by Pat Barrow
That was easier said than done. My euphoric moment vanished as quickly as it came replaced by a sense of foreboding and panic. I shall never forget my phone call to Dad that grey November morning two weeks before the end of that first term. “Dad, Dad.” I attempted to start the conversation several times but I couldn’t get the words out and of course phone calls were always dominated by Dad. And then, it all came out in a rush. “I’m so sorry but I’m leaving.”
There was silence and then, “Leaving where? Don’t you like halls? Have you got a flat share?”
“No, it’s the course, Dad. I can’t be a doctor, Dad.” His response was mind-blowing.
He screamed down the phone, “What the hell are you saying, Hetty?! What do you mean? You’re leaving – of course you aren’t leaving, you fool. What are you talking about? Have you had a breakdown? Are you pregnant? I’ll get the little sod if you are.” He ranted and raved and I could visualise his red angry face – spitting and spluttering as he paced the room.
Eventually, I blurted out, “I’m so sorry, Dad, but it’s not what I want to do.”
The penny dropped that I was serious. Then the silence was broken as Dad hissed, “You ungrateful little bitch. After all I’ve done for you and that’s how you repay me. You chuck it all back in my face. You’re quite happy to bring shame upon your family. It’s all about you and what you want, you’re selfish just like your mum. Has she had a hand in this? Just like that scheming bitch. How on earth can I walk into my club and tell them that my daughter has failed? That she’s walked out of medical school because she can’t hack it. You miserable little wretch. Well, don’t come back here. I wipe my hands off you if you do this to me it’s the end so think very carefully, my dear Het.” His sarcastic tone cut to my core, as he slammed the phone down.
I shook and quivered, chain-smoked and drank endless cups of strong black coffee and of course, I didn’t sleep at all that night. I looked a complete wreck by the next morning and I realised I hadn’t eaten anything since early the previous day. Weak and shaking, I could barely stand. Parveen’s knock on my door was such a relief. She hugged me, held me tight and I could feel myself relax just a little. “Come on, Hetty, this is probably the biggest step you’ve ever taken in your life. It’s not just deciding not to be a doctor, but you’re breaking free from a tyrannical father ’cos that’s what you need to do ’cos you can’t lead your own life unless you do.” So wise, so strong. For a second, I envied Parveen and her loving, normal family.
“What am I going to do?” I pleaded desperately to her. “Where shall I go? Dad’s chucked me out. He hates me, he’s disowned me.”
“Oh come on, Het, pull yourself together, you can get yourself a job, and why don’t you ring your mum?”
“Mum? Well, she’ll just turn around and say ‘I told you so, Het’.”
“Really? From what you’ve told me, the love that your mum’s got for you is unconditional not with a million strings attached like it is with your dad. She’ll be there for you when you need her – like right now – go on – ring her. Trust me Het, just do it.”
It was still only half past eight in the morning but I rang Mum’s mobile. I could hardly speak and I blurted out, “Mum, Mum, it’s Het. I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Leaving what?” She sounded perplexed, anxious.
“I’m leaving Leeds, I can’t do the course. I can’t be a doctor.” It all came out in a jumbled muddle, but Mum got the crux of what I was saying straight away and she seemed to sense that I just couldn’t make any more decisions or plans. I needed someone else to take over. “Sort out a few things, get around to the station and get on the train and I’ll meet you in Newcastle. Send me a message to say which train you’re on and what time it will get in.”
“See, I told you,” said Parveen. “Trust her, she’s there for you, Het.”
Parveen came with me to the station. Of course she did, even though we hadn’t known each other for long she was a true friend just like Suzie, somebody I could count on. I never thought I deserved it but she was there for me. She helped me to pack a small overnight bag suggesting I come back to clear my room and finish things off properly before the end of term. She thrust an apple in my hand and a bottle of water. I’d calmed down a bit but I knew I just needed time – time to work out how to be myself. That was a daunting prospect, so scary but remarkably freeing, and I sensed a glimmer of hope in the mistiness of my thoughts.
