After my first day at my new school I decided I was going back to the old house, the guilt was too much, I needed to find out what had happened to Sooty no matter how bad it was. By the time I reached the old house I was trembling like a leaf and was in a cold sweat, my mouth was dry and I felt I would pass out at any second, but I was doing this, I was not turning back. The very sight of the house made me sick to my stomach, but then it dawned on me the house was empty, there was a for sale sign outside. Oh my, the house looked bleak: the windows were filthy, the paint was peeling off the frames. I knew the place was bad but now in its empty state it was appalling.
Sooty was not in his rightful place meowing at the front door so, glancing around to check no one was around, I made my way up the passage to the back garden. The back of the property was worse than the front, I could hardly believe I had actually ever lived here, there was still no sign of the cat. Oh no, My heart sunk, he was gone. There was one last thing I could try. Going to the top of the garden I did the whistle he was accustomed to, and there in a flash Sooty came running up from next door’s garden. I had never been so relieved to see anything in my entire life. With tears rolling down my cheeks I sat on the grass and Sooty was purring and rubbing into me. He felt so good, and he looked well considering he had been left all these months. All the while I was fussing him I was anxious and scared I would get caught, so now what was I going to do? Leave him here? Take him home? Hope the new owners would take pity on him, and take him in? I knew I had to do something, but what? Even though I was scared I stayed a long while fussing him and rocking him with tears streaming down my face. I loved this cat, I never wanted him, and now I didn’t want to be without him.
Jumping free of my arms, Sooty suddenly shot off back into the neighbour’s garden, peering over the fence I just managed to see that someone had returned home and he was purring round their feet. “You here again, puss.Come on then let’s get you fed and settled.” Oh thank god, the neighbours had taken him in, I had never ever seen the neighbours when I lived here but I was thankful for them now. It brought a lump to my throat to see Sooty being affectionate with a stranger, but then again what was he meant to do, he was such a lovely, affectionate cat that I was pleased he had found a good home and appeared safe, after all that’s all I could wish for.
If I took him back with me what was to stop him getting out? And this time getting run over. After all the traffic was constantly busy. My mum might be mad at me for fetching him back, after all she had not mentioned about going and getting him. In fact she had never mentioned him since the move; it was as if in her eyes he had never existed. Ryan may also be cruel to him as Jerry had been. I had to be selfless and walk away. Another thing I had lost. I had made a pledge not to get hurt again, yet here I was sobbing like a baby over a dumb cat.
30
I kept quiet about my visit to the old house, like I had learned to keep quiet about everything. My mum still had no time for me, her life revolved around her work but at least now she had a nine-to-five job. Friday night, Saturday afternoon, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon they were at the local pubs from opening till close. They would always come back in a right state, and I would never know if they would come in giggling or arguing.
On one of their drinking sessions my mum arrived home early, without Ryan, saying she had come back to make dinner, and he would be following her back in around an hour when the meal was ready. This all seemed very odd, as this had never happened before, but my mum set about doing the meal, gave me mine, and then started pacing, checking and rechecking the clock on the kitchen wall.
“He told me he would be an hour, it’s now been over two. Wait until he gets in.” She was livid she was literally spitting her words out.
I sat there quietly, eating my food, watching her getting more and more irritated. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and no sooner had Ryan entered the room than she was at him. “So what was the idea of sending me ahead, to cook you a meal you had no intention of coming back for. What am I, some kind of mug? Or were you up to something? Up to no good no doubt? Well we can both play at that game, I’ve done it before and I can do it again. You see this dinner? I have a good mind to sling it in the bin, you son of a bitch.” She was screaming at the top of her voice.
Ryan who had stood there totally shell-shocked by her outburst, finally flipped. Picking up the hot plate of food he said, “Laura, you can stick your food.” The plate flew through the air and I watched it as it came hurtling towards me. I instinctively ducked at the table so it would not hit me, but luckily he had thrown it too high to get me. There was an almighty scream. Spinning round in my seat, the scream had come from my mum who had been stood behind me while yelling at Ryan. The plate had hit her full force in the face, and she was screaming hysterically with red-hot potato dripping from her left eye, Ryan fled, obviously appalled by his actions, without a backward glance or an apology.
My mum once she had composed herself, managed to call a taxi and we went to accident and emergency at the local hospital. On the way she made up this elaborate story and said I needed to stick to it and not to mention the real reason for her injuries. I figured she was mad, after all why would you cover up something like that. It was obvious the staff in the hospital did not believe a single word either, and just frowned at her as she explained how a bake potato exploded as she got it out the oven. Thankfully I was never asked what really happened; I was loyal to my mum, but in this instance I felt she was wrong so I would have probably told the truth.
We spent a few hours in there. Firstly they had to clean out the remains of any food lodged in her eye, then treat the burns and finally check for any permanent damage. When she came out she said it had been horrific, that they had to take her eyeball out and rest it on her cheek while they cleaned her up and checked the tissues etc. I knew she was exaggerating, as surely eyeballs can not be removed this way. Yet she had not given Ryan away for the assault. She said as far as they could tell there was no permanent damage, but obviously time would tell if it would affect her vision or not. Her eye was bandaged and they had given her drops to put in to stop her eye drying out and to help with her recovery.
