Love That Lasts Forever

by Pat Barrow

  “I don’t think that’s right, I don’t think I can, I think it’s too hard, I think I can only really have my dad ’cos if I have my mum too, then I think I’ll lose my dad and I couldn’t stand that.” The tears streamed down my face. I’d got a lesson in ten minutes. Suzie dabbed my eyes with a tissue and gave me a big hug. “Why don’t you talk to Carol about it, she’ll understand, she’ll help you to work something out. Your mum’s so lovely; don’t give up on her.”

  Of course, she was right. I did love my mum but I couldn’t work out how to have her and Dad. That was impossible, but I hoped that Carol would understand. I wasn’t seeing her for a few days but I guessed that she would know that there was something wrong without me really saying very much and then she’d help me to say it ’cos that’s just what she always did.

  Carol didn’t let on that she had already talked to Dad and she’d probably had a word with Mum as well. She asked me how the weekend had been. I told her how good it had been to see Mum and spend time with her and staying overnight, but how it all got spoiled because of having to ring Dad and then me panicking and not being able to say anything and then Mum and Dad shouting at each other on the phone and how it was all my fault and I didn’t think I could do it anymore. But I loved my mum. And then, I just dissolved in floods of tears. Carol patiently listened and then said, “You know mums and dads don’t always get it right, they sometimes make mistakes just like everybody else does and we have to help them to understand how it is for you. They sometimes get a bit bogged down about the grown-up stuff still going on between them.”

  “But Dad just wants to protect us and he really believes that Mum’s going to hurt us and says she will be ‘up to her old tricks’ and I just don’t know, I don’t know if that’s true or not. And Dad misses us and I just don’t like being away from him.” Carol helped me to unravel my confused thoughts, so I could begin to make some sense rather than spinning round and round faster and faster.

  “Tell me about these ‘old tricks’ you keep mentioning,” she said.

  “Well, Dad says she’ll lose it and well, I think he thinks she will be dangerous and might hurt us,” I floundered.

  “Is that what you think, Hetty?”

  “Well no, but Dad says. He must know more than us – he must be really scared for us.”

  “Mmm, I understand that’s how Dad thinks it is, but unless I’ve got it wrong, you and Jonty have got on fine with Mum just as you both get on fine with Dad. What didn’t work was Mum and Dad together.”

  I agreed yes that was it, but separating them in my head was impossible, they kept getting all muddled up together and well, I believed Dad. I was sure he was really worried Mum would upset us.

  “What would make it easier for you?” Carol asked me. “Anything you could do?”

  “I wish I could talk to Dad and – you know – tell him that I love Mum too, but I can’t, I can’t do it.” Carol responded by giving another ‘mmm’ and then paused, looking thoughtful.

  After a bit, she said, “You see if you don’t ever tell your dad that you want to see Mum, it reinforces what he wants to believe and that is that you really aren’t enjoying yourself with her.”

  “But he either says nothing or else I get drowned by all these questions, so half the time I’m just wanting him to say something like he cares and then I just freeze and clam up and I can’t speak – the words won’t come. I just panic.”

  “I know,” said Carol, “you see mums and dads sometimes make things very difficult. They often don’t intend to but they can’t see how it is for anyone but themselves. I know it seems unfair but you know often it’s the children in a family who end up helping their mums and dads to see sense.”

  “Okay then, I can see I’ll have to phone him when we’re at Mum’s. But if I can just ring and say goodnight to him and Jonty does the same and he doesn’t start asking loads of questions, then…” I trailed off. “Can I do that, please?”

  Carol could see how much I was struggling – as I fought back the tears and as she laid her hand on mine, I knew she’d fight for me. She said, “Okay, so we’ve got to get your dad to agree that he won’t ask any questions and he will accept that you are having a good time if you say you are, and Mum needs to make sure that you make the phone calls at the agreed time so you and Jonty don’t feel responsible for it. But if you want to ring Dad at any other time, then Mum has to agree that either you or Jonty can. Is that okay?” She made it sound really simple. She carried on reassuring me and insisting that it wasn’t my fault, that it was up to Mum and Dad to make things work, it wasn’t my responsibility to get everything running smoothly – Jonty and I had a right to spend quality time with both Mum and Dad. I knew she was right and it helped so much, I felt like this huge black cloud had moved away. I was on cloud nine but then Dad brought up about the phone call from Mum’s a few days later. “So you don’t want to chat to your old dad?” he said. “Oh well, I know when I’m not wanted.”

