Part One
Freestyle Living
Being twin daughters of a single female hippie born in rural Ireland in 1988 and called Spirit and Dance has to be the entirely worst thing that could ever happen to two sane individuals mentally but not physically joined at the hip. Well that and starting school!
Our tale begins and ends together so we shall tell it as one. We are not identical, Spirit is dark haired and sallow whereas Dance is blonde and pale. When we were really little we pretended to be fairies in the woods. We danced and chanted and giggled and laughed; we had such fun together. We ate wild berries and mushrooms, fished in the stream by tickling the trout like our mother taught. She would build fires and we would barbeque the fish and mushrooms.
Sometimes there would be friends of mother’s; men with long hair tied in ponytails and women with short spiky hair in colours of the rainbow. Children came too, that was great; we would play famous Celtic tales like Echtra Nerai or Cath Maige Tuireadh. They talked of school but we thought it was another type of game and never questioned them or mother. They would park their caravans on our land and stay sometimes only a week, once or twice over a year. Mother never let anyone stay in our house. She had a little caravan that she moved into as soon as she decided we were old enough to be left alone.
We call our mother “mother” because it annoys her. She would like us to address her as Sweet Divinity, the name she chose when she left home to join a commune. We found out years later she was called Mary Winifred O’Connell but we were used to mother by then and much as we would have liked to annoy her with Mary we could never remember it in time. We never really knew mother, just when we thought we understood what she was, she changed becoming more robust, or a little fragile, very political or like an earth mother. Her moods were like shifting sands, when other people were around she was always bright and shining like a beacon of hope. However when they left they snuffed out the spark of hope and we endured dark days, sometimes she didn’t cook for days or even get out of bed. It was on one such deep black nadir, as long as we had known, lasting more than five days that we went in search of food and changed our lives forever. We could only count up to five and we had done that and eaten all the berries we could find. We weren’t sure about weeks but we knew it was autumn as the leaves were falling from trees, it was getting colder and both of us had put on shoes for the first time that year. We were about six and we dressed with care for the occasion of the big walk. Spirit was wearing orange corduroys with a yellow jumper that came down to her knees. Dance was wearing a dress that dragged along the ground made out of heavy crushed velvet. A dark blue matching cardigan two sizes too small finished her outfit.
We now know that we looked wild but back then it seemed natural to have our hair streaming down our back, unkempt with twig and leaf entwined. The clothes we wore were either too big or too small, all given by these transient caravanners as part payment for water and pitch. So on this particularly momentous day in our lives we thought we looked normal and set off down the road. We decided to walk down rather than up because when the people went for a walk in the evening they always went that way and came home cheery, loud and happy.
The first part we skipped as a new freedom descended on us, this slowly gave way to a slower pace until we were trudging. Our clothes were getting wet as rain dripped unnecessarily harshly, they hung down and got heavier and muddier as we marched our slow monotonous walk. The village started abruptly as we turned a bend, cottages on both sides gave way to terraces and eventually we saw a shop. We had brought money in mother’s purse. Although naïve about a lot of things we knew that mother gave money to get things and people gave money to her for staying with her. We pushed open the door and Dance spoke to the lady, well pointed at things; a packet of jam biscuits, a chocolate bar and bananas. Spirit opened the purse and gave it to the lady.
Honesty was thankfully well imbued in the shop lady and she only took out the £2.30 needed. We left and sat on a bench outside, each item came out of the bag, halved and stuffed unceremonially into our watering waiting mouths. We choked and spluttered our way through the food and with hiccups stood and went in search of something to quench our thirst. As we turned a corner a group of children were coming the other way. We said hello to them but they laughed, encircling us, they pointed; at our hair, our faces now covered in chocolate and biscuit crumbs, our clothes, they said we smelled funny, we were dirty, and we were stupid. We cowered turning into each other, arm around protecting, not understanding why but aware of danger. The noise must have alerted some adults to investigate because suddenly the chanting stopped and we opened our eyes. A huge man stood over them asking who they were. Spirit spoke, “I am Spirit. She is Dance.” “Come on now girls, tell the truth. You have run away and stolen a lot of money. Mrs Hanrahan at the shop says you had more than fifty pounds in that purse. Tell the truth like good girls.” Dance moved forward, facing him, she craned her neck until she could see his face, “We tell truth, me Dance and she is Spirit, we were hungry so we came for food.” Spirit dragged her back to be with her and put her arms back around her. “Sergeant Barlow, I think they could be Mary the Hippie’s kids. Do you remember the couple that were there last year, what were they called? … Bill and Florida, they mentioned girls but we thought they were stoners,” this came from the mouth of the landlord of the Half Keg Bar, Johnnie Mackie. “Where do you live girls? What is your Mammy called? Do you live up that road?” Sergeant Barlow pointed up towards our road whilst firing the questions at us. Spirit let out a little “yes” barely coherent, barely a whisper before she fainted and Dance followed her.
