by Mary Jaine
"Eat it all up now, nom-nom-nom!" she grinned, and I had to laugh even though my stomach ached, it was funny, and no-one was angry with me, and it felt wonderful. I finished the soup, and she wiped my mouth.
"That's all for now, rest a little and you can have some more, let's just wait and see if this comes up too."
At last it was all gone, there was a warm, comfortable glow in my stomach, for the first time in what felt like the longest time I'd had a hot, satisfying meal, and I was warmed through for the first time in a very long time.
*
I woke with a start, confused and disoriented for a second, unable to place where I was, then the world spun for a second and memory flowed back into place; I was in London, I was in Ayesha Shahida's house, and I had two sisters...
"Hello, sleepyhead!" murmured a soft voice, and I spun around, then spun back as I realised I had no clothes on and the quilt had nearly slipped off me and onto the floor.
Clutching the only covering I had, I peered at the figure only vaguely visible in the gloom, just a shadow in the armchair, but I recognised the voice; it was Yasmin.
"My clothes..." I stammered, and she giggled happily at my blushes.
"Don't worry, mummy undressed you, not me or Shari, and we even turned our backs, so there!"
"Where...?" I asked helplessly, and she laughed again.
"Mummy put your clothes through the washer, you need clean clothes, and when you're ready, you can have a shower, because, I have to be honest, you kind of need one! In the meantime, how are you feeling?"
I was brought up short; how did I feel?
"Tired, weak, confused, embarrassed, hungry, I could go on..."
Yasmin flicked on the lamp and looked me over.
"You should feel hungry; you've been out like a light for, let me see, almost sixteen hours, you must have been exhausted..."
I was stunned; I'd slept sixteen hours? It didn't seem possible, but then the darkness, the ache in my limbs from lying in one position for hours on end, and the hunger, of course.
"It's almost five in the morning, mummy, Shari and I have been taking turns watching you; you had mummy really worried, you know! Oh, and she's sorry for the way she went off at you; she probably won't say anything, but she's really feeling guilty about the whole thing, you weren't to know, Shari too, she kind of feels rough about going berserk at you like that, all those death-threats, she's not really like that at all, so let her apologise when she gets to it, she didn't know either. We all owe you an apology; you didn't deserve any of that, so they'll probably be a bit nicer to you; try and enjoy it! One thing, though, Richard; we all saw how thin you are; don't you ever eat anything?"
I felt my face burning as I flushed; the fact is, Bobby and I never had enough to eat; with only him working, on an ad-hoc contract on minimum wage, there were some weeks where our one meal of the day was a can of soup between us and a couple of slices of bread, it was barely enough to keep body and soul together, but what could we do? I was beginning to understand that Dad had done this to us; he'd left us in this mess, and we had no way out.
Yasmin looked closely at me.
"You don't, do you? You poor guy, no wonder you got so sick, you must be really just scraping by if a sandwich was too much to handle. I'm sorry, Richard, I didn't realise. Would you like some more soup? I can get it in a jiffy, you just wait there, oh yeah, you're bare-arsed naked, aren't you, you've got to!"
She giggled as she left the room, leaving me there naked, wrapped in a quilt, wondering what I was going to do next. Hopefully I'd feel better soon, I'd get my clothes back, and I could comb myself out of these people's hair and find a way to get back home again; kind as they were being, given what had gone before, which I still didn't properly understand, I didn't belong here, and I realised I couldn't impose on their good graces very much longer; Yasmin said they weren't mad at me any longer, I wondered how long that would last if I continued to hang around...
The door opened and Yasmin came back carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, some bread, a banana, and a bowl of what looked like fruit chunks in syrup. Everything smelled wonderful, the soup, the warm, crusty bread, the sweet smell of the fruit, and Yasmin grinned as she put it on my lap.
"Eat up; don't let it get cold again!"