  “Dad, it’s not that, it’s just that…”

  “Oh come on, I know, when you’re with your mum, you haven’t got time for your old dad. Okay then, just a quick call but don’t forget that I want to hear both of you saying goodnight to me. I’m not going to be able to sleep without that.”

  Why did I always feel so guilty whenever Dad said anything to me about Mum, it just felt like it was all my fault again? In spite of what Carol had told me, I had this nagging voice ‘traitor, traitor, traitor’ booming in my ear. That bloody parrot.

  Chapter 14

  Two weeks later, Jonty and I had a fantastic weekend with Mum. We stayed until four o’clock in the afternoon on the Sunday and the phone call to Dad on Saturday night went okay. He didn’t ask questions so it was literally, “Yes, we’re having a great time and goodnight, love you, Dad.” And Jonty and I were all smiles. I listened carefully after we’d gone to bed but there were no phone calls between Mum and Dad, I breathed a sigh of relief and thought, Maybe it will be all right. Maybe from now on we’ll just come and see Mum and have a great time.

  I knew that Dad had already arranged for us to go to our uncle’s again for a few days during the Easter holidays but then as we were having tea one evening, he said, “Oh so I hear that you want to come back early from Uncle Paul and Aunty Zoe’s so that you can go to your mum’s. Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it? Cutting short our holiday. Can’t you see your mum some other time?”

  “But it’s Mum’s weekend,” I blurted out.

  “Yeah, and this is a special extra holiday with your dad, so what’s more important?”

  I could feel the colour rising in my face, my heart was thumping, a thousand pulses throbbing all over me. I looked down at my plate, pushed it away across the table spilling carrots and cottage pie everywhere. I stood up knocking my chair over and stormed out. “I hate you all!” I screamed, as I ran up the stairs.

  I lay sobbing on my bed so I did have to choose. I had to choose between Mum and Dad. No, no, no. A bit later on, Dad knocked and came in with a big smile on his face. He put his arms around me. “Oh, Hetty, I don’t want it to be so difficult for us but your mum makes you feel so guilty – I know how hard she tries to win you over. We’ve all been looking forward to a fun time with Uncle Paul and Aunty Zoe and your cousins, we had such a lot of fun at half term. You can see your mum the following weekend instead, she’ll just have to lay off pressurising you.” I sniffed and nodded. Anything would be better than choosing. It wasn’t until afterwards when I realised that it would mean that we would go three weeks without seeing Mum. “So you’ve dumped your mum – you’re a coward, Hetty.” That little voice droned on and on and I knew it was the truth.

  In spite of all that, the Easter break with the family was enormous fun. I loved spending time with my cousins and Jonty and I just had a fabulous time. I guessed Dad and my uncle and aunty talked at night when we were safely out of the way and supposedly asleep. It was hard to hear but if I crept on to the landing, the sound floa
ted up from the kitchen and I could just make out most of what they were saying. Of course, I wanted to hear. Jonty crept out of his room to listen too. It was quite late and our cousins, Zac and George, were fast asleep.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do about her,” I heard Dad say. “She’s a real bitch, screwing up the kids’ minds, twisting everything I do and say. It would be far better if she just disappeared.” My uncle seemed to be agreeing with him and then there were chinks of cups and glasses and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. It struck me then just how much my dad hated my mum. Nobody in the family seemed to like her and that made it so hard for Jonty and me. It just seemed so unfair. I hugged Jonty tight and took him back to his room. “Give Zobo a cuddle, you’ll be okay,” I told him reassuringly. He was my little brother and I had to look after him. If it was hard for me, I couldn’t imagine how confused he must be. At least I had my best friend, Suzie; he didn’t have anyone but me. I knew he’d pretended to his school mates that we all lived happily as a family. I guess that’s why when he went bowling or swimming with friends, he never asked if anyone could come home. I’d never thought about it before. Poor Jonty, he was living a lie – that’s the only way he could survive. I felt so guilty ’cos I knew I was often horrible to him, pushed him away when really I was all he’d got – the only one other than Carol – who realised how hard it was when your dad hated your mum and you loved your mum and your dad.

