by Pat Barrow
Chapter 32
We had a good time at my uncle’s, we always did. It was great being with our cousins but I wanted to get back home. I couldn’t wait to see if there was a letter from Mum, surely there would be. I tried not to let Dad know that I was so keen but I couldn’t stop myself rushing in and rifling through the pile of post on the mat. “Hey, whoa, steady on there,” Dad said, as he snatched the pile from my hands.
“But I wanted to see –”
“Haa, remember what we said, Hetty? I need to read any letter that comes from your mum and then of course I’ll let you have it. But we need to make sure she isn’t writing stuff that will upset you – you know how she plays the victim – ‘poor little me’. I have to protect you from getting hurt.”
I guessed that the green envelope with Mum’s distinctive spidery writing on it was the one I so desperately wanted. I craned my neck to see if it was a Newcastle or Whitley Bay postmark but Dad covered it with his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll pass any letter on to you after I’ve checked it over.”
“But, but –”
“No but, young lady, it’s what’s best – you know that. I have to make sure you are safe. We can’t trust that mum of yours; you know that as well as anyone.”
I didn’t dare argue with him, I couldn’t risk making him angry but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I fell out with Jonty a couple of times that evening, I wanted my letter. It wasn’t fair, but then of course Dad was just protecting me – or was he? Conflicting thoughts tormented me. It was just before bedtime when Dad finally handed Mum’s letter to me. “Oh well, she seems to be settling herself in. But don’t forget, I want to read what you write back. I don’t want you writing a load of rubbish to her. Remember I’ve got your best interests at heart, young lady, and I know you sometimes get a bit carried away. Don’t be too soft on her, she’s the one who’s left you; you know that and now she’s gadding around up there and having a good time. I doubt she has much time to think of us down here.”
I ran upstairs with my letter. The tears ran down my face as I read it, it was like Mum was in the room with me. I could hear her voice and feel her arms around me. I shut my eyes and there she was right there with me. In her letter, she told me all about her new job, describing people she worked with and what she was doing and how lovely it was at Whitley Bay. She was sure Jonty and I would enjoy beachcombing for shells and even fossils and at low tide, we could walk across the causeway to St Mary’s lighthouse. Her descriptions were so vivid that I could picture it all even though I’d never been. ‘Only a couple more weeks and then I’ll be seeing you both and we’ll have a whole week together to relax and have fun’. She was counting off the days.
I tried to share her excitement but I had this nagging, nagging doubt, would our holiday in Whitley Bay even happen? Dad never mentioned Mum and Jonty only mentioned her to me when we were alone, never when Dad was around. It was like she was fading away. Maybe Dad would forget all about our planned holiday or knowing how much he hated Mum, he might refuse to take us. I wanted to share all my worries and fears with Mum but there wasn’t much point if Dad was going to censor my letter so what I did write was pretty sterile and stilted. I gave it to Dad and his comment: “Mmm, seems like you’re getting the message, Hetty, it’s good to see you’re not being quite as kind to your mum as you usually are, you’re usually all soft and sentimental and so easily won over by her whining and playing the victim. Perhaps at last you’re seeing through her and realise the games she plays.” I was horrified, of course I wasn’t feeling any different about Mum, but I couldn’t find the words to protest and I guess my silence reinforced his belief that I shared his twisted, hateful view of Mum.
The night before the planned visit, I was so excited but scared, oh so scared. Jonty had been umming and ahhing all the week saying he wasn’t going and then he was. He had very begrudgingly packed his case. Dad had left it up to us to sort our stuff. He didn’t buy us any new clothes and he didn’t even check that everything we needed was washed. So I sorted it out as best as I could for me and for Jonty. I guessed if we ran short, Mum would get us some new things. I longed for Dad to say something, anything about our week with Mum but I waited in vain he said nothing other than to tell us he’d miss us and to make sure we really wanted to go. No words of encouragement, nothing to reassure Jonty.
Dad had begrudgingly agreed to drive to the Hartshead Moor Services car park that Carole had suggested even though he reminded us twice the night before the holiday that he was actually driving further than Mum which demonstrated how kind and considerate he was even though Mum had chosen to desert us. He had been quite emphatic that although he’d do it this time, he and Mum would have to reconsider arrangements next time. I’d looked up how long the journey would take. I was pretty convinced it would be nearly three hours but Dad insisted that we’d do it in far less time. There wasn’t any point arguing with him. I couldn’t win.
The next day, I was up bright and early and unusually, Dad was late coming downstairs and then Jonty was in a really grumpy mood and nothing would make him hurry. I wanted to scream ‘please, please I want to see my mum’ but of course I kept silent willing them both to be ready to leave on time. Just as we were about to get in the car, Jonty decided he needed the loo again and that was another ten minutes’ delay, I was fuming. And then, blow me if Dad didn’t decide that he needed to make an urgent phone call. By then, I was seething inside but I was also so scared, what if Mum got there and we weren’t there? She might just go, she might not wait. ‘Of course she’d wait’ my little voice told me. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Hetty’. Dad normally drove fast but this time he stuck rigidly to the speed limit. In response to my ‘Dad aren’t you driving slowly?’ he tapped the speedometer and said, “It’s a 70 mile an hour limit, Hetty. I’m not going to break the law, am I?”