I set to with a will; the soup was as delicious as before, dipping the bread in it was delectable, and before I knew it I'd polished the bowl clean. Yasmin took the empty bowl away and nudged the bowl of fruit at me.
"Try it, Richard, it's good for you, you'll like it..." and I did; I'd never eaten anything like it; even the banana was something I only had vague memories of eating when I was much younger. When dad was still with us we'd never been given anything like any of these things before; when I thought about it, I realised that even with all his money, dad had drastically cut corners and pinched pennies anyway; I'm sure he could have afforded simple, tasty food and even simpler treats like this, he'd just never done it, because he was a grasping cheapskate; it had taken strangers to show me what I'd been missing all along, simple things that other people probably just took for granted.
I slumped back, stomach full and body fully relaxed for the first time in I don't know how long, tension I wasn't even aware of, that had been a part of me for so long it had become normal, had finally been sponged away. Yasmin patted my knee and took the tray away.
"Get some rest, Richard, mummy will want to talk to you in the morning, it's late...or really, really early; either way, you're tired, we'll all talk in the morning. Goodnight...big brother!"
"...Ricky..." I murmured, and she stopped and looked back at me. "What say...?" she grinned, and I repeated myself, a little louder.
"Ricky, please, call me Ricky..." and she nodded. "Ricky it is, gotcha; don't go 'way now!"
*
Daylight in my eyes woke me, a moment spent wondering where I was, then memory and realisation put me straight. I stretched luxuriously, feeling marvellously rested and at peace, considering the day was going to get worse, because hadn't Ayesha warned me? So I luxuriated in my one moment of complete peace, letting the apprehension wait until I was ready to deal with it.
"Good morning, how are you feeling?" said a soft voice, and I looked around to see Ayesha smiling at me. "How old are you, Richard? Because when you're sleeping, you look so young, but you have to be, what, nearly twenty, am I right?"
"Almost nineteen," I replied, "and Bobby's nearly twenty; there's only a year between us. And please, call me Rick, or Ricky, or Ritchie; no-one ever called me Richard."
Ayesha came to her feet, leaning on her cane, and indicated a bathrobe and towels and my clothes folded neatly on the other armchair.
"Go and get a shower, you know where the bathroom is, there's some disposable razors and toothbrushes in the cabinet, then come down and we'll have some breakfast together, just like family..." She grinned when she said it, to defuse any sting I might have felt at her words.
"Yasmin's not here, she had to go to school and finish up a few odds and ends after her finals, and Shari's down at the office, taking care of some things for me, so it's just you and me this morning, so we'll have that talk when you're done. Go on now; I'll be here when you come back down."
*
After the best, hottest, most luxurious shower I'd ever had, properly shaved, brushed, and combed, and dressed in my freshly laundered and pressed, clean-smelling clothes, I made my way back down to the sitting room.
"In here, Ricky," I heard her call, and I followed her voice into the dining room, where something smelled delicious. Ayesha was busy laying the table and she stopped dead, dropping the napkin she was holding as she stared at me.
"My God, you look just like, just like your...just like..." she stammered, while I stared at her in puzzlement; what had I done now, and what the hell was she talking about?
"I'm sorry...?" I began, and she flushed, her face reddening.
"It's nothing, I'm sorry, Rich...sorry, Ricky, for one second the
re you looked just like...never mind, breakfast is ready, please, sit, eat, don't let it get cold."
Hot food, hot, tasty food, food like I'd never had before was a dazzling experience; from my perspective now, when I look back on how my life turned, it was simple food, the kind of breakfast millions of people probably have every day of their lives, but for me, it was a revelation; grilled bacon, fried eggs, sausage, grilled tomatoes, hot toast with butter running through it, nothing special or gourmet, but to me, compared to how I'd been living, it was a magical feast, the best, most wonderful things I'd ever eaten.
"Eat as much as you want, Ricky, then we'll talk, while Yasmin and Shereen are away; right now, I don't need Shari's interruptions, and I don't want Yasmin hearing what I have to say, so eat up and we'll get this over with, then you can decide what you want to do next, OK?"
