The Granny (17 page)

“No. I can’t dance, Marion!” Agnes shook her head, which was beginning to get a little fuzzy, as Marion had introduced Agnes to Mr. Smirnoff and Mr. Coca-Cola.

“I’ll teach you, come on,” Marion insisted.

Agnes scanned the dance floor. The music that was playing was “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” And the floor was moving in a clockwise parade of waltzers, most of them girls with girls. Agnes thought they looked silly. She shook her head. “No, Marion. Not yet, maybe in a couple of weeks, but not yet.” She really did not want to try it.

At the end of the waltz, the master of ceremonies made an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, here’s the latest from America. By Bill Haley and the Comets.” And it started. Even before the music began, the girls ran screaming onto the dance floor. They paired off with each other and waited, the energy filling the room.

“One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock, rock” boomed out from the Tannoy, and the rest of the song was sung in unison by the crowd. The dance floor looked as if it had been invaded by a herd of whirling dervishes as the heaving mass began to “jive.”

Agnes was enthralled. She didn’t know what the feeling was, but her foot began to tap, her head to shake, and she wanted to dive onto the floor and go crazy. Agnes was witnessing the birth of “rock and roll.”

“Oh Jesus, Marion, I have to learn that!” she screamed at her tiny friend.

“Come on, then,” roared Marion, and extended her hand.

“Not now. Not here. But you have to teach me,” Agnes pleaded.

Over the next week, Agnes jived around her flat, herself and Marion providing the song, breathlessly singing as they danced. Agnes took to it well, too well for Marion’s liking. Marion would finish each session with her nylons twisted around her ankles and thankful that she still had her knickers on. Connie sat bemused, watching tiny Marion trying to throw Agnes over her shoulder; Connie hadn’t a clue what was going on, but she smiled and even clapped along at times. By the following week, Agnes could jive, and even Dolly knew the words of the song by heart. Rock and roll had invaded the Jarro. The following Friday night, Agnes took a dance from the first boy that asked her, and from then on there was no shortage of boys looking to dance, so Agnes jived the night away. She loved rock and roll, she loved dancing. She was hooked. The thrill of her first night on the tiles was, however, about to be overshadowed.

On her return home to her flat at midnight, she found her mother, who was supposed to be in the care of Dolly, sitting outside the flat, on the landing, chilled to the bone. Agnes took the cold and confused woman into her bed and covered her up. There was no sign of Dolly.

“Mammy, where’s Dolly?” she asked her mother gently.

“Gone. She’s gone,” Connie said.

“Gone where, Mammy? Please, it’s important!” Agnes was furious with Dolly but didn’t show it to her mother.

“The police took her away, they came and took her,” Connie said as she drifted away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Store Street Police Station was packed. Friday night was a busy one for the Gardai. Black Marias were lining up to spew out the scum of the night into the station. Agnes made her way past groping drunks and screaming derelicts to the reception area. There was a young policeman manning the desk. As Agnes approached, he was writing in a huge book.

“Excuse me, please,” Agnes called to him over the din.

He didn’t look up from his work. “What?” he asked the book.

“I’m trying to find my sister,” she said.

The young officer looked up. As was usual, Agnes was pretty enough to get his full attention. He smiled. “Well, if she’s anything as pretty as you, we should have no problem finding her.” He opened his book again and prepared to take notes. “Now, when did you see her last?” he asked.

Agnes cut to the chase. “She’s here. Well, I think she is.”

“Here?” The Garda looked up slowly. “What is she doing here?” He was not as interested in Agnes now.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s the name?” He lifted the charge roster.

“Reddin. Dolly Reddin.” Agnes tried to read the list upside down, but couldn’t. The young Garda ran his finger down the list. Then stopped.

“She’s here all right. She’s a burglar, then?”

“What? Burglar? Oh Christ, I’ll kill her!” Agnes began to sob. “Can I see her?” she asked.