“But you –”
“But I what?”
“Aaaa…” I never finished what I was going to say. There was no point – Dad put some music on so there was no need to talk. Jonty was engrossed in his Game Boy.
We got to the car park almost twenty minutes late. “There she is, there she is.” I was really excited and all my fears vanished and my heart was thumping wildly with excitement.
“Yes, I can see her rubbish old car,” Dad remarked. Mum had parked on the far side of the car park and although the car park was nearly empty, Dad still chose a spot on the opposite side.
“But… Dad…”
“If she wants you to come and stay, she’ll have to come over and fetch you, won’t she?” he smiled.
Jonty slid down in the seat. “Come on, Jonty,” I said, “get your stuff, let’s go.”
“Aha, whoa there you two. I’m not having you running around a busy car park, that wouldn’t be safe. Your mum can come over here when she’s ready and then –”
“I’m not going!” shouted Jonty, immersed in his Game Boy, “I don’t want to.”
Dad’s response scared me. “It’s entirely up to you and Hetty whether you go or not. I’m not stopping you but equally I’m not forcing either of you.” Carol’s promises that the judge had made it clear Dad had to make it work were a joke, as usual he’d do what he wanted. He unfolded his newspaper and began reading it, leaving us sitting there in the back of the car. There was no sign of Mum.
“Please, please Mum, come over please,” I silently begged her, wiping the tears from my cheek. Then I saw her – she’d been to the loo and was running across the car park. She must have guessed that Dad would choose a spot miles away to park but his silver BMW was pretty distinctive.
Dad had pressed the child locks so I couldn’t even open the door. “Dad, Dad, let me get out, please, please,” I begged. Reluctantly, he pressed the button. I leapt out. Mum had got a big smile on her face and she held her arms out and I ran into them. I smelt that lovely mum smell as her arms closed around me. It was magic, absolute magic. But then, I pushed away. Panic over came me, I was scared, Dad was w
atching me. I couldn’t let him see how much I cared about Mum, he’d be angry and then, and then… I pushed those thoughts out of my head. I turned back to the car. “Come on, Jonty,” I said, “come on.”
“I don’t want to go,” he mouthed through the window and dropped his head. But then, he looked up and saw Mum, his stony face quivered – there were tears in his eyes.
“Why don’t we all go and get a cup of tea,” said Mum brightly.
“Only if my dad can come,” said Jonty. “I can’t leave my dad, I want my dad.”
“Please Dad, please, please. Let’s all go to the café and have a drink,” I implored. It was worth a try – anything to get Jonty on side.
“Oomph,” Dad sighed. “I suppose I’ve got no choice. Is that okay, Jonty? It’s up to you, mate. There’s no pressure on you.” Of course Dad wasn’t going to encourage Jonty, I knew that but I wanted it to be different.
It took ages for Dad to get out of the car and for Jonty to follow him. Mum and I walked ahead. She had her arm through mine and I felt a strange mix of delight and discomfort, conscious that Dad was behind us. We got to the café and I watched Dad and Jonty go to a table over by the window whilst I went with Mum to the counter. I knew what they’d want, diet coke for Jonty and a cappuccino for Dad. We took the drinks over and Mum tried her best to make bright conversation. Dad barely spoke and although Jonty didn’t exactly ignore her, he wasn’t particularly forthcoming. It felt so awkward. I just willed Dad to go so that both of us could go off with Mum but of course, our bags were still in the car. Mum chatted about Whitley Bay and was clearly trying to capture Jonty’s attention. He looked half-interested but there was no way he was going to let Dad believe he was really bothered about seeing Mum. I was angry with him but at the same time, I felt desperately sorry; it was hard for me and I realised it must be a million times harder for him.
Eventually, we went back to the car, Mum made several attempts to talk directly to Jonty. First he said yes, he’d come but only for two days, he wanted Dad to come up and fetch him and of course Dad refused. So then he said he’d come next time but he didn’t want to come this time. I wanted Mum to try and persuade him, I wanted her to shout at Dad and tell him that it wasn’t fair, but she didn’t. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, “Okay then, well if that’s what you want. You know how much I love you, Jonty; I just want us all to be happy.” She just seemed to roll over and give in. I hated it, I hated her, I hated what was going on but said nothing. I just grabbed my bag and gave Dad an enormous hug and then ruffled Jonty’s hair. “I’ll see you next Saturday, okay then?”
Dad’s parting shot was, “Well, you know where I am, Hetty, if you need to come home earlier, make sure you tell your mum and ring me and I’ll meet you. Don’t forget. I know how hard this will be for you and how brave you are.”
Brave! Hard! What did he know about it? He didn’t understand at all. But I loved him and needed him and saying goodbye was much harder than I thought it would be. As we walked back to Mum’s car, Dad swooped by. There was no sign of Jonty, he must have been hiding in the back engrossed in his Game Boy again. I guessed he’d be really sad and just as confused as I was. But at least I could relax and just be me with my mum. I knew we’d have a fantastic time, I just knew. But I also knew that when I went back to Dad, I’d make out that it was difficult being with Mum and I hadn’t really enjoyed it. Is that what it was always going to be like from now on? Is that how we’d be for the next few years until I was old enough to make my own mind up about when I went and saw either of them? Is this what they’d done to me?