Mum must have arranged the day off straightaway because she was there at the station waiting for me as I slowly clambered down from the train. I was in a sort of daze. I felt terribly tearful and I was like that for the next couple of days. Mum didn’t try to encourage me to talk, she didn’t put any pressure on me at all, she was just around but in the background. She didn’t present me with meals, but simply told me she had stocked the fridge and cupboards with stuff I might like and said I could help myself to what I wanted. She’d be going to work but I could ring any time. Wise Mum, she knew how to begin to ease my pain and confusion.
Suzie was at university in Manchester doing a law degree. I always knew that she’d make a good solicitor, her ambition was to go into family work. She’d seen enough wrecked families and no doubt ours was the prime example and that had convinced her that was where her future lay. We had a long chat on the phone on my second night at Mum’s, although it was mainly her talking to me and me sobbing. My tears were endless as I sobbed, “I’ve lost my dad, Suzie, I feel so lost, I feel like a little boat bobbing around on the ocean with no anchor and no compass – I’m just – well – I’m abandoned – a wreck.”
“Ah but you’re going to sail to far off places and have a wonderful life!” she retorted. “Come on, Het, I think we all knew that sooner or later, you’d have to break free from your dad. He couldn’t have you trapped forever any more than he could your mum. She got out, but it cost her, Het – he made her pay.”
“But Suzie, he doesn’t want anything to do with me,” I sobbed.
“If that’s how he feels, you’re better off without him.” Better off without him? How could that be? ‘You know it’s true, Hetty, you just haven’t the guts to admit it’ taunted my little voice.
“But what about Jonty? He’ll turn Jonty against me and Jonty will hate me too.”
Suzie was down to earth and realistic as always. She insisted, “You and Jonty have a solid relationship – you care about each other – he’s not going to let you go, Het. But I think it’s best not to think about all that at the moment, simply get in touch with Jonty and then talk to him and when you feel up to it let him hear your side of the story. He’s sixteen Het, he’s not just going to lap everything up that your dad says.”
“Well, I did. For years. I’ve only just stopped doing it and I’m eighteen.”
“Yes, you’re eighteen with the whole of your life ahead of you and it’s time you had some fun and had some time for yourself. You need to celebrate, Het. Your dad’s not going to pull your strings anymore and yes, you’re going to have to get used to that. It’ll be hard at times, you won’t believe you can do it, but you will, I’ve got faith in you, Het.”
“Well, I haven’t got much faith in myself,” I retorted.
“Look, why don’t we spend some time together? We’ve got the Christmas holidays coming up, either come to Welshpool and stay or if that’s too difficult, maybe I could come to Whitley Bay and stay with you and your mum there.”
It seemed such a tempting idea, I needed Suzie, I’d always needed her just like I’d always needed my mum and now I was overwhelmed to realise that they’d both silently been sitting in the background waiting for when I called. Maybe I wasn’t a complete worthless failure. I had to tell myself that, I knew deep down that I could rebuild my life but getting used to not having my dad was unimaginable, it burnt a hole in my heart. But I knew if there was one thing I’d got, then that was will power. I’d denied myself the things I’d really liked to eat for years and that hadn’t been anythi
ng other than agonisingly painful it had taken an iron will to sustain, so I knew that I really could succeed in rebuilding my life. Mum was going to be there behind me and Suzie and Parveen would never let me down. Maybe life wasn’t quite as bleak as it had seemed even two days ago, but God was I tired. I was so, so exhausted. I just wanted to sleep, to sleep without being tormented with nightmares of me frantically spinning and falling into the gnashing blood red jaws of my monstrous dad, waking up sweating and shaking, wild eyed and scared. I longed for a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 40
Mum reminded me later in the week that I needed to go back to uni and finalise matters and clear my room. “Come on, Hetty, it’s almost the end of term, you can’t put it off forever.” I knew it was something I’d been avoiding and I felt bad because I’d ignored a couple of calls from Parveen. She’d been so good to me and now well, somehow it was easier just pretending that part of my life no longer existed. But Mum was right and so when she suggested that her friend Simon, who owned a builder’s yard, had offered to drive a van over to Leeds with us to collect my belongings and to clear my room, I could hardly say no.