I didn't need telling twice, and I pitched in with a will, and no matter how much I ate, there was always more. When I finally pushed my plate away I was stuffed full, happy and satisfied in a way I'd never been before; there's a world of difference between getting-by on mediocre grub you eat just to keep yourself alive, and filling up with simple, tasty food that satisfies like nothing ever did before, and I felt strong, together, fit, and ready to fight lions, which something told me I was about to do.
*
Breakfast over and cleared away, Ayesha told me to go wait for her in the sitting room. When she joined me, her mood had changed; during breakfast she'd been friendly, helpful, polite, chatty, even, and had gone to great pains to put me at my ease. Now she looked stern, grim, almost.
"Ricky," she began, "I want you to understand that none of this reflects on you, do you understand? Your family and mine have a lot of history together, none of it good, and I still feel anger, so much anger, but you must remember, none of this is your fault; if you didn't need to know this I wouldn't tell you, but you need to know the truth, and that...creature, your father, will never be able to tell you, or even admit to any of it. I want you to know that I won't enjoy any of this, do you understand? I hardly know you, but what I've seen makes me hope that things will change, that maybe you will make the difference; remember, that Richard Davies, remember that and hold on to it!"
My throat was dry; suddenly I didn't want to be here, but I knew I had to be; too many secrets and lies had surrounded me for too long, I needed to clear it all away so I could be normal, perhaps with my new family to be there for me. I nodded at her, telling her I was ready to do this.
"Do you remember yesterday, when I showed you my back? That I told you your father did that to me?" I nodded, and she kept going.
"He did that to me because he could; he did it to your brother, he did it to Nicky's mother, and he did it to Barbara, your poor mother. Robert Davis stole everything I had, he took every last thing I owned, he beat me, he raped me countless times, and he destroyed everything I had, my place in my family, my business everything. And why? Because he wanted what I had, that was the only reason he needed. Your father was a sadistic criminal, a true psychopath, why should he work when he could just take, so he took, and he took, and he took!"
Her eyes were hard and bitter, glistening rocks that stared into my soul, and I couldn't look away.
"If all he wanted were just things, well and good; but that wasn't enough; he wanted to own me, for me to know I was his slave, his little chilli-cracker plaything to use and mistreat whenever he pleased, and that's all I was to him. When he found out I was pregnant with Shereen he beat me so badly he nearly killed me; children with me wasn't part of his plan, I was just there to be used while he took my business, stole my money, gambled and lost my property, everything I'd worked and saved for. He bankrupted my parents and made them disown me, he destroyed my name in our community and any chance for marriage and a family of my own. He took all that away."
Something she'd just said struck a chord and I went back, looked at it, and shook my head; that couldn't be right!
"I...I'm sorry, could you back up a second, please? You just called Barbara my mother, you're wrong, she was Nicky's mother, not mine..."
Ayesha shook her head.
"No, Richard, Barbara wasn't Nicky's mother, she was yours, you and Robert's; your father abducted Nicky from his mother, his first wife, when he was a toddler; Barbara brought him up, but she was your mother, not his..."
My jaw dropped in shock; now it all made sense, why Nicky's 'mother' was still hanging around our family; it was because she was my mother; we'd had our mother with us all along! That fucking bastard! As the thought rang through me, everything else clanged along with it; how we'd ignored and disrespected her, how we'd followed our father's lead and treated her like a servant, the way we'd grin when we heard dad abusing her, our smirks and snide comments listening to her begging dad to stop hurting her, the grossly disrespectful way we'd behaved at her funeral, now it all came back home to roost, and now I felt the sick horror that came with knowing I'd been a willing part of all that, that I'd been a part of what he'd done, everything he'd done...to my own mother!
Ayesha looked at me levelly and murmured "You didn't know..." but we did; we knew decent people didn't behave like we did, we knew that was not how you treated people, and we didn't care, because we were better than her, so we did it anyway.