Chapter 33
Although Mum’s house was small, in the middle of a terrace it was just off the sea front. It was absolutely fantastic being two minutes from the promenade, then down the steps and on the beach, the soft sand, the rock pools and the waves rolling and breaking. Mum and I spent ages searching amongst the rock pools beachcombing, picnicking and walking along the shore to the north side and St Mary’s Island. When the tide was out, we walked across the causeway to the lighthouse. It was magical and Mum knew so much about the area, including the best fish and chip shop and who sold the biggest ice creams. We walked into the town centre trying out cafés and browsing around the shops. It was a bustling little place. I guess in winter it would be a bit dead but with the summer visitors, I loved it. We explored further afield too driving up the coast to Bamford with its castle and sand dunes and we had a great day out at the castle and walkways at Alnwick. We went into Newcastle on the Metro and I loved it all – I was so happy for my mum – she seemed so different – relaxed and more confident like the old mum I remembered from a long time ago.
There wasn’t time to talk about Jonty or Dad, or even much about Welshpool or Shrewsbury until the last night. Mum was sitting on the bed as I was reluctantly packing my things ready to go the next morning when suddenly she burst out with, “I’ve been looking at the grammar schools around here, they’re really good, Hetty, why don’t you think about coming and living here?”
I looked at her aghast. “But Mum, Dad wouldn’t want to, he wouldn’t want to move again.”
“I don’t mean all of you, I mean just you. Why don’t you come and live here with me?”
“But, but Mum,” I panicked. A bit of me wanted to say yes, yes, of course I will, but then the image of Dad flashed before my eyes, a furiously angry Dad who’d no longer love me. “But Mum, that’s not fair, you shouldn’t ask me that. It’s not fair, it’s not fair. I hate you, I hate you.” The words just spilled out, the anger, the frustration, the fear. Mum tried to put it right, but somehow the spell was broken. I pushed her away rejecting her hugs and kisses and with a sinking feeling, I knew then that it was never going to be the same between Mum and me. Life would always be a see-saw with Mum or Dad fighting to be up on top and watching the other one crashing down to the ground and of course I knew that it would always be Mum thudding to the ground because Dad couldn’t lose, he always made sure he was the winner.
The next day, we arrived at the service station before Dad. We sat in an awkward silence, I could see that Mum was fighting back the tears and wasn’t surprised when suddenly she blurted out, “I’m going to try and come down in September for a weekend and then hopefully I’ll be able to see you. It’s such a long time ’til the October half term and I don’t think I can wait that long, Hetty.”
“That’d be great Mum, that’d be great.” I really meant it. I missed her so much but it was just Dad – he got in the way. I was relieved she didn’t mention anything more about me living at Whitley Bay. I flung my arms around her and we hugged. “Oh Mum, I miss you so much. I wish you’d never moved away. I know it was hard but it’s so hard you not being in Welshpool or Shrewsbury anymore.”
“I know, my pet, there just wasn’t a perfect answer, but come on, we’ve had a great time and I can’t tell you how sorry I am asked you about coming to live here. I know that you can’t, whatever you really want doesn’t count, your dad just wouldn’t let you go, it just wouldn’t work. I’m sorry I made it even harder for you.”
She hugged me close and then we saw Dad’s car swooping into the car park. “Quick, quick.” I broke free and fumbled for the door latch. We walked across the tarmac and Dad made a big show and fuss of me flinging his arms around me and sweeping me off the ground. It was embarrassing really and I could see Mum standing awkwardly alongside. Jonty was pleased to see me again, but he seemed tongue tied around Mum, I guess he felt guilty because he hadn’t been to stay and no doubt he’d missed her just as much as I did – he just couldn’t let on. “Come on, we can’t hang around,” said Dad, “we need to be off. It’s a long drive.” Mum went to hug me but I resisted, instead giving her a small peck on the cheek and then we were gone.
Dad didn’t even mention my trip he was too busy describing in detail exciting activities he and Jonty had enjoyed. I guessed he wanted me to be jealous and to think I’d missed out. What really hurt was how he kept making such a b
ig fuss of Jonty. A bit of me panicked, convinced that Dad didn’t love me as much because I’d been to Mum’s and he was punishing me ’cos I’d been disloyal to him. I knew it wasn’t fair but I didn’t want to let myself blame him, I didn’t want to think badly of him, I didn’t want to get angry. Why? Because it was too dangerous ’cos I feared losing him.
We knew that for the rest of the holidays, Dad was taking time off work or else working at home so he could always be around for us. But we never expected what came next. I’d only been back a couple of days when he suddenly announced that Amy was coming to stay. “Amy? Who’s Amy?” we both chorused.
“Well, she’s a friend of mine and she’s coming to stay for a few days, she’s really nice, you’ll love her.”