Dolly looked so scared, sitting in the interview room alone. Agnes looked in at her through the wired glass window in the door. Dolly’s eyes were red from crying, and she was shaking.

“Five minutes. You can see her in the morning, then, in court. She’s up at ten-thirty a.m.,” the policeman said. Then he opened the door. When she entered, Dolly ran to her and threw her arms about her.

“Oh, Agnes, I’m afraid.”

Dolly was shocked when Agnes pushed her away. “You little bitch! How could you?” Agnes screamed. “Leaving Mammy alone is bad enough, but back to your old tricks with your scumbag friends!” Agnes was furious.

“I didn’t do anything!” Dolly protested.

But Agnes slapped her across the face. “Don’t lie to me!” Dolly began to cry softly. She sat back down in the chair and just stared at the floor, rocking back and forth. Agnes knocked on the door to be let out of the room.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” Dolly said to her older sister’s back. Agnes left. She cried all the way home.

Nellie Nugent did not ask, but she could tell that there was something wrong with Agnes. When Nellie arrived at the stall with the pram full of produce, Agnes had virtually dumped it onto the stall, rather than her usual placing of each different item like a sculptor. She let her work on. If Agnes had something to say, Nellie was certain she would say it when she needed to.

Nellie got her result at about 9 a.m. Agnes approached her nervously.

“Mrs. Nugent, can I take some of the morning off?” she asked.

“For what?” Nellie asked, sending Agnes into a flood of tears. Nellie got a start at this reaction. She went to Agnes and held her by the shoulders.

“Christ Almighty, what’s wrong, child?” she asked. Agnes wriggled out of Nellie’s grip, but instead of pulling away, she put her arms around the big woman’s waist and buried her head in Nellie’s huge bosom. Nellie was startled by this and didn’t know what to do. She stood there with Agnes gripping on to her, and she with her arms wide like a Christ on the crucifix.

“Pull yourself together, young wan!” Nellie admonished her. But Agnes just cried. Slowly Nellie closed her arms and hugged the young girl. Then she began to pat the child on the back, saying, “There, there, there.” Agnes calmed. Nellie’s voice and the patting of her back made her feel protected. Agnes would learn to do this to calm anyone she had crying in her own arms for the rest of her life. When she was calm, Nellie sat Agnes down and made her tell the whole story.

When she had finished the telling, Nellie asked, “What makes you think that she did do anything?”

Agnes was aghast at the question. “She’s on probation, she’s done it before, and anyway the police don’t make that kind of mistake.”

Nellie raised an eyebrow at this last part. “Yes, they do,” she asserted. “And right now what your sister needs more than anything is for
you
to believe her.”

“Do you think they could be wrong, really?” Agnes asked.

“The chances of somebody being innocent increase in direct proportion to the amount of people trying to prove them guilty,” Nellie recited the longest sentence Agnes had ever heard her utter. Agnes hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. It showed in her face. Nellie thought of explaining, then changed her mind. “What time is the court case?” she asked.

“Half past ten. Do you mind if I go?” Agnes asked.

“I’ll get Mrs. Delany to mind our stall. We’ll both go down there.” Nellie stood. She ran her hand over Agnes’ head and went across the street to make the arrangements. The use of the phrase “our stall” was not lost on Agnes.

The children’s court was packed. It was half an hour before Dolly was ushered in from the holding room. Agnes and Nellie were about halfway down the stuffed courtroom.

“Dolly!” Agnes cried to her sister. Dolly looked around but did not see her. Agnes began to push her way to the front of the room, all the while calling Dolly’s name. She fell and still did not stop, crawling now on her hands and knees. She moved between legs, and when she saw a gap she made for it and stood, calling loudly, “DOLLY!” Where she stood she was just two feet from her sister. Dolly looked terrible. She looked Agnes in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, Agnes,” she said softly.

“No. I’m sorry, Dolly. I believe you, I do, I believe you!” Agnes cried.

“Really?”

“Really! I believe you!” They made to hug, but Dolly was tugged away to stand before the judge.