We came to in the Garda Station, Mrs Hanrahan, the landlord and the Sergeant were talking about us. We couldn’t grasp every word but “school” “parent” “care” and “poor” were mentioned over and over. We saw the lady crying so we got up and went to her, we held her hands and she cried more. “Well girls, we had better get you home,” the Sergeant spoke gently to them now and he ushered them out and into the Garda car.
Back at home we went into our house, undressed and went to bed, exhausted by the day’s events. Later, mother came in and told us that because of what we had done we were to start school in a tone that made us very afraid and we clung together all night.
Part Two
Life is not so Sweet
“Jack, can you take the boys to school for me today, I must start out early. New case in Ballyeden,” Ann Donahue asked her husband. “Ann, that’s the third time this year you’ve asked me. I have a meeting with the Americans at ten and I need to prepare. You said these extra hours wouldn’t affect your duties in the home but from what I can see the boys and I are suffering. No potatoes again last night for supper and the reason given; too tired. Well Ann I am sorry but Kyle and Ryan are your responsibility. I was never in favour of you returning to work so soon, the boys aren’t even ten, I’m off to work, bye!” And he was gone toast in hand, Ann sat down at the table and wept. Where were her feminist principles now, at college she would have given as good as she got. She would’ve told him they were both parents and it was their joint responsibility to mind the kids. Rural Ireland was no place for intelligent career women in 1994. Jack laughed at her and put her down, she knew in her heart she was victim of emotional abuse but she loved him and the alternatives she knew from her work were too awful to contemplate. Drying her eyes and breathing deeply she resolved to get the day going. “Kyle! Ryan! Come on I’ll drop you at Nana’s and she will bring you to school. Have you got lunch? Straighten your tie Ryan, Mrs. Brennan will call you a scruff!.” The boys surprised her by complying without a moan and moved off outside to the car. Brightly Ann decided this was a good omen and she would deal with the day well. Nana was Jack’s Mam, she had raised six children, never working outside the home and thought Ann unacceptable as a mother and wife. She was always ready with a comment about Ann’s lack of household accomplishments and always finished with some remark about not seeing them at Mass on Sunday. Ann hated her Mother-in Law but she tried to smile as she knocked on the door. “How many times do I have to tell you Ann my dear come straight in, your family.” The matriarchal Donahue proclaimed loudly.
“Hello Ryan, Kyle you’re up early. Come in while I get you some proper breakfast. Granda’s out the back with the greyhounds. Go on through!” “Hi Nan!” they both shouted as they rushed past and into the back garden to play with the dogs.
“I suppose you need me to take them to school again Ann, Surely with Jack’s promotion you can afford to give the boys a better home life and stay in the house. I don’t understand you young girls so quick to leave the home and into work leaving poor mites to fend for themselves,” Bridie Donahue was in fine form this morning.
“I know Bridie and I am sorry to land them on you again but I have to go deal with the hippie girls over in Ballyeden. They have never been to school and I have to take them today” Ann was on the defensive, if Bridie said no she was in trouble at work if she said yes it would be brought up at every family meal for the next year.
“Why didn’t you say so, those little tinker girls need your help. Tell you what, the boys can come to me for tea today and we’ll have a cuppa together when you pick them up, nice”
“Okay, see you later, kiss the boys for me I must dash!” Ann left and started her journey to Ballyeden. She is going to use that against me too when she sees Jack, Ann thought, I can just hear her, “Jack, she just dropped them off without a kiss or a goodbye, said I could kiss them for her if I like. What kind of woman did you marry?” she mimicked Bridie and smiled to herself. Now, she chided herself, concentrate on the girls. Dance and Spirit. What kind of names were they? She remembered Bridie when Kyle was born, she called him Sean for six months hoping to sway opinion her way. For once, Ann had won but never forgiven. Mother was Sweet Charity also known as Mary Connell, a hippie who didn’t work and had all the time in the world to get her children to school on time. But no, it was down to her. “Blast!” she cursed as she got out of the car and straight into a puddle. She looked around at the mess; rubbish piled high in all directions, big pot holes of dirty puddles and scratching noise of rodents close by. She wrote on her notebook, unsanitary: environmental health. She moved towards the cottage, the sooner she got these kids into care the better but first she had to go through the motions. The door was not locked so she stepped in; the smell of stale food and bodies greeted her and she saw two pairs of eyes locked on her every move from under the blanket.