Ryan was in when we got back, more concerned with if anything had been said than how my mum was and if the police would be a knocking. My mum reassured him all was well, and she had not dropped him in it. As it was Saturday night they both went back out to the pub my mum bandaged up and acting as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
I as per-usual was left at home, trying to figure out this bizarre catalogue of events. Why would anyone not say something to the hospital, police, friends? It made no sense. He may have done her permanent harm and yet she was keeping quiet, why? Has he some hold over her? Did she just love him unconditionally? Or was she scared to be alone? To lose her security and the stability of their relationship? Whatever it was I figured she was simply crazy, and to want me to cover up something as bad as that saying it was an exploding jacket potato, no way. If anyone asked I would tell the truth. I may have had to cover up a lot of my own abuse but I was not prepared to do the same for my mother.
The eye incident was not mentioned again, my mum thankfully had no lasting damage to her sight and the burns were only superficial. The only reminder she had of that day was that her eyelashes on her left eye did not grow out anymore, they grew in, causing her pain and having to go to the opticians to have them removed so they weren’t stabbing her in the eye.
31
Ryan was loving working at the pit, and as part of his wage he got free coal delivered every month, more than enough to heat the house and sell some on the side. So my mum was apprehensive when he told her he had to give up his fuel allowance as everyone in the town had letters telling them it was becoming a smokeless area. The workers where Ryan worked had all received letters letting them know their employer was aware of the situation, and were offering to buy their coal allowance off t
hem, and also give them loans to have the gas supply and all necessary work carried out.
So not really having any choice in the situation, Ryan got a pay out for his coal allowance and set up the loan with his employer. They decided they were having all the old fires ripped out and a gas boiler fitted in the cupboard under the stairs. A team of workmen arrived and the house was in total disarray as sledge hammers were smashing out the old fireplaces, floorboards were up everywhere as they laid pipes for the radiators. There was dust and debris everywhere.
The team of workmen were led by Max, a young man in his early twenties. Oh my was he fit, in fact he was the first male to ever draw my attention. He was a perfect match for David Essex. Long black wavy hair, immaculate even after his long shift in the house. He had dark brown eyes and a smile to die for that showed off his perfect white smile. When I got in from school he would always get me to put the kettle on and we would chat – well mainly he would chat, and I would stand there mainly gawking like a love-sick puppy.
I was gutted when the work was finished, which meant I would not see him again. He had showed us all how to operate the new system and said if there were any problems to ring him and he would try and sort it asap. The new heating worked perfectly. For the first time we had heat throughout the house; it was lovely waking up in the morning, whipping back the bed covers and still feeling nice and warm instead of dithering and having to quickly put on a dressing gown that had gone cold and damp in the night.
The school boiler had broken at school and we had been sent home early, so imagine my surprise to walk into the house and hear a lot of faffing coming from upstairs. I heard a man’s voice: “Shit, who’s that.” Max and my mum nearly fell onto the landing in their rush to discover who had entered. Max’s hair was all deshreveled and he was flushed, hastily zipping up his trousers; my mum was stood behind him trying to adjust her blouse. “Danielle, what the hell are you doing here?” my mum finally managed to stutter. Max decided to take control of the situation: “Hi chick, I’m just sorting out a prob with the rads up here.” He threw me one of his huge Essex smiles and I felt my heart skip. It was more than obvious he was lying and it didn’t help my mum standing behind him looking like the cat that had got the cream.
I did not move from the bottom of the stairs, I could not believe what I was witnessing. “Well I think you will find that’s sorted now, so I will bid you both farewell.” As he slowly came down the stairs I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Really, he had been with my mum, why? She was way to old for him. He was gorgeous, he could have any woman he wanted – any young, attractive woman he wanted, and yet here he was caught red-handed with my mum who was not ugly but she was just average. Had my mum come on to him? Possibly, as I could not see it being the other way round, but whatever happened it had obviously been mutual. Had my mum got him round here saying there was a fault, and then just jumped on him? Who knows, and obviously it wasn’t something I was going to discuss with her. So it was just another secret to add to the rest I guess.
After Max left, my mum came downstairs, still flushed but acting as if all was normal. “What was wrong with the heating, mum?”
It was obvious she was flustered by my question. “Oh it was nothing, Danielle, just one of the radiators wasn’t heating properly. He as sorted it now, so he won’t need to come back.” It was blatantly obvious she was lying and she knew I knew, but then again what was she going to say? “It’s OK, Danielle, I just shagged the plumber, please don’t give me away to Ryan.” I had no intention of giving her away; things were far from perfect, but it was one hell of a step up from where we had been before. And if I did then what? We would be homeless because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. So no I was not saying a word, but to be honest I was slightly jealous. I had no experience with boys, after all I was only eleven, but my oh my was he fit. No wonder my mum was acting so smug.
