpless to stop it. ‘Please! Don’t take me away. I need my
mammy!’
All around me the air was filled with the terrible screams and wailing of my brothers and sisters as we were dragged, carried and heaved out of the courtroom and into police cars. Blind with
rage and terror, I felt the cold Dublin air hit my calves. And still I struggled and still I called out to my mammy. The hands under my arms were too strong for me. I wriggled left and then right,
I tried to reach for a face to claw at, I tried to kick out but I couldn’t find anything.
Where are they taking me? Where is my mammy?
I screamed for her over and over: ‘Mammy!
Mammy! Mammy!’
Moments later, I was plonked down into the back seat of a police car and I looked over. Next to me was a furious Peter, shouting like crazy. My missing shoe was thrown in after me then Martin
and Agatha quickly followed – they were red-faced with anger, howling their heads off. The car door was slammed shut, the driver started up the engine and, in no time, we were gone.
‘Would you all just SHUT UP!’ the policeman in the front passenger seat exploded once we had driven a few minutes away from the court. ‘I’ve got your little sister here
and she does not enjoy listening to your caterwauling. Just put a sock in it. It’s not going to make a blind bit of difference anyways so have some thought for her and keep it
down.’
It was enough to get us to stop shouting – I hadn’t realized Cecily was upfront with the policeman. I didn’t know what was happening at all. Martin squirmed next to me, Agatha
sniffed and Peter punched the car door with his fist.
‘Jesus!’ he fumed, only quietly this time.
‘Do you know where we’re going, Peter?’ I whispered but he just shook his head. I was scared now. I didn’t know what to expect. We’d been sent to children’s
homes before but never like this – never from a courtroom. There was something very different about the way this had happened, very final. And Frances wasn’t with us this time
either.
The car wound its way through the streets of Dublin and for a while we all just sat silently in the back,
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