Ayesha handed me a glass of water and I drank mechanically, blankly, horrified almost beyond bearing at what I'd heard, knowing there was yet worse to come...
"Please...finish it..." I murmured, bracing myself to hear the rest. Ayesha stared at me for a few seconds, and nodded.
"Robert Davies was a monster, a racist pig who loved hurting people, me, anyone, it was what he got off on, he...took me, he beat me, he hurt me so many times, and why? Because he could, that's why; whenever he came to London he'd show up here, drag me into his bed, knock me around, and leave me bruised and bloody, and I had no-one to help me, and because I had no-one to help me, he kept coming back. When he was finished with me he'd slap me around, call me names like 'Paki whore' and 'chilli-cracker' and 'wog', he did it in front of his daughters, and tell me he was going to sell them too, because no white man was going to want a chilli-cracker, but he knew plenty of men who wanted to one to play with, and when the girls were old enough, and pretty enough, he was going to sell them, because they were little whores too; he had real children already, white children, what did he need half-breed chilli-crackers for?"
My stomach was heaving with disgust as the story unfolded; I couldn't believe my dad would do things like that, but a small voice inside me kept shouting that yes, of course he could, because I'd always known what he was really like.
"How..." I murmured, and she bit her lip, tears starting in her eyes.
"When I left university, I graduated with a first-class degree in business administration, with an honour in economics; I borrowed money from my father and began a property renovation and leasing business, buying up derelict residential and small industrial premises and remodelling them, renting and leasing them back out again, it was small-scale at first, but this is London, people need places to live, places to work, to do business, and my business grew. Your father and his cronies heard about me, they saw a woman alone turning a small business into a financial success and they wanted it, so they took it from me, they moved in on me, they grabbed everything I'd worked and planned so hard for, and your father was the worst of them; he was the ringleader, it was all his plan, his get-rich-quick scheme; why work a business when you can just hijack one?"
Tears were running down her cheeks, but she bored on relentlessly.
"He took everything, he emptied my bank accounts, he made me take out loans against the business and sign over all my properties to him, everything I'd worked for, and, when I tried to object, to fight back, he'd just hurt someone I loved; his friends beat my father so badly he's never recovered, and my family found out, because he told them, just to make sure they disowned me, to make sure they'd never lift a finger to help me, and when he got hi
s hands on everything I owned he sold it all for whatever he could get for it because he didn't care, he hadn't paid anything for it, whatever he got for it, it was all profit for him. And then it was all gone; I had nothing left, and when I had nothing left, he started using me, because I had nothing else to for him to take, and he said rag-head whores were only good for one thing, so he and his friends used me until he decided I was his personal whore, and that's what I became, over and over again."
She paused to sip from her water glass, her hand trembling slightly as she looked past me at something I couldn't see, before taking a deep breath and putting her glass down and squaring her shoulders as she continued her story.
"When I fell pregnant with Shari he was so angry, he beat me so badly I was in hospital for three weeks, when I came home he told me I could keep the baby, as far as he was concerned it wasn't his, and he did the same thing with Yasmin; he paid nothing for them, not a penny, I had to scrape around finding whatever work I could just to feed my children, because he wouldn't, he had you and Robert; my children were nothing to him, my family wanted nothing to do with me and my half-caste, bastard children; we were alone, and I had no-one to help me, to keep that man away from me, to stop him doing whatever he wanted to me."
I sat in shock; I knew my father had a mean, vicious side, but this? This was monstrous, that a man could do things like that to a defenceless woman? It horrified and sickened me, because this was my father, part of me was part of him, and the thought of that disgusted me beyond all reason; all I could do was sit in silence while this horror rolled over me; my father was a demon, and I was his son...
Ayesha bowed her head, I could see the tears dripping from her chin as she cried silently, and I cursed myself for coming here and stirring all this up again inside her; I wanted to reach out to her but I didn't know how.