“Girls, come out from under there . Where is your mother? Where is Mary O’Connell? Come out!” She advanced on the two girls and lifted the blanket from them. The sight of the little waifs was shocking to the professionally stoic Ann Donahue. This is textbook abuse she thought. To her eyes the wild hair, the ingrained dirt, the smears of food on both bed and face, the size of them and finally the smell of the creatures was putrid to her sensitive nose. “C’mon girls, we are going into the village, we’ll clean you up and get you to school before small lunch,” as she spoke she picked up the tiny mites in her arms. However distasteful they were she needed them to get moving. “In you go!” she said to them as they were dropped in to the back of her car. “Do you know where your mother is?” Ann asked the two shivering girls and they nodded and pointed to the caravan. Ann turned on her heel and strode through the puddles as though they didn’t exist. She wondered whether you were supposed to knock on a caravan door like a front door, not in this instance she answered herself and burst through the door. The incongruence of the living arrangements for the mother and children was telling. Ann stood askance at the Bedouin feel to the caravan; the walls were opulently draped with pink and purple satins and silks, cushions of all shapes and sizes filled the living area and in the middle puffing on a hookah was Sweet Divinity, all of her, naked. “Mary O’Connell?” Ann began, “I am taking Dance and Spirit with me. They are to start school and based on my report it is unlikely they will be back to you.” As she went on this became a roar as Sweet Divinity just lay back a mellow wide grin on her face.
“Hey, sister, want some? You look in need of some mellowing. Come on, the girls are fine, can’t they find their own way to school?” Sweet Divinity slurred. Ann could not believe the way this woman was behaving, throwing her business card on the cushions she left.
Fenced in
We were locked in the car and watched as the hard looking woman went to mother’s caravan. It was scary but still seemed like an adventure, back to the village might mean more chocolate for dinner. “I don’t know how you have survived,” the woman who told us she was called Mrs. Donahue was talking to us but we didn’t answer. At the pub we were ushered out of the car and into the bar. It smelt sour and smoky, Johnnie Mackie took us upstairs where his wife Sinead was waiting. They had the biggest bathroom we had ever seen; all white and sparkly, smelling of soap things. We only had a sink, no bath and we didn’t like it because the water was always freezing cold even in the summer. Sinead was telling us to get undressed and she was turning on the taps. Hot water gushed out so fast that Spirit squealed and grabbed Dance. Steam filled the warm room and we were placed in the warm froth of bubbles that smelled like strawberries. We started splashing each other and laughing, it was like playing in the stream in the summer. Gently Sinead stopped us and began to wash us both, the water became muddy as our skin was going pink with the heat and ferocious scrubbing from the pub lady. She poured water over our heads and washed our hair and then did it again. We were pulled from the bath and smothered in fluffy white towels. Our hair was pulled and yanked and painfully tied in bunches. We giggled and spun round, the bunches slapping our faces playfully. In another room two sets of clothes were laid out for us, they were exactly the same and we noticed the same as the children that surrounded us yesterday. Grey socks that came over our knees and then slipped down to the ankles, pale blue blouses with dark blue ties, dark blue pinafores that nearly fell off they were so big. Johnnie put string round our middles to keep them in place and put coats on us. The coats were red and shiny and smooth. We started spinning again, laughing and giggling, we were having so much fun. Mrs Donahue brought us back down to earth with a bump as she uttered that word “school!” again. Out in the street she held our hands tightly and pulled us up the street. We saw Mrs. Hanrahan and the Sergeant watching us, as we entered the grey building. It smelled funny, like clean but not in a strawberry Sinead way. Once mother came into our house and threw everything onto the floor and took a bottle and emptied it into the basin with water and told us to wipe down all the surfaces. It made our hands red and sore and now school smelt like that, ‘Parazone’ she had called it. Doors opened as we walked down the corridor, faces peered out; talking, chatting louder and louder until we put our hands over our ears, too noisy. Pushing us into a classroom, Mrs. Donahue announced our arrival into Junior Infants.
to be continued - one day
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