  Chapter 15

  That conversation between my dad and my uncle and aunt stayed with me for a long time. It niggled me and I guess it was the first time I’d actually begun to question what Dad said and thought. It felt really uncomfortable but I couldn’t let him know how I was feeling. His reaction if I stepped out of line was too scary to even contemplate. I had to push doubts about Dad to the back of my mind, forget about it. Contact continued on alternate weekends and somehow we managed the nightly phone call to Dad. Dad didn’t put too much pressure on us. I guess in a way, I was able to compartmentalise my time with Mum and Dad, just as Carol had suggested might help. I felt a sense of relief but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t last, something would change, I just knew Dad didn’t just give up, he always won.

  Sure enough a few weeks later out of the blue whilst we were sitting having tea, Dad said, “I bet you didn’t know that your mum’s got a boyfriend, did you?”

  “Well,” as he saw our surprised faces, “she has and something else you didn’t know was that the new fella has got two children. Let’s see now, one’s seven and one’s probably about five, and guess it won’t be long before he’ll be moving in with your mum and those children will be there with her full time. What do you reckon about that then, kids? You’re going to get pushed out, they’ll have your bedrooms, your stuff and your mum. I guess they’ll call her ‘Mum’ and they’ll have more of her than you do.” I couldn’t take in what he was saying.

  In a state of panic, I screamed, “Of course Mum hasn’t got a boyfriend!” I was furious but at the same time terrified. “Why do you say that, Dad?” As I fought back the tears, my heart was thumping like crazy. “No, no no, don’t let it be true!” my head screamed at me.

  “You ask her, but then again, she might be a bit wary about talking about him, but aha, rest assured, my words will come true.” He smiled, nodding his head. “Just you see.” And then, the conversation was over. Dad had a meeting to go to and I was left with his voice whirring around my head.

  “It’s not true, it’s not true,” I told myself, but then this nagging voice ‘Dad’s always right, you know he is’.

  Next time we saw Mum, I asked her. It just blurted out and I realised then it was much easier to bring things up with Mum than it was with Dad, I didn’t have to sort of um and ah and worry about how she’d react, I just came out with it straight. She looked surprised and then she put her arm around me and said, “Where’s that come from then? Yes, of course, I’ve made some new friends and I do have a life when you’re not with me, I go out with people. I don’t want to be all on my own all the time, but no I haven’t got a serious boyfriend and if I did have, I’d certainly talk to you and introduce you to him at the right time. Maybe one day I will, but I’m not ready for a new relationship yet.” She talked to me in a really grown up way and I respected that. She understood how worried I was, how threatened I felt and she wanted me to understand that whilst one day it might be right for her to have a new relationship, just as she said it would be right for my dad to find somebody else she wouldn’t do it behind my back and no one would ever replace Jonty and me. I felt reassured, much happier. I knew then that Mum’s love for Jonty and me was unconditional and forever, no strings attached, she’d always be there for us. Why was it always so much harder to make sense of what was going on when I was with my dad? Why did I always feel so confused about Mum when I was with him?

  The following week, I was due to go to Suzie’s house after school but then her mum met us saying, “I’m really, really sorry, Hetty, but Suzie’s brother has got a sickness bug and has had to come home from school and I can’t possibly take you to our house tonight. I’m so sorry. Will your aunty be in or your dad or anybody if I drop you off at your aunty’s?” I knew that Aunty Nicky was having her hair done; she’d told me so in the morning. She wouldn’t be back until about half past five, but I knew where the key was, we kept a spare one, it was hidden under a flowerpot in the conservatory. I assured Suzie’s Mum that I’d be absolutely fine and so she dropped me off at the entrance to our cul-de-sac and I ran off down the road.

