Why?

by Glynis Baxter

  As I turned onto my street, there she was on her own stood outside her house. I looked around to see if there were any adults walking up or down the street but there was no one around. I crossed the road to avoid her, glancing across I could see her looking at me with total hatred in her eyes, “Danielle, you little shit, get here.” I was going no where near her, and ran up the street with her chasing after me. “You wait till I get my fucking hands on you. I fucking hate you.” She had picked up half a house brick, and to say she was so fat she had nearly caught me up. I tore round the corner of my house into the passage. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” She raised the brick and launched it up the passageway with such force it hit the wall opposite to where I was running and rebounded on to the other wall, missing me by inches and shattering as it landed on the ground. She gave out a great big sigh, and yelled up the passage, “I’ll get you next time, bitch.”

  I ran up to the back door and pulled down the handle like my life depended on it, but it didn’t budge, thankfully Dawn had retreated, probably thinking my parents would have been in so had not dared follow me. I got the key from the usual hiding place and let myself in. I was shaking like a leaf. Christ she could have killed me, what was her problem? Why did she hate me enough to want to cave my skull in with a house brick? I sat in the dark until Jerry got in, too scared to make a sound, or even put a light on in case she came back, and maybe this time bringing her so-called mates. I kept imagining myself face down in the passage, blood pouring out the back of my head, alive, but suffering, maybe even slowly bleeding to death, no one knowing I was there; Jerry eventually finding me pale and cold laid out on the passage floor, with half a brick shattered at the side of me and Dawn not giving a damn about her actions and simply leaving me to rot.

  As usual I never said anything, I had got to the point where there was no point, no one was there, and no one was listening anyway, plus if I did say anything would it make things worse for me. I never walked by Dawn’s door again no matter what. I walked the long way home and it worked for me, I never really saw her, and if she was outside her house, it was too far and too steep a street, for her to attempt to catch me. I would be well gone by the time she got to the top.

  I was enjoying this term in school my teacher was nice and the children were the same ones I had gone through the other years with. The school holiday was spent with my mum at her work playing cards and dominoes with the locals so all in all I was pretty settled, even Jerry had backed off some. So the only demons I had were Dawn and my continuous nightmares although even though these were frightening I had come to accept them as normal. I would go to bed knowing it would be the first thing I would see as I drifted off to sleep; the snakes of all sizes and various colours, with venomous, hissing, wanting to sink their fangs into me. I would seem to get to the point of sheer panic in these nightmares and then simply drift off – it was bizzare.

  14

  I don’t know if it was my mum or Jerry, but we now owned a brand new colour television, not many people had one of these, and we were all excited when it was switched on for the first time. Wow, the colours simply exploded all over the screen as it was switched on, none of us could pull our eyes away from it, it was simply hypnotising.

  I was engrossed in the television, watching some wildlife programme on a Sunday afternoon. My mum walked over to me from the kitchen where she had been preparing Sunday lunch. “Danielle, your dad’s here.” Not even looking away from the television I simply replied “No he’s not, he’s dead.” Sighing my mum took my hand “Danielle, come with me.” Leading me to the back door, I peered from behind her, standing in the doorway was a man, a stranger, dressed in a light grey suit, black shiny shoes, of medium height and build with black short hair that was combed back off his face.

  I glanced up at my mum, confused to say the very least. “Danielle this is your dad, and he is going to take you out for the day.” My mouth dropped agape, and before I could reason out this madness and protest she had bundled me out of the door and closed it behind me. So there I was stood with this man, what the hell was I supposed to make of this. He was the first to speak: “My car’s parked round the front, Danielle, I thought we could go for a drive and then get some dinner.” I followed him, hesitantly down the passage and onto the street. Parked at the front of our house was a huge silver shiny car; I had no idea what it was, but I could tell it was expensive. He unlocked the back door and opened it, holding on to the car door while I hauled myself in and sat on the back seat, the smell of leather hit you as soon as you got in the car it was immaculate and spotless.

  We sat in silence, as he drove, I was in total shock, unable to speak or take any of these new events in. My dad was dead, yet here he was, I was sat in his car and he was driving. How was any of this even possible? Why had my mum lied all these years? Where had he been? Why had I not seen him until now? Questions were spinning round and round in my head, but I was to shell shocked to speak, to utter a single syllable, I was nine years old, how could this be happening? I had come to terms with the fact he was dead, I never knew him, so I couldn’t really grieve for him, but now this.

  He pulled up outside a nice semi-detached property, holding open the car door for me I climbed out. “This is where I live, Danielle, I just need to pop in for a few minutes, and then we will go get some dinner.” He had the same accent as my mum, a northern accent, but not as broad as my grandparents’. I followed him in through the front door into his house, the place like his car was immaculate, entering the front room there was a woman there, slim, taller than my mum with black shoulder-length hair. “Danielle this is Maureen,” I never said a word, I was looking at the huge bowl of fruit on their dining room table; I had never seen anything like it. He exchanged a few words with the woman, then beckoned me to sit with him on the sofa, where a photo album was laying, he proceeded to turn the pages telling me who this relation was and that relation was, it was all a blur to me and meaningless. This was all wrong, I had not been prepared for any of this, I just wanted to go home, it wasn’t perfect back home but at least there I knew where I fitted in.

