Why?

by Glynis Baxter

  I started the new term with a bright red, new pair of NHS spectacles. I wasn’t keen on wearing them, as they pinched my nose and made it red and sore. The optician had been nice and explained everything to me on a level I could understand; he explained to me that my left eye was weaker than my right, so my right eye had to work harder to compensate. He said that if the glasses didn’t work to straighten out my vision, I would need an operation at some point in the future. He also referred us to King’s Mill, our local hospital, so I could have regular check ups on my eyes, these were going to be every three months getting less over time if there was a dramatic improvement.

  The start of a new academic term meant my class was in another classroom further along the corridor, we all sat there nervously waiting on the arrival of our new teacher. I was secretly praying Mrs Taylor would walk in, but no this year a male teacher walked in. Without saying a word, he picked up the chalk and wrote in big letters “Mr Wilcox”; instantly I knew I wasn’t going to like him.

  He was an old-fashioned teacher who ruled with a rod of iron, who expected silence in the class, everyone to sit up straight in their chairs and only speak when spoken too. He walked around the classroom slapping a ruler into the palm of his hand chanting times tables and lyrics that we had to chant along to, there was never any trouble in his class no one would dare speak out of turn.

  Assemblies were always the same; we were led into the big hall, and the headmistress gave the assembly from her platform. Looking up at her I still had the double vision the glasses had not cured this, hopefully this would get sorted in time. I would look up at the raised second image of the headmistress floating in the air, and I had discovered if I moved my head slightly in different directions I could get the image to move in different directions, even making her raise higher or lower depending how I tilted my head. I was no longer scared of this strange phenomenon it had become a normal part of my life, a normal part of who I was.

  Of course I got the usual teasing – specky, four eyes etc – but it never really bothered me, after all it was normally the children from deprived homes or others with their own image issues. Of course it hurt my feelings, I was a sensitive eight-year-old with my own issues, but I would never let them know they were getting to me. Some of the children in my class took a disliking to me because I always got top marks, while they seemed to be struggling at their lessons.

  One girl in particular took against me, her name was Dawn Clarke and she was in my class. She also lived at the bottom of my street, she came from a family of ten with five brothers and three sisters, I had never done anything to her, never even really spoke two words to her, but for some reason she hated the very sight of me, and she wasn’t afraid to let me know. As I was only slim I always did well in physical education; I could run laps around the school field and not really get out of breath and I got every single swimming badge going and loved it. I could twist and turn myself into every position in stretch class and never fell off the balance beams. Dawn was the same age as me but she was a big girl, and easily three times my weight. She would try to run and end up gagging for breath; she was embarrassed at having to wear her overtight pinching swimsuit, and any twisting and turning she tried would end up with her falling flat on her face with the other children pointing and glaring at her. No one would actually dare laugh at her, however, as she was the class bully, and no one wanted her on their case.

  I was the smallest in the class, maybe that is why she started – probably figured I was an easy target. I had no brothers or sisters to stick up for me. So every chance she got she would set on me, it started as basic name calling which I ignored, then the odd jab passing her in the school corridors.

  Then one evening after school, I had stayed behind with some other children who had been chosen for the school play, it was Alice in Wonderland, and I was the Cheshire cat in the play. I only had a line but still everyone had to stay behind once a week for the rehearsals. It was dark when I left school; a lot of the parents had picked their children up, so as I walked through the playground to the main gate the place was deserted.

  Suddenly out of nowhere there was Dawn, and around her were another four children I didn’t recognise, I looked around trying to figure out my escape but there was nowhere to go. Slowly they walked up to me, and led me into one of the school shelters the four younger children started to yell, shouting at her to punch me and egging her on, she raised her fist and punched me in the side of the ribs, the kids were spurring her on with their endless chanting. More blows rained down on me as I covered my head to try to protect myself. Finally she seemed to get bored with the whole situation, pulled me by the arm out of the circle of children, and told me to flee for my life.

  It was a good fifteen minutes back to my house, but I ran all the way, choking on tears and never once looking back. When I got back the house was empty, so I let myself in with the key mum left under the bin. There was a dinner on the side for me, which I struggled to eat. It was late when Jerry got back; he was accompanied by one of his friends and, as I could not cope with anymore grief, I retired up to my room, got into bed only to be tormented by the dreaded snakes. When was this ever going to end?

  The following week at our usual after-school rehearsal, I could not concentrate, I was conscious of the fact that when this was over I had to walk back home alone. I was constantly being reprimanded by the teacher in charge, who was taking it all very seriously, wanting it all to be perfect for the watching crowd on the opening night. “Danielle, if I have to tell you one more time to stop talking I’ll seriously flip.” We were eight years old, it was not going to be a Shakespearean play it was meant to be a bit of fun and I felt like telling her to get a grip. In the end she gave up, glaring over at me. “That’s it, I have had enough. We will call it a night.” The other children sat chatting, waiting for their lifts or parents to pick them up, but I knew I had to face going outside in the dark, crossing the empty, spooky playground.