What followed was wrong, all wrong. Not just wrong in the moral sense but incorrect. Dolly was charged with a burglary that took place at 10:15 p.m. the previous Wednesday. The police had caught two girls, and those girls had given the names of three other girls that they said were involved. Dolly’s name was on that list.

“It couldn’t have been her,” Agnes called from the courtroom floor. The judge asked who had spoken, and Agnes raised her hand.

“It couldn’t have been Dolly; she was with me. My friend was teaching me to dance, and Dolly was there, with us.” Agnes was thrilled. Nellie was right, policemen do make mistakes.

“And who are you?” the judge asked Agnes.

“I’m Agnes Reddin. I’m her sister,” Agnes stated proudly. Agnes was about to discover that not only do policemen make mistakes, so do judges.

“Her sister? Her sister? Well, that evidence is about as reliable as a cardboard boat in a storm!” This drew a laugh from the policemen and lawyers gathered in the room.

Nellie spoke up. “The other girl is a witness too. Marion, Marion Delany,” she called out.

Agnes turned and mouthed “Thanks” to her, then turned to the judge. “I’ll go and get Marion. She can be here in ten minutes!” Agnes promised. The judge was not impressed.

“If you think now that I am going to hold up the proceedings of this court just so as you can go and get one of your guttersnipe friends to lie for you, you have another think coming! Any previous?” He turned to the Garda.

“She’s on probation, Your Honor, three years,” the Garda offered.

“For what?” the judge asked.

“Burglary,” the Garda said.

“Aha!” the judge exclaimed. “I knew it! Well, now, I’m the man to teach you a lesson!” He put on some reading glasses and began writing, then pronounced sentence. “Young lady, you are to be placed into an institution of the state at the pleasure of the Minister for Justice.” He banged his gavel. “Next,” he called, and Dolly was taken away.

Nellie was finding it difficult to explain “the Minister’s Pleasure” to Agnes.

“Until she is eighteen, is it?” Agnes asked. Nellie shook her head.

“Could be shorter, or longer. Her case will come up for review every so often. If the Minister is having a good day she could be out,” Nellie explained.

“And if he is having a bad day?” Agnes asked.

Nellie shrugged. “Who knows?”

“But she’s only
thirteen!
” Agnes began to sob loudly.

Nellie hugged her. “There, there, there,” she whispered, as she brushed her hand over Agnes’ dark mane.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dolly was incarcerated in St. Mary’s Home for Delinquent Girls, in Oldgrange, just outside Dublin. It was two hours by bus each way to visit, and Agnes was allowed just half an hour with her sister per week. In the six months since Dolly had been placed there, Agnes did not miss one Sunday. Marion would accompany Agnes on the bus trip, but would not be allowed to visit Dolly. It pained Agnes to watch Dolly deteriorate. She was getting a hard time in there, but refused to waste any of the half-hour they had together talking about it.

This was to change a little for the better, though, after a chat with Nellie on Monday. Agnes and Nellie were working the stall, and there was a lull in the business.

“How’s your sister getting on?” Nellie asked. Agnes told Nellie how Dolly was looking awful and how worried she was about her. Nellie listened and told Agnes not to worry, that her sister would settle down. It didn’t work. Agnes was still worried.

“Jesus, I think I’ll head off early, young wan, I’m not feeling the best.” Nellie did not look the best either. She had been sick for some time but refused to attend a doctor. “Don’t bother me, young wan, with those fuckin’ quacks!” is all Nellie would say each time Agnes suggested it.

“Do you want me to finish the day?” Agnes asked.

“No. Just wrap up the stall.” Nellie was putting her coat on. She still had not let Agnes sell. Even after three years. Agnes didn’t show her disappointment. She wrapped the stall and, as it was only one o’clock in the afternoon, joined Marion at her stall for the rest of the day.

The following Sunday, Agnes was stopped at the gate of St. Mary’s on her way in to visit Dolly.