  Finally he put down the photo album, said his farewells to Maureen, who had not spoken a single word to me, she simply appeared awkward and uncomfortable, not even sitting down just pacing the room the entire visit. We got back in the car, and arrived at a really fancy restaurant the sign said The Halfway Inn. I had never been here before or anywhere like it, but knew I was going to feel awkward and out of place. On entering you were greeted by the sound of families dining, children laughing and the hustle and bustle of a very busy place with waiters rushing here, there and everywhere. We stood at a sign that said wait here for service, we were soon escorted to a table for two, my dad handed me a menu and I looked at it awkwardly, I had never been given a menu, mind know how to chose from one. “I think I will have the Sunday dinner,” my dad announced. “Have you decided, Danielle?” Panic hit me I had no idea what to choose. Looking at the menu again I chose the first thing I saw, luckily it turned out to be burger and chips.

  “Danielle, it’s lovely to meet you, I think about you all the time.” I glanced up at him, how the hell was I meant to answer that?

  “OK, yes, Dad, nice to see you’re alive and well,” somehow didn’t seem apropriate so I simply pushed the food around on my plate trying to avoid eye contact. This was so awkward and uncomfortable I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Finally I made an excuse saying I needed the toilet. I was shaking when I entered the toilet, I literally wanted to hide in there until my mum came and picked me up. I decided though I did actually need the toilet. When I had finished I went to slide the lock across but it wouldn’t budge. I tried several times. Oh no I was locked in! I was just about to bang on the door for help when a woman’s voice rang out, “You OK in there? Your dad sent me to check on you.” I explained I was locked in and she released the latch from her side. Thanking her and relieved I went back to our table. “You
OK? I was worried, that’s why I sent the lady in to check on you.” I explained what had happened and my dad laughed, “That’s OK then, I thought you had ran out on me.”

  After dinner my dad took me shopping. It was October and my mum in her haste to bundle me out the house had not even thrown a coat out after me. “My word, Danielle, there’s not an ounce of fat on you to keep you warm. Where is your coat? You must be frozen.” He led me into what appeared to be a really fancy clothes shop, marched over to the children’s section and handed me a long, cream, fur coat. “Do you like this?” What nine year old wouldn’t? He held it open while I put my arms through the sleeves. Wow it was so plush and soft I had never ever had anything like this ever. “There’s a mirror over here, Danielle, come give us a twirl.” I ran over to the mirror excited to see myself in hopefully my new coat. Oh my it was fab, I loved it, I twirled around as instructed, my dad laughing at me. “So do you like it?” Suddenly I had found my voice.

  “Yes, yes, yes, I love it, can I really have it?”

  “I insist. I can’t have my only daughter freezing to death now, can I?” I refused to take it off so the assistant removed the tags so I could keep it on and show it off to my mum when I got home.

  After, my dad dropped me off on the front street. “See you next week, Danielle.” Beaming I waved him off. I ran into the house and my mum instantly stood up when I entered. “Mum, look, look, I got a new coat, aint it lovely?” My mum stood there, her mouth agape not knowing what to say, taking it off I handed it to her. “Mum put it somewhere safe until next week.” Folding the coat up she replied, “Next week, why what’s happening next week?”

  “My dad says he is taking me out again.”

  15

  The following Sunday, wearing the new coat my dad had bought me and the new dress, stockings and pumps my mum had got me that week, I waited patiently for my dad’s return. I felt like a princess as I had never had clothes as nice before. I had still not processed this new turn of events, except I knew my mum had lied and my dad was alive and well. Why would you lie about something as horrific as that? It made no sense. I needed to ask her about it, as it was niggling away at me, eating away at me. I needed answers. So I had decided once this visit was over I would ask her, ask her when she seemed plyable and wouldn’t jump down my throat. After all she must be expecting me to ask at some point surely.

  I was waiting on the front street where my mum had sent me to wait, I was still not sure about any of this, but I was too young to put into words how I felt, to get it over to anyone how mixed up I felt. This person even though he is saying he is my dad feels nothing but a stranger to me. Anyone could have turned up and said, “Hi Danielle, I’m your dad, let’s go play.” Even though my mum had said all this time he was dead, and died in a car crash I had never seen a single picture of my real dad. There were no pictures up in the house of him, none of any of us in fact, that may have been why I never thought of it till now. My dad’s house had photographs of him and Maureen up, photo albums of his and supposedly my relations – not that I knew any of them they were all just strangers to me. Yet I had never seen one solitary picture at mine, I had never even thought about it until now; this had most likely been brought on by the pictures I was shown last week.

  I was not waiting long when his car drew up, he jumped out beaming and opened the back car door for me while I jumped in. “Hello, beautiful, how has school been?” I found it easier to speak to him this week and the conversation was simple, just general questions such as “What do you want to be when you grow up?” and “How is the family up north?” It seemed funny listening to him talk about my grandparents and relatives up north, it made it all seem more real, he obviously knew these people as he was going into depth talking away about them.