  As I opened the door leading to the playground, I peeked out, cautiously eyeing up the area. It looked a long way to the school gate that led to the street; it was pitch black, the couple of lights on in the playground made it look intimidating and scary. I looked behind me to see if anyone else was following me but no one was there, all I could hear was the children laughing and chatting in the school hall. I couldn’t hide here all night. I could hear my heart pounding as I ran at full-pelt across the playground, I made it to the school gate. Hurling it open, I ran like I had the Devil himself chasing me. Every street corner I turned, I expected to run into them but as we had left early maybe they were on their way up to the school to get me. I went an alternative route, not knowing if it was their usual route or not, I just knew I was not passing their front door. Finally, I made it back in one piece; as usual the house was in darkness. I retrieved the key and let myself in, locking it right behind me. Putting the light on I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my face was flushed, my cheeks were burning, I fell into a nearby chair, panting and struggling to get my breath.

  11

  On my way to school the following week a girl came running up to me, talking away at ten miles an hour. “Hi I’m Debra, I have just moved onto the street. I live six doors down from you, can I walk with you to school?” Debra was smaller than me, with dark short hair and a willing smile. “My mum says I need to make new friends, will you be my friend? I am seven, by the way, how old are you?” She never waited for a response just carried on rattling on about herself and her family all the way to school. As we arrived at the school gates she ran ahead, skipping up to the line of waiting children. “See you later, I’ll look out for you,” she yelled at the top of her voice, as she took her place at the back of the queue.

  As I left school at the end of the day, she had attached herself onto Dawn’s younger sister Anne, as they were in the same class. I could see Dawn glaring at this outsider, and it was obvious she was not happy with Debra t
agging along with them. Debra appeared oblivious to Dawn, and was laughing and joking with her new friend.

  Anne and Debra soon became best friends, a situation her elder sister detested and every chance she got she would beat poor Debra up, who would then go crying back to her mum. Debra’s mum would be forever out on the street screaming and shouting at us kids. “I am sick to death of you lot picking on my Debra, if I have to come out one more time, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Dawn and her hangers on just stood in the middle of the street jeering at her and laughing, I had been sent to the shop by my mum to get some milk and was stood intently listening to their outbursts.

  Finally Debra’s mum, exasperated and embarrassed, went back indoors, and I went ahead to get the milk as instructed. On my return from the shop she was out again swearing, ranting and raving at Dawn and her friends; you could see she was absolutely livid. I walked up the street but could not pass Dawn and her friends as they were blocking my route, so I stood at the back of everyone waiting for space to pass. Dawn jeered at her and swore back. That was it, Debra’s mum tore down the street looking like she would murder the first person she got hold of; the crowd blocking my route turned on their heels sending me flying and the milk smashing to the ground. They ran by me, and I could see Debra’s mum tearing towards me so I also ran down the street after the others. They all ran down the passage that led to Dawn’s back door with me lagging well behind. As I turned the corner that led to her back door I heard the door slam as they all disappeared inside, and I was trapped in her yard totally on my own with Debra’s mum bearing down on me. There was no where to go and I was trapped so I curled myself up in the fetal position and waited for the onslaught. I glanced up, she was panting as she grabbed me by my arm and dragged me to my feet. “Right, you little bitch, you are coming with me, let’s see what your mother has to say about this.”

  All the way up the street to mine, she was pulling, pushing and pinching me. With me in tears, we arrived at my back door. She was hammering down the back door, when my mum answered. With my mum standing there looking totally perplexed Debra’s mum started on her rant, telling her I was a bitch, I was constantly bullying her daughter, and if it didn’t stop she was involving the police, she said it was about time she sorted me out. My mum simply looked passed her and said, “Danielle where’s my milk.”

  Stuttering I responded, “I had dropped it.” Debra’s mum’s mouth dropped open as my mum went onto explain that I had been indoors all day and only gone out to run an errand. She said not to darken her door again with allegations that had no validation to them, and that it would be her calling the police if she continued threatening a minor. Now it was Debra’s mums turn to stutter. Looking completely shocked and gobsmacked she made her apologises and left.

  When I got in she asked me what happened I told her the whole story. She was livid and went round to see her, on her return she simply said, “Don’t worry, hun, she won’t dare ever bother you again.” I was so proud of my mum, she had actually stuck up for me for the first time ever, wow she was my hero. I had come to realise that my mum was the only person I really had in my life, the rest of my family lived to far away, she was far from perfect, but she was consistent, reliable and now I knew she loved me in her own way.

  12

  As usual I went to stay with my grandparents up north for the summer holidays, when we arrived there were other people also there. It turned out it was my auntie and uncle from Middlesex, and they had come up with their son Darren. I didn’t care less who they were, all I knew was this boy much younger than me was stood holding my bear, the bear that greeted me every year like clockwork. How dare they, how dare he stand there blatantly holding MY bear. I went over and snatched it back. “Danielle, give it him back this instant. Darren was here first so he gets the bear.” I glared up at my gran, hating her. It was mine, it had always been mine, how dare they. I ran up to my room and sobbed into the pillow and refused to go back down till tea time.