Almost as an afterthought, Mum added, “And you perhaps ought to try and speak to your dad.” Panic, panic.
“I can’t, I can’t, Mum, I really can’t. He’s disowned me, he went berserk when I tried to explain. It isn’t about me it’s all about him and he doesn’t want me anymore. It’s so unfair, Mum, I just miss him so much.” I was scared that if I rang, he’d continue to reject my calls, reinforcing that he really didn’t want me and that I no longer mattered or in fact even existed in his life. I’d even avoided speaking to Jonty, scared that he too wouldn’t want me. It was this rejection thing, I couldn’t handle it, I really couldn’t. Sensing my panic, Mum offered to speak to Dad for me. “No, no I can’t expect you do that,” I retorted. I’d realised that would make the situation even worse. He already believed that Mum had put me up to leaving uni so if she started to ring now. Oh, my mind boggled at the thought of how he’d react. He’d be incandescent with rage, so I chickened out hoping, just hoping that one day he’d forgive me and want me again.
Simon struck me as a decent sort of bloke and it was good to see Mum happy and relaxed in his company. It had been such a long time since I’d seen her laughing. We set off at the crack of dawn and of course as usual, I’d skipped breakfast mumbling some inaudible excuse as to why I hadn’t eaten anything. En route Si suggested that we stopped at a service station and got a bite to eat. My heart flipped. God what was I going to do if he presented me with some enormous plate of food that I couldn’t eat. I sort of mumbled, “Actually I don’t travel very well, I think I’ll just have a black coffee.” An exasperated look fleetingly crossed my mum’s face as she turned away. She just didn’t know how to handle my refusal to eat. I’d always had such a hearty appetite and now I just picked at bits and pieces. Mum and Si tucked into a hearty full English breakfast. I was starving, the smell of the bacon made my mouth water, I shut my eyes. I’d have given anything to take a bite but I couldn’t, I couldn’t let myself. I couldn’t bear the thought of everything spinning out of control. I had to hold on, hold on tight.
Parveen met us at uni and she helped pack my stuff into the boxes we’d brought with us. I didn’t have that much, and loading it into Si’s van was soon done. We all went to the coffee bar down the road. Once again, I heard myself saying I didn’t really fancy anything to eat. I saw the look that was exchanged between my mum and Parveen. They knew, they both knew what was happening. We left with me promising to keep in touch with Parveen. It had been hard saying cheerio to the few people that I had got to know and in particular a couple of the tutors I’d really liked. It sort of finalised things. I realised with a degree of sadness that this slammed the door shut. This was it. I definitely wasn’t going to be a doctor.
Later that evening, I plucked up the courage to ring my dad’s number and although I was bitterly disappointed, I suppose I wasn’t surprised when it instantly went to voicemail. “Leave your number and I’ll get back to you…” Unless of course that number was mine, I thought bitterly. I tried again a bit later on and the same thing happened. I rang Jonty. He didn’t answer either. I plunged into a desperate bottomless pit of despair. Wasn’t anybody ever going to speak to me again? Did it mean that Jonty and Dad were united in their belief that I’d let them down, I’d let myself down, I’d failed myself and failed them. But then, surprise, surprise Jonty rang me. He was full of apologies explaining that he’d been busy when I’d rung before. It was only later when he elaborated pointing out that it had been tricky, Dad had been around and he didn’t dare to speak to me whilst he was there. He was reluctant to say anything about Dad other than that he’d been absolutely furious about me ditching uni and now refused point blank to allow my name to be even mentioned. Jonty was keeping his head down, he needed Dad, well financially at any rate. He wanted to get good grades and go to uni and his plan was that he too could be free of Dad then. But in the meantime, he’d play along because that made things easier for him. “It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to have a relationship with you, Het. I will but I have to keep it secret. I can’t let Dad know.” I wanted to scream ‘traitor, traitor why are you cheating me?!’ But who could blame him? He couldn’t afford to lose Dad and Dad’s love was conditional – follow my rules or you get nothing. Jonty had seen me ousted and of course, he wasn’t going to risk the same fate. As long as he was still there for me, then did it really matter? I reassured him that I understood but deep down I felt a piercing stab of envy. I was madly jealous of the relationship he had with my dad, the dad I’d loved and adored and idolised and who I still needed and still wanted and who Jonty didn’t really even care about. But I wasn’t prepared to sell my own soul for him like he wanted. There was no going back and a bit of me knew there would be no reconciliation – I’d had my chance and blown it.