  I had no idea where we were going, he never said. “Danielle, have you ever been on a aeroplane? Or seen one?”

  I shook my head, “No, I haven’t.” He pulled up into this huge car park in front of us, was this strange building with like antennas sticking up all over it, as I was staring at the building a plane took off behind it.

  “Jump out, Danielle, your in for a treat.” I followed him into the building which was vast, we went over to a kiosk where he brought us both a drink. “Come look at this, Danielle.” He led me to a huge window which covered the entire wall, in front of it were wooden benches that we sat on. Through the window we could see at least ten aeroplanes, all different colours and sizes. One of them was being towed by some sort of truck, and there was a luggage cart making its way to one of the waiting aeroplanes. “Danielle, look over there. One’s about to take off.” There appeared to be so much activity I couldn’t make out where he meant, but suddenly an aeroplane was tearing down the runway my dad was getting really excited. “Look! Danielle, look! It will be up in the air at any moment.” I kept my eyes totally focused on the aeroplane. It was gaining speed, getting faster and faster; it was getting to the end of the runway and I was holding my breath, wondering what happens then. Gracefully, like a giant bird, it started to rise, floating around three feet of the ground, we were both totally transfixed by it as it took to the the sky, we watched it until it was completely out of sight.

  We spent a good few hours at the airport watching the aeroplanes. It was fascinating, my dad was telling me the different types, where they were going. I saw the holiday makers happily boarding their planes, and the returning ones all tanned departing theirs; I could envisage what it could possibly be like floating through the air in one of those huge aircrafts. “One day, Danielle, no doubt you will get to go up in one of those and experience it for yourself.”

  There is no way I could ever see that happening. “I doubt it Dad.” Arr I had called him Dad. He had realised and, smiling down at me, replyied, “Come on daughter, let’s get some food. I don’t know about you, but I am ravinous.”

  Getting back in the car, I watched out for the last sightings of a departing or returning airplane, and pointed them out to my dad as he drove. We arrived at a chip shop, it was a take away or you could eat in. I took a seat and my dad placed our order. This was much better than some fancy restaurant; I couldn’t really go wrong ordering sausage, chips and a bottle of pop, and I had been to the toilet in the airport so there was no fear of me getting locked in again. We chatted while we ate, my dad instigating the topics of conversation. After he dropped me back off at home, he explained he was going to be working away for a few weeks but not to worry he would be over to see me again the first weekend he had free.

  My mum was watching television when I got back, another wildlife programme. I did not like them, watching a pack of lions rip up a poor zebra or whatever to pieces, was not my idea of entertainment, I just could not stomach the goriness of it. So our conversation would have to wait, but I was determined I was going to ask her, but now was not the time. “Mum, I won’t be seeing him for a couple of weeks as he is working away.” I don’t think she even registered I was speaking to her, as she had her eyes glued to the sickening sight on the television.

  16

  The following week I was proved correct, she had not been listening or paying any attention to what had been said when she told me to go get ready, as my dad would be along for me. Sighing, I explained to her what he had said about being away. She looked put out as if it was interfering with her plans in some way, “Mum, why did you tell me my dad was dead?” She gave me the look which meant don’t push it.

  “Danielle, I told you he was dead, because he has never bothered with you, he has never paid a penny to your upkeep, and I felt it was easier if I simply told you he was dead, that way you wouldn’t feel rejected by your own father.”

  “OK I guess that makes sense, so why is he bothering now?”

  “I don’t know, you will have to ask him that, I just hope he doesn’t let you down, Danielle.”

  As I was now at a loose end with not going out with my dad, I decided to d
o some school work at the dining room table. My mum was busying herself making a casserole in the kitchen. After about an hour there was a knock at the door. My mum looked slightly embarrassed as she opened the door as standing there were a couple of coal delivery men – bizarre to say the very least as it was a Sunday. There they were though blackened up in their work clothes, the one at the door chatting to my mum while his work mate emptied sack after sack into our coal house. “Ryan you giving us a hand or what?” Giving my mum a broad grin, Ryan as I now knew him set to helping deliver the rest of the load.

  “Danielle, get that table cleared of your school stuff, dinner’s ready.” Doing as instructed and setting the table for two, my mum came in with an extra dish, followed by Ryan in his filthy clothes. “We have company for dinner today, as there is plenty. I have asked him to have some with us.” I sat at the table slowly eating my food, watching them exchanging glances but not really saying much. Ryan ate his casserole as if he had not ate for a week and then had seconds, saying it was yummy when he had done. He was a big man – and by this I mean fat – with jet-black hair combed back off his face in the style of Elvis Presley. He was around 5foot 10inch in height and I figured that even though he appeared fat he must be strong as it can be no mean feat humping coal sacks around all day. He left as soon as he had finished saying, “There would be another delivery the same time next month.”

  Which there was, and it was the same thing. Mum would cook her casserole, he would eat a couple of bowls, thank her and leave, after a while it became normal. Jerry was never at home, it would just be the three of us, but I never thought anything of it. After one of his visits Jerry came home and was tucking into his casserole. “Laura, this is lovely, it is really good.”