Payday

1899.

Like most of the townhouses in the area, the best days of 27 Mountjoy Square are behind it. Built in the previous century to house one of the ascendancy families of Dublin (who had long since departed for more fashionable areas south of the Liffey), it was now home to no less than eight families of Dublin’s rapidly expanding working class. At the top of the building, in a single room which would have once been occupied by a servant or two, lived Frank and Nora O’Driscoll along with their seven children.

When work was available, Frank earned his living as a casual labourer in the dockyards in Ringsend. Nora maintained the home: she made a point of keeping it in good order, always saying that you could eat your dinner off the floors she kept them so clean. All day long she would be up and down the eight flights of stairs in the house, carrying water by the bucketful. Her forearms and elbows were perpetually red raw from being submerged in water and carbolic soap for most of the day.

Jimmy, the couple’s third-born son but the eldest still alive, was a quietly observant child. His pensive demeanour meant he was labelled a dreamer by his teachers at school, and often he got whipped for staring out the window during class. Still, he picked up on things his younger brothers and sisters didn’t. He could always tell, for example, when his da hadn’t been given a shift at the docks. Frank would still come home at the usual time, but there’d be an air of defeat about him and the family would be silent around the dinner table that night. Too many of those days in a row and they’d be pawning their clothes and trekking out to scavenge wood because they couldn’t afford turf for the fire.

Jimmy knew from when he was young that he would have to contribute, and at the age of 11 he left school for the world of work. At that point he didn’t know much beyond his twelve times tables and how to spell his name, but if there was any more to be learned in school then the Christian Brothers didn’t seem much interested in teaching it.

The first day he was to go down to the dockyards with his da, his mother was fussing over him the whole morning, patting down his hair and rubbing his face clean.

“Would you leave the child alone, Nora?” said Frank, nodding sideward and winking at Jimmy.

Nora, seeming not to hear, rested her hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and looked at him intently; there were tears in her eyes. “Me little man, all dressed up for work.” She flashed a stern look at Frank. “You’re to take good care of him, you hear? If anything happens I’ll clip the ear off you.”

Frank laughed in response. “Jaysus, come on Jimmy. Before I’m murdered.”

The whole journey over Jimmy had a lump in the base of his stomach, but still he was excited at the prospect of earning his place in the house and proving he was a grown man. He knew well how much it would mean for the family to be bringing in some extra money. He thought back to some of the better times, when his da was in steady work. There’d be meat in the stew every night and turf for the fire. One time, as a surprise, his da had even brought home a pound of chocolate from some fancy shop on the south side. It was so long ago now that Jimmy couldn’t remember the taste of the chocolate, but he could still vividly remember the way his mam’s face lit up when his Da proudly laid the foil-wrapped bar on the table. Jimmy looked forward to making his mam happy like that again.

When they got to the dockyard, Frank had a word with the foreman and beckoned Jimmy to come over. “This is Raymond. You’ll be working for him today”.

Jimmy shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Raymond regarded Jimmy for a second before breaking into a smile. “Jaysus Frank, he’s the spit of you.” He slapped Jimmy on the shoulder. “Come on, there’s work to be done”.

Frank hung back. “Are you not coming with us, Da?” said Jimmy.

“Nah Jimmy, I’ll be over on the other dock. You know where to find me”.

The work itself turned out to be straightforward enough; all they were doing was unloading sacks of grain on to a cart over and over. At first Raymond barked orders at him, but as Jimmy got a handle on what he was supposed to do, he found he could let his mind wander. When it came to the end of their shift, he was surprised at how quickly the time had passed.

Raymond winked at Jimmy when he handed him his pay. “It won’t always be this easy you know. It was a small enough cargo”. Jimmy looked down and saw that Raymond had been handed two shillings, the most he had ever held in his own hands.

He went to find his da but he was still working. “You finished already?” Frank said. “Did you get your pay?”

“I did, da. Two shillings”.

“Handy enough. Well go on, off with you. No use hanging around here”.

And so Jimmy found he was at a loss for something to do and it was only mid-afternoon. With no particular aim in mind he strolled east, making his way along the quays and towards the city centre. Eventually he found himself on Grafton Street. He was rarely over this part of town and he was struck by the sea of colours and the sound of commerce around him. He meandered through the crowds, gazing into the shops that lined the street. He was almost at Stephen’s Green corner when one of the window displays caught his attention. It was an assortment of cakes the like of which he had never seen before. The centrepiece was a layered chocolate cake, with pristine white icing and decorated with half-cherries arranged in a circular pattern on top. Over the shop front, spelled in gilded letters, was the name “Hogarth and Son’s Artisanal Bakery”.

When Jimmy entered the shop, the man behind the counter was engaged in idle chatter with a young lady. He had a waxed moustache and wore a bottle-green apron. It took a few attempts to get his attention.

“What can I do for you?” he said finally, evidently annoyed at being interrupted.

“How much is the cake in the window, mister?”.

“Expensive enough,” replied the man curtly, looking Jimmy up and down.

“Is this enough,” said Jimmy, brandishing the two shillings.

The man looked down at the money and then back up at Jimmy. “It’ll buy you a slice anyway”.

Jimmy took great care taking the package home. By the time he got back to the house it was dark. His father was already home and building the fire and his mam was laying the younger children to sleep.

“Where have you been?” she whispered. “Sure your dinner’s gone cold”.

“I got you a present, mam,” Jimmy responded cheerfully.

“A present?” She looked down at the package in Jimmy’s hand. “Where’s your pay?”

Jimmy’s smile faded when he saw the worried look on his mam’s face.

Frank had stopped tending the fire. “A present?” he asked.

“Cake, da”.

“How much did that cost?”

Jimmy didn’t answer.

“You didn’t spend all your pay on that, did you?

Jimmy stared at the skirting board.

“When your brothers and sisters are going hungry?”

“Ah Frank, he meant well,” his mam said in a pleading tone.

Frank came up to Jimmy, so close that his nose was only an inch from his son’s face. “Where’s your pay, son?”

“I spent it, da”, Jimmy reply, his voice tapering into a whimper.

His da was breathing heavily through his nose now as he fumbled with his belt. He grabbed Jimmy by the back of his shirt and pulled him over his knee. A moment later Jimmy felt the stinging sensation of the leather against his side. When it was done, the flogging left dark purple bands of bruised flesh along his outer thigh that took days to fade. The next day he had a slight limp as he walked down to the dockyards. They never talked about the incident again, but from then on Jimmy duly turned his wages in to his mam at the end of every shift.

Raymond hadn’t lied when he said Jimmy’s first shift was an easy one. It was a few months later by the time Jimmy finished work before 9 O’Clock again. It was December at that point and the city was draped with snow. He made his way over to Hogarth and Son’s again, holding a brick in his pocket which he had picked up from a dilapidated building along the way. There was a Christmas display in the window now, with a plum pudding topped with a snowman as the centrepiece of the display. Jimmy felt a jolt of anger like white hot metal in his belly, and with all his strength he hurled the brick through the window and smashed the display to pieces.