Other families have a mother. We had a pet wishhobbler that liked to stretch out in front of the fire. She would quite happily lie there all day. Providing Da took her a good long run at night, that is. She loved running. And she could be a bit of a crazy berth if she didn't get out at night: vicious and bad tempered. She terrified the neighbours and curdled the milk; shattered furniture and punched cavernous holes in walls.

     Standing on all fours, her solid square forehead was level with mine. Each of the four paws was as wide as my waist. She had to strain to get her huge body through the door.

     There wasn't a leash in the world could hold her.

     The wishhobbler was a souvenir from Da's time fighting for the king. She had been badly injured in some sort of accident; her Collision, Da called it. He rescued her and brought her home. We called her Ma, which Da said was short for Malcontent Headbanger (because she was never happy or content). Da wasn't any good at thinking up names. He called me Spinworthie Turec after a horse in some book. Spinworthie Turec mal Arthreign. What sort of name was that for a girl? I cut it down to Spin.

     Ma. It's embarrassing to admit to you, but when I was smaller I did actually think she was our mother. See, Da had taught her to string a few sentences together. And he covered most of her rusty fur with a long dress and hat to make her seem less strange. People would ask, 'How's your Ma this weather?' And I'd say, 'Oh, she's fine; still baying at the moon.'

     Living with Ma was never easy, but I won't forget the weekend of the Wearypenn Race. The Race is very important where I come from. People don't take kindly to wishhobblers deciding they're going to win it. For the Race is not what you would expect. And the Racers, as we discovered, are not the kind of people it is wise to upset.

     It started on the day before the Race. I remember being sick early Saturday morning. At the time I thought it was nothing more than an upset stomach. Da was there in an instant; giving me a hug and cleaning it up. Ma didn't stir. But as soon as half five came, she was wide awake and roaring at me to get up. She hadn't had a run for nearly a week and her mood was foul.

     I swayed slightly on the cold floorboards; my eyes stinging and brain buzzing. Until recently I'd had no idea what half five even looked like. It's kind of ugly with spots. Behind me, my sisters and brothers stirred in their sleep; filling out the space I'd left in the bed. Their quiet breathing pointed out that life wasn't meant to be lived at this hour. I knew it; I didn't argue. The warmth of the blankets drew me back down. Just a moment on the pillow; no need to sleep. A sweet moment with my eyes closed and everything would be all right.

     With a sudden sharp pain in the back of my neck I was flying towards the ceiling. 'Said you wake.' One warm wishhobbler paw held me by my nightshirt. 'Wake.'

     'I am a-w-w-w' - my teeth rattled together as Ma shook me wildly - 'a-w-w-w-ake.'

     The shaking stopped abruptly. Her fat eyebrows lowered heavily in confusion. She swung me closer until we were eye to dark, bloodshot eye. Her hot breath flowed over me. 'What's wiwiwiwake? It's rude?'

     'No,' I gasped. I was still dangling some way off the ground. My night-shirt collar was digging hard into my throat.

     'What? Can't hear. Sleeping?' The folds of fat on her cheeks and chins wobbled madly as she spoke, upsetting the fleas that lived in her fur. Her grip tightened, catching my hair and pulling my head back. Her thick claws dug into my neck. 'I you wake.' She hobbled to the window on her other three paws. She nudged it open with her snout and threw me out into the cold morning air. 'Wake wake.'

     Sadly, we live on the fourth floor.

     But fortunately our flat faces onto the small courtyard where the dung hill collects. I sank waist deep into the soft mess.

     Well, I was awake now.

     I clambered free and spent a few minutes trying to get the stuff out my hair. There were already a number of people about, queuing for the shoghouse. But I landed in the dung hill so often, nobody seemed to notice anymore. I needed the shoghouse myself, but it looked a long wait this morning. There's only one shoghouse for each tenement block. It's murder when you wake up in the middle of the night desperate to go and have to come all the way down here in the dark.

     I nipped in the entrance to our tenement and up the stone stairs. There are four flats on each floor and we're on the top. Da was busy piling coal into the range when I got in. Ma was nuzzling into a plate of cold custard.

     Da looked up and gave me a huge grin. I used to think he was the cheeriest da in all the world; he never stops smiling. The truth is, his teeth are so big, he can't help it. I suspect he stole them from a horse.

     He's quite a small man, not much taller than me. Although his hair hangs to his shoulders, the top of his head is a little bald, making him look like a half-sheared sheep. His nose is square and his eyes droopy and sad. He's rather shy and not sure how to talk to most people. He'll look at his feet and mumble, as though afraid you'll laugh, get bored or think what he's saying is nonsense. How he thought he could handle Ma, I've no idea. Perhaps she looked cute as a pup or a cub or whatever.

     'Morning,' Da said. 'The water's in the jug.'

     Before going to bed each night, Da goes down to the tap in the wall beside the shoghouse. He fills a jug of water for us to get washed in the morning. Like everyone else's, our flat has only one room. There's Da's bed along the wall by the door, and ours on the opposite wall. In between there's a small table by the windows. Across from it is the range where we do all the cooking and in which the fire burns. So we wash in the corner and it's usually a quick affair. What with the dung heap, I could have done with a proper scrubbing. But that involves filling the kettle several times downstairs, boiling it on the range and emptying the water into the tub. And of course, everyone takes turns in the bath to make good use of the water. So I did the best I could. Then I pulled on yesterday's skirt and pullover and waited for Da. There was no chance of breakfast for us; we couldn't afford it. But there was always something for Ma.