32
My mum’s drinking was escalating as well as their Friday night and weekend sessions. My mum had started drinking every night after work while Ryan was at work. I would never know what mood she would be in, as she slowly drank herself into oblivion every night. On good nights she would simply stagger to bed, but on others she would be evil, calling me names from a pig to a dog. It got to the point I was too scared to simply talk to her, as she would jump down my throat, making me feel worthless and ugly.
As Ryan worked shifts, on his days off he took an active role in the house while my mum was at work.
“Danielle, come and look at this, you’ll never believe it.”
Following him into the kitchen I saw he had dragged the twin tub into the middle of the room. “Open the lid, Danielle, I’m telling you I could not believe it. Your mums got a serious problem” I did as requested and peered in the twin tub. Both sides of the twin tub were full of empty bottles: wine bottles, sherry bottles, and barley wine bottles.
“Your mum’s got a serious problem, something needs to be done. Only an alcoholic would behave like this.” I stared at the bottles unsure of what to say. I was not shocked at what I was seeing, as I knew her drinking was out of control, just surprised she had been stashing all her empties there. Why not just put them in the bin?
“Someone needs to talk to her about this, Danielle.” He was looking at me as if to say “Come on, volunteer, talk to her.” I had not been able to speak to her for months without getting my head bitten off, so there was no way I was going to approach this subject with her.
“What am I meant to do with all these, for Christ sake? There’s too many to bin.” Looking exasperated he shut the lid on the twin tub and pushed it back into its rightful place. “Stuff her, she can sort the bloody washing – that’s if she is in any fit state, that is.” I took it from his actions he was not going to mention his find, or was going to wait for an appropriate time to bring up the subject, but he also knew my mums temper so I figured he was simply going to leave it.
Her drinking continued every night and every weekend like clockwork, she would come home in such a state she was unable to stand and I would be left to undress her and help her into bed. She was not light to move, and it would take all my strength to help her indoors and up the stairs to bed. My school work was suffering as I was not getting any proper sleep, and if I was in bed whether in the week or at weekend I would get hauled out of bed to assist my mum in one way or another. Ryan still went out with her every weekend. Saturday mornings were the worst as they would both get so drunk on the Friday night they would spend all Saturday morning arguing only to get ready a few hours later to do it all over again.
I had school friends but never invited anyone round; I was too ashamed. It would either be a case of my mum sat slowly drinking herself to oblivion, or ranting and screaming like a maniac making a right show of me. I went to my friends’ homes occasionally. I would be welcomed by a smiling mother and a warm and cheery home. I enjoyed these visits but they were rare as I felt I could never invite anyone back.
The one thing I did enjoy was swimming. My mum had actively encouraged me to do well at swimming at school as she was petrified of the water. So every Sunday morning I went and let of some steam at the local baths. I used to get a coloured wristband that told the attendance when your hour was up. I loved it and I used to do lap after lap after lap. The only strokes I was any good at were front crawl and backstroke; by the time my hour was up I must have done at least fifty laps, but it revived me and gave me a little me time.
While at school one day they called me in to see the school nurse. “Hi Danielle, this is just a routine check up. I am simply going to take your weight and height.” Taking off my shoes I stood under the scale as she lowered down the marker. “144 cm yes, that’s fine, now your weight, Danielle. Hop on the scales.” I watched as the scales finally settled on 3 and a half stone. “OK Danielle, thank you, you can put your shoes back on now,” I watched as she busied herself writing down her figures. I was no expert but 3 and
a half stone, surely that was never right for an eleven year old girl? “Right, Danielle, I am a little concerned about your weight. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but to be on the safe side I will send your mum a letter to get you checked out by your doctor.”
The letter arrived the following week, and my mum had me straight to the doctors.
“Hello Mrs Jackson, what can I do for you today.” My mum explained the school’s concerns. “Is she eating OK? Got plenty of energy?”
My mum glanced over at me with the look that all parents have. “She is fine, she eats like a horse,” my mum reassured him.
“Then you have nothing to worry about, Mrs Jackson. Some children are just slower developers, as long as she is eating and full of beans, there is nothing to concern yourself about.”
I felt alright, never really hungry, so maybe the stress was affecting my weight. Constantly having to play on my wits and living on my nerves was affecting not just my mental state but also my physical well being. Over the next few years my situation never altered: my mother continued to drink, the weekly arguments continued and I was left to pick up the pieces. I grew tall and lanky and virtually a nervous wreck, scared of my own shadow and too scared to stick up for myself as I was always put back in my place by my mother’s sharp, cutting and spiteful tongue.
33
My grandma raised her concerns when I went on my yearly visit. “Laura, how come she is so skinny? And she doesn’t seem right. What’s going on with her?”
My mum would make up excuses, saying I was having problems at school, that I did not like it. My grandma offered to take me in to live with her, if it would make things easier, but my mum refused point blank saying no matter what I was staying with her. My grandparents weren’t pleased but they had to accept her decision regardless.
Why? Page 11