That awful realisation was reinforced when there was a knock at Mum’s door a few days later. “Courier service for Miss Taylor, sign here please.” He thrust the mobile handset towards me for my electronic signature and then hauled a large container through the doorway. My heart sank as the door closed and I saw the sender’s name and address in block capitals. Mr Jeremy Taylor followed by our Cardiff address.
I knew instantly as I cut the box open that it contained all my belongings – all my life heaped together in one big muddle. Mum returned from work with a cheery ‘hi there’ to find me with a tear stained face pouring over a heap of books, clothes, toys and jewellery. “Oh Het, my love,” she whispered, as she hugged me tight.
“I just can’t do it, Mum. I can’t sort it out, I don’t know where to start. It’s my whole life just…” I didn’t finish, I couldn’t. I felt so wretched, so unwanted.
“Never mind, my love. I’ll sort it all out and then you can go through it when the time’s right for you.” Good old Mum – always there for me. We hugged again and I instantly felt that bit better and so thankful for having a mum who cared.
It was much later when Jonty explained that Dad had wanted to clear my room by taking everything to the tip and he’d persuaded Dad to courier my stuff to me. Dad had relented but he had insisted that it all went the next day so Jonty hadn’t time to do more than to bundle everything he knew mattered to me in the box Dad gave him. “I’m so sorry Het, it was the best I could do.” I knew it was but I struggled with my conflicting emotions, grateful to Jonty but immensely sad at Dad’s callousness.
Not surprisingly, Mum and I rubbed along okay; we’d always got on well and she was out at work each weekday and was cautiously building herself a more active social life. She’d joined a local drama group and at weekends, often went walking with Si and a group of like-minded enthusiasts. It suited me that she wasn’t around a lot. I needed time to think and I guess to recover but when Mum and I were together, we enjoyed each other’s company and it was great to gradually get to know her again.
She
didn’t put any pressure on me but as Christmas crept nearer, she dropped a few hints that perhaps I ought to take up Suzie’s offer and invite her to come up before the Christmas holidays were over. And then perhaps almost as an afterthought, she asked if I had any plans for the future. I looked at her panic-stricken, I just had no idea. I knew I didn’t want to be a doctor but I’d never even considered any other ambition. Throughout my adolescence, I never had an opportunity to be me and to even think about other possibilities. Dad had always assumed – no, demanded – that I’d fulfil his dreams. Having to consider the future for myself, although it was liberating was also terrifying and so, so difficult. I took Mum’s advice and invited Suzie to come and stay. Suzie understood that me visiting her was too scary to contemplate because of the outside chance of bumping into Dad if he happened to be visiting my aunty and Uncle and we made plans for her to travel up by train.
Christmas loomed close and I knew that somehow I had to get through the festivities when most of the time I felt in the pit of despair. Mum casually remarked she had been invited to Si’s for Christmas. Of course, it had crossed my mind whether this was more than just a friendship but Mum assured me that it was early days and she wasn’t committing herself to anything. She looked sad as she stressed that wasn’t ready for that and how it would take her a long time to trust a relationship again. If I wanted to come too and join the party, everyone would be delighted. She explained that Si was a widower and he didn’t have any children. But his brother and his brother’s wife were driving up from Birmingham so there’d be quite a merry household.