  I was surprised to see Dad’s car parked on the drive. Odd, he should be at work. I can’t explain why I didn’t ring the bell but instead I went around and found the key and let myself in through the back door. I stopped dead. There was Dad’s jacket hanging on the bannister, but on top of it, there was another coat, a pink fluffy one. It certainly wasn’t Aunty Nicky’s and there was a pair of high heeled boots on the floor like they’d just been kicked off. They weren’t Aunty Nicky’s either. Cold water ran down my back; my heart thumped, what was going on? I don’t know what I expected and I don’t know why I didn’t just shout out ‘Dad’ but I didn’t. I crept up the stairs. It was very quiet, but then I heard sort of moaning noises coming from Dad’s bedroom. I stopped, rooted to the spot. The door was open just a chink and I could see… I covered my eyes and then opened them again… I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was my dad, he’d got his shirt on but he didn’t have any trousers and there was his pink bottom waving up and down and there was somebody else there. It was a woman I didn’t know with long blonde hair. He was straddled over her and she was moaning. I’d had sex lessons at school, I knew what they were doing. It was gross, it couldn’t be happening. They were having sex. My Dad was having sex. I felt sick, I felt ill.

  I crept into my bedroom. Somehow, I still managed to keep quiet. I pushed the door shut very quietly and I threw myself on the bed and covered my head with the duvet and sobbed. I cried my eyes out. How could Dad possibly do that when he’d been the one to scare us so much with the thought of Mum having a boyfriend? I hated him. I really, really hated him.

  I must have been there about half an hour before I crawled out from under my duvet. I glanced in the mirror and saw how blotchy my face looked. I needed to go and sort myself out before my aunty came home. She’d ask me all sorts of awkward questions otherwise. I listened, all was very quiet. I crept onto the landing. Still silence. Dad’s door was closed. I crept across the landing to Aunty Nicky’s bedroom. It was on the front and I peeped out of the window. Dad’s car had gone. So, they’d left. I splashed water on my face and got some books out and strewed them across the floor so it looked like I’d been working and then lay on the bed. I couldn’t concentrate, I just lay there thinking. Well, trying not to think really ’cos it was too painful to see the truth about my dad.

  When Aunty Nicky came back, she shouted up to me. I went running down. She looked at me and as I was explaining about Suzie’s brother, I c
ould tell that she was wondering what else was up but she didn’t say anything. She just gave me that quizzical look that grownups have when they think they know and you can’t keep secrets from them.

  Later on, it was just before tea time I heard Dad come in with his usual cheery greeting. He ruffled my hair and flung his arms around me. I froze, a panicky feeling spreading over me. I loved him like anything and I didn’t want that vivid image of him and that woman filling my head. During tea, he asked me about my day like he usually did. “Cor! Lucky you finishing at four o’clock, I’ve been slaving away, tied to my desk all day.” I stared at him, I couldn’t quite believe what I’d heard, but then of course he wasn’t going to tell me. It was his secret, his dirty little secret. A bit of me wanted to shout, ‘that’s a lie, you had that woman here’ but of course, I didn’t. I pushed it to the back of my mind and I knew that I never would challenge him. I couldn’t tell a soul what I’d seen. And why not? Because if I did, he’d be so angry that I might lose him. He wouldn’t want me just as he hadn’t wanted Mum, not if I wasn’t his little girl, his angel. And that was so scary I couldn’t contemplate it, so of course his secret was safe with me.

  However, something changed after that day. It was like I had another parrot on my other shoulder. A parrot sitting there saying ‘don’t trust him, don’t trust him, he’s a liar and a cheat’. It felt like I was on a giant seesaw. I’d slide down and there I’d be with my mum having a fantastic time with her and Jonty and then it would bang down the other side and I’d be with Dad and I’d love to feel his protective arms around me and I relived all the fun times we had and how much he cared for us, how much he wanted to keep us safe. I just didn’t know where I was. I felt like I’d been squeezed out of myself, like toothpaste that wouldn’t go back in the tube. I just didn’t know what to do but I know the strongest feelings I had were that my dad’s love was conditional. I had to love him completely or he’d stop loving me, and that was unbearable to even contemplate. Somehow, I lost my sparkle, sort of went flat. I just went through the motions each day but the bright, sparkly, little girl that used to be there had somehow melted away.