Free Polly's Angel by Katie Flynn

‘Mammy had given up all hopes of another baby before I was born, so I were a lovely surprise and now they’ve got me, they want to see I’m brought up right. Which is why they’re sendin’ me to the convent school, though I dare say there’s a lot of t’ings they’d rather do wit’ the fee money.’
    â€˜I went to the national school; you don’t have to pay there,’ Tad said. ‘Now me brothers go there. Ain’t all schools the same, then?’
    But he knew they weren’t, not really. Polly had gone to private school, though she had grumbled about her eckers and the nuns just as much as Tad’s sisters, who went to the free school, had done. But Angela was shrugging.
    â€˜I don’t think it matters. I’m not clever, like some, but I keep me end up. I get good enough marks. And Mammy and Daddy think I’ll get a good job when I leave, because I’ve been to private school.’
    Tad nodded gloomily. He remembered Polly saying something of the sort now that he thought back. ‘Where’s your school, then, Angie? Miles away?’
    â€˜Well, I usually take a tram,’ Angela said vaguely. ‘I suppose I could walk, but it ’ud take me a while. I’m glad you came callin’, Tad. I don’t know hardly anyone in Dublin yet . . . now I know you!’
    â€˜That’s the idea. We’ll be pals, shall we?’ Tad asked eagerly. ‘There’s all sorts to do in Dublin when there’s two of you. Does your mammy give you money for the tuppenny rush at the cinema? I go to the Tiv, on Francis Street; I do love Sat’day flickers.’
    â€˜I do too,’ Angela said. ‘Me mammy used to give me a Peggy’s leg or an ounce of rainbow caramels of a Sat’day, so’s I don’t fade away before me dinner, and I used to see the show and then go round to me cousin Kitty’s, an’ play Piggy Bed or Shop or skippin’ until it were time for tea. But here . . . well, I don’t know folk yet.’
    Tad understood this completely. If you went to the free school you would meet your pals everywhere, but the small private schools took in children from a much wider area and the chances were that you’d not have a schoolfellow living within two or three streets of you. And Angie and her family hadn’t been living in Swift’s Alley for long enough to get to know people there, either.
    As for Angela finding out about Tad, it wasn’t hard to guess most of it once you had visited his home. Small and grubby brothers and sisters had greeted him as he crossed the courtyard and climbed the stairs, and in the kitchen, where the family lived, his sister Annie had been scrubbing a pan of potatoes for their tea whilst Biddy, who was getting to an age when she could be helpful, had been trying to chop cabbage with a knife which was rather too large for her to handle.
    â€˜Lemme do that,’ Tad said, taking the knife. He put the screw of tea and the brown paper bag of biscuits down on the scrubbed wooden table and turned to Annie. ‘Biddy’s not old enough to use a knife, alanna. Don’t let her chop t’ings or she’ll be destroyin’ her fingers entirely, so she will.’ He saw his small sisters staring and stopped chopping cabbage for a moment to wave the knife towards his companion. ‘Oh, Ann, this is me pal Angela Machin, what lives in Swift’s Alley, in the O’Bradys’ old place. Angie, the big ’un with the spuds is Annie an’ the other’s our Biddy. They’s two of me sisters.’ He finished chopping the cabbage, then headed for the door again. ‘I’m just goin’ to show Angie our tree, an’ our fungus,’ he added, and picked up a stub of candle and lit it from the lamp.
    The boys’ room was further along the landing and on the opposite side. It was a tiny room, only about four feet wide