  He was still clutching my bear when I went back downstairs, the adults were sat chatting, my auntie was saying she would stay a few days until she knew Darren was settled, and then leave him, and pick him up in a couple of weeks. Oh no I was going to be stuck with him for a couple of weeks. The following day my mum left as usual, but Darren’s parents stayed as promised. I would watch them playing with him laughing and joking. He would be running around giggling his head off while his parents were playing kiss-chase with him etc; there was no doubting they idolised him.

  On their last evening before leaving Darren, they were scanning through the papers, chatting with Darren asking him what he would like to see at the pictures that evening.His mum turned to me and asked if I knew of any decent films to go and see. Looking at her blankly I shook my head not knowing what she meant. “Danielle, have you never been to the pictures to watch a film?” Again I shook my head, appearing shocked, she returned her attention back to her son. “Bambi’s on, Darren, that has good reviews we will go see that.” I watched them that evening ready to go out all smartly dressed. Darren was excited as he had been promised virtually every treat in the cinema. As they left I felt a tinge of jealousy, why had I not been to the cinema? And what was all the fuss about? I felt like I was missing out.

  Why wasn’t my mum like that with me? I couldn’t remember the last time we had laughed together or my mum had shown me any real attention. The only time we went out was on an odd evening when I would be sat on my own with a packet of crisps and a bottle of pop – if she remembered to come back with them, that is. I was left there until closing time or whenever she got fed up, as I was not allowed in the main bar. Every once in awhile though she would pop back to check if I was OK and bring me some refreshments. It was boring sitting there all night; there was a clock on the wall that never seemed to move, and there was nothing in the room but a few shabby tables and chairs.

  When they returned from the cinema, they were raving about how good it was, and how his mum had cried when the deer was shot. Darren was loaded up with goodies: pick and mix, popcorn, candy floss a large pop – way more than any small child could eat. He was giving it a good try though, stuffing handful after handful into his mouth, until his cheeks were bursting. I had never seen anything like it in my life. Eventually his mum told him to leave them until the next day as he would make himself sick. Under protest he handed them over to his mum. He spent the rest of the evening tearing around like a maniac, his mum said, “It was probably too many e-numbers.”

  The following morning they said their goodbyes, reassuring Darren they would be back before he knew it, There were a few tears off Darren as they left, but once given back his cinema treats he soon cheered up. My aunties turned up as usual for Tanya’s walk, this time Darren also came with us. It was an awkward couple of hours with neither of us knowing what to say to each other. On our return Darren went hunting out granddad and I played with Tanya; for the rest of the holiday we tolerated each other. One evening the telephone rang. “Darren, it’s your mum, she as rang to check up on you.” Taking the telephone he was excitedly chatting away to his parents, who were on the other end listening, to his holiday adventures. There it was again eating at me, I didn’t even know my grandparents owned a phone, I had never ever seen them use it, and it had never rang while I had been there, but here it was ringing for him, his concerned parents checking he was well. Didn’t my mum ever wonder or worry if I was OK? Or was she just pleased to be shot of me for the six weeks – out of sight out of mind.

  Darren’s parents arrived the following week; they stayed a few days before returning back to Middlesex with Darren. I was pleased to see him go but funnily enough when he left, the house seemed empty. I had gone and retrieved my bear from his room and settled him back in my bed, but it was not the same, as he now felt tarnished and used, so after a couple of days I tossed him out of bed to be neglected for the rest of the holiday on my bedroom floor. It was nice to have my aunts
and grandparents back to myself for the remainder of the holiday. My mum showed up as usual, and had not even taken her coat off, before persuading my grandma to let my granddad out for a few hours to go to the pub with her. When they returned I was already in bed, and the next day we said our goodbyes and left on the coach back to Mansfield.

  13

  In the summer holiday I had turned nine years old, and had shot up in the six weeks break. I was of average height for my age but I was lanky with hazel eyes and brown hair. My mum had allowed me to start growing my hair as it had always been kept short before; it had grown into my neck and I’d had it cut into a smart bob ready for the new term. My mum and I had gone into Mansfield and brought me a brand new wardrobe of clothes, as I had grown out of every item I owned, after we had lunch in town that was a special treat as we never ate out.

  I had been to the hospital for my usual check up and they were pleased with the progress, so they were holding off with any eye operations and going to give the spectacles a chance to do there job first. I still had the double vision, but my left eye had started to straighten out a little, though it was still noticeable and I was told I would probably have to wear glasses indefinitely. They had prescribed a new prescription though, and I chose purple frames this time; they were identical to my old ones being free of the NHS just simply a different colour.

  I was dreading going back to school. I knew I had to pass Dawn’s house on the way to school or do the detour as I had on that fateful night of the school rehearsal, either way I knew she would get me, unless she had found some other poor victim. I decided to go the long way on my first day to avoid bumping into her and her mates; I did this for weeks and fortunately there was no sign of her, so I thought, Right, Danielle, stop being a total wimp, and as it was raining it made my mind up to walk the normal way home.