     She cleared her throat and looked at Da. Ma's eyes were in the sides of her head, so she had to turn round at a funny angle to look at you. Her eyebrows clamped down in concentration. 'Want don't you ...' The growls came out slowly, unsure. 'And go ... and ...' She twisted round to catch my eye. 'Need another word.'

     It was easy to guess what she was saying. She had being saying it just about every morning this week. 'Work. You don't want him to go to work today.'

     She swung back to Da, forcing her fleas to make a mad dash to keep up with their home. 'You don't want him to go to work today.'

     He looked up nervously from lighting the range. 'Don't you?'

     'Need and try Race.' She rattled her nails on the floorboards. 'Need another word.'

     'You want him to take you a practice run for the Race. You need to get into training.'

     Ma nodded. 'What she said.'

     Da crept to his feet. 'Well, um, you don't really need to practice.'

     'Think win?'

     'The thing, um, is ...' He shuffled back a few steps for safety. 'They won't let you enter the Race.'

     Ma's fur bristled. 'Ask?'

     He wriggled his fingers anxiously. 'No.'

     Three rats poked their noses out from behind the skirting board.

     'Said ask!' Ma's nostrils flared, lifting the fur around her mouth, revealing yellow teeth. She flicked her claw, sending her bowl flying across the room onto Da's head. The rats watched as custard slid down his face and onto the floor. They scurried towards it and filled their bellies; luckier than me then.

     Ma bounded into Da's bed and buried herself under the covers. 'Said ask,' came her muffled voice.

     Da glanced worriedly at the clock. It didn't tick anymore because Ma had cooked the insides last week. 'We'll need to go soon,' he whispered to me as he sneaked over to the bed. Cautiously he stretched out an arm to pat the mountain under the covers. 'There's no point in me, er, asking the Racers. They won't let you enter.' Getting braver, he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. 'It's a funny sort of race, you see. You, um, wouldn't be able to win it.'

     Ma flew from under the covers, sending Da tumbling through the air. He bounced off the wall. And then she was on him, pinning his shoulders to the floor.

     'Win any and race!' she roared.

     My youngest sister, Sias, briefly opened her eyes. The others didn't stir; they'd long ago learned to sleep through morning chaos.

     'Win any and race.'

     'Not this one,' whispered Da hoarsely. 'I've, um, an idea. It's Saturday. I finish work at twelve. After Spin and I have done the shopping, why don't we go a run? And me and you can race Spin. And you can have some toffee.' He awkwardly managed to raise a hand. It shook as he stroked Ma's fur. 'Promise.'

     'Didn't and go run last and night. Promise.'

     'I was too tired. It's a long day in the machine houses. And hard work.' Ma opened her mouth. 'Very noisy too.'

     She brought her snout close to his. 'Tried wake you.'

     A tiny glimmer of panic settled in his eyes. 'Did you? I must, gosh, have been so tired I didn't notice.'

     'And must have,' she howled. 'Tried and waking you and with fork!'

     I was at the table lacing up my boots. At the memory of how she'd once woken me with a fork, a boot slipped out of my hands. They both turned around as it clattered onto the bare floor, Ma twisting her head round to fix her gaze on me.

     'What's and that for? Always here,' Ma demanded.

     'It's one of the children and it lives here.'

     Releasing Da, she lumbered dangerously towards me. The dark fur rippled over her muscles. 'Ssshhh! And last night not asleep.'

     Da grabbed his long hair in fear. 'Not after you started using the fork, no. But I was too tired to go running.'

     Ma sat in front of the door, completely blocking it. 'Have jolly and rest now.'

     'But I need to go to work. The foreman says if I miss another ...'

     'Have jolly and rest. Then and run ...' She looked at me. 'Practice?'

     I finished my boots. 'What she said.'

     As Da got back to his feet, I climbed under his bed and signalled him to follow.

     He pulled on his coat and grabbed the brown paper bag that held his lunch. 'Very well. I will have a rest. I'm going back to bed.' He lay still for a moment, watching Ma from the corner of his eye. Then, as soon as she turned her head away, he rolled off the edge nearest the wall. He crawled over beside me. 'What are we doing down here?'

     I pointed to the hole in the floor. It had been there when we moved in. The landlady claimed it wasn't dangerous, so long as no one fell down it.

     Da looked at me. 'What do you suggest?'

     'We escape through the hole.'

     'But we have neighbours down there. It would be a bit rude. They could be having their breakfast.'

     'If you want to lose your job ...'

     'I suppose ...' He poked his head through the hole.

     'Wrong way. Feet first.'

     'No, no. Head first. That way we can excuse ourselves before we're in. Hold my feet.'

     I jerked in fright as Ma's claws dug through my socks and I accidentally let him go. She dragged me out from under the bed and lifted me by the neck. I winced as her claws grazed the same scratches they had made earlier. They wrenched a fresh fistful of hairs from my head.

     'Where is he?' she demanded.

     I ignored the thump as he landed downstairs. 'I don't know. He just vanished. Maybe he's not been eating enough.'

     She threw me out the way and tried to squeeze under the bed, shoving and grunting with effort, lifting the heavy iron legs off the floor. I made for the door and ran down to the next landing. I was just in time to see Da, forcibly removed by the people below us, rolling down the next flight of stairs.

     I shook my head as I joined him on the ground floor. 'Nice try. But I think you'll find leaving by the window is still the quickest.'

     From upstairs came the sound of floorboards snapping. 'I'll take your word for it,' Da shrieked as we hurtled outside.

© Francis O'Dowd 2001