by Sarah Hope
Feeling the familiar apprehension rise up to my throat as I look at her I wonder who she will be or in which time she will be trapped in. Will she be Mum, my rock who has always promised to be there for me or will she be one of her many former selves from the past? Please have recovered from your funny turn Mum, please.
She turns around, sensing my presence and gives me one of her lopsided smiles; she’s Mum.
‘Lynny, how long have you been standing there?’
‘Not long Mum,’ smiling, relief floods through me. I really, really needed her to be herself. She’s the only person who can help me try to make sense of Ste’s performance yesterday.
‘How’s the kids? Are they here?’
‘Charlie is, yes. Mandy had to meet up with Kayleigh in town for some shopping or boy gazing. One or the other.’
‘Ah that’s teenagers for you. You were the same. Always out. Always important missions to complete,’ Mum laughs gently, remembering my teenage antics.
‘Um,’ I shrug, I’m sure I was never as awkward or as stroppy as Mandy seems to be these days. ‘Well they both went to sleepovers last night. Charlie went and stayed over at Jack’s house and Mandy spent the night at Holly’s.’
‘Oh that was nice then. Gave you and Steve some time alone together. What did you do? Go to the movies or have a nice dinner at home?’
‘Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He was really odd and not himself at all.’ How I can broach the subject of Ste threatening to leave? I mean if he comes back tonight, and I’m sure he will, tail between his legs, then I would have made Mum worry for nothing at all. But on the other hand I really, really do need someone to talk to. To get it all off my chest.
‘Oh you know what Steve’s like. I’ve always said he can be prone to sulking. Something’s probably happened at work. You’ve got to remember it’s a high pressured job. He has a lot of responsibility at the hospital. He’s just like your father, he used to bring work problems home all the time. Unfortunately as a wife it’s your job to either put up with it or get to the root of the problem. You just need to ride it out and sooner or later he’ll snap out of it.’
‘No it wasn’t just problems at work. This was serious,’ Maybe I will tell her, she might be able to give me some advice, ‘He, well, he...’
Just at that moment I hear Charlie’s unmistakeable laughter echo down the corridor outside and know my time alone with Mum has come to an end. It’s probably a good thing anyway, Mum doesn’t need my worries to distress her any more.
Anyway I do know in my heart that it’s all a big mistake. Mum’s probably right. Ste was probably just stressed out with something at work and took it out on me because I’m the closest person to him. He probably just got carried away. When he realises that it’s not me that’s the enemy he’ll come straight back home and apologise.
If he was serious he would have collected his things by now anyway. I’m just getting myself in a state over nothing. Besides, Mum doesn’t need to be bothered by our bickering.
As soon as Charlie and Betty arrive at the door Mum’s familiar features transform in front of my eyes. I can’t explain it but her face changes and I know she’s slipped back to another time again. I’ve studied her time and again when she slips back and I am only too aware of the tell-tale signs now. It’s mainly to do with her eyes; they lose their shine and become unfocussed slightly. Depending on which memory or time she is reliving her lips either purse up tightly or curl up into a smile.
Today, as soon as she claps eyes on Betty her jaw sets and her eyes narrow.
‘Phillip, Phillip come here quickly,’ Mum extends her arms to Charlie as if to protect him from Betty. Phillip is my cousin and she often confuses Charlie with him.
‘Watch out for this one,’ she continues jabbing her walking stick in poor Betty’s direction. ‘She’s been at it again, she has, pinching my poor Lynny’s toys. A grown woman picking on a five year old, wouldn’t you know?’
Mum turns her attention to me and gives me a grim look. ‘Did you go leaving my front door open again, Val? I’ve told you about that, letting in all the waifs and strays. It just won’t do. You need to start thinking for yourself, you do. How do you cope at home?’
I’m used to this, being addressed to as my Auntie Valerie, Mum’s sister and Phillip’s mum. Mum often muddles us up and Charlie, bless him, seems to trip a switch in Mum’s brain. Looking at photos of Phillip when he was a little boy there is a resemblance between them. They both share the same untameable ginger hair and cheeky smile. Or Phillip did when he was younger anyway. I’ve not seen him for years. I can’t imagine him as a grown adult serving as an accountant with his old cheeky grin.
Unfortunately that side of the family don’t have much to do with us now. Their visits to Mum have all but dwindled to twice a year since she’s been in this home. Even when I was trying to keep her in her own house the help was very thin on the ground and even then her own sister Val only visited every couple of months if we were lucky.
I wish I had brothers or sisters to share the physical and emotional burden Mum’s illness puts me through. There’s not anyone I can really talk to about it. My only lifeline is Rachel next door who has been subject to many hours of me offloading to her.
Mum’s confusion always seems to make Charlie laugh so at least he doesn’t find it upsetting. I know Mandy does which is why she often refuses to, or finds excuses, not to visit. It can’t be nice for a teenage girl to witness her beloved Nana become increasingly confused under the grips of a fast progressing dementia. I know I shouldn’t be so harsh on her about not coming. We all deal with situations thrown at us in life differently and I know I should be more understanding. I must give the poor girl a break. After all if Mandy can keep the treasured memories of her Nana when she was well then that will last her a lifetime.
‘Ha ha Nana don’t be silly! This is Betty and look she’s just given me a lollipop!’ Charlie grins and rushes over to Mum brandishing his treasured lollipop in her face.
Mum gives Charlie a kiss on the top of his head.
‘Please don’t call me Nana, Phillip, you make me feel old. Auntie I can cope with, Nana I cannot,’ she pats him on his shoulder. ‘Now go and find Lynny to play with, make sure she’s not up to any trouble.’
‘You’re being silly Nana. I’m Charlie and Mum doesn’t play with toys anymore.’
Mum looks at me for some clarity.
‘What’s he on about Val? Have you been filling his head with silly nonsense again or is this some kind of joke cooked up between the both of you to make me think I’ve gone doo ally?’
Stepping in, I try to distract Charlie. I can see where this will lead. Mum gets upset when Charlie, or anyone for that matter, tries to correct her. Which is what probably happened this morning during her game of Bridge with April.
Last time we visited I went to talk to Betty about Mum’s care plan only to come back to Mum’s room to find Mandy in tears and Charlie finding it hilarious as his Nana was shouting at him and telling him off thinking he was Phillip playing tricks with her mind. She doesn’t mean to sound so aggressive, I think it just scares her when Charlie insists he is himself rather than Phillip whom she truly believes him to be.
‘Charlie,’ I whisper, ‘go and count the fish in the pond would you? See if they’re all there still and that a cat hasn’t been fishing there.’
Charlie scampers off happily with Betty in toe but not before she turns and mouths ‘Call for me if you need me’.
I nod politely but it breaks my heart to know that she doesn’t think I can cope with my own mother’s behaviour. I know she can be challenging but it’s just the illness, underneath she’s still my mum. However deeply buried she is sometimes.
‘You need to keep him on a tighter rein Val. You can’t let him play his tricks on people. All these fibs he keeps telling will get him in trouble one of these days.’
‘You’re right Elsie. I’ll have words with him.’ It’s e
asier and less distressing for Mum if I just go along with it.
‘Speak to the school, I would if it were Lynny. Let them know he’s going through a phase. If he’s this inconsiderate of his elders at home just imagine how he might be behaving at school, what he might be saying. It won’t look good on his school reports. Now would you be a dear and make a cup of tea for us both? I’ve been on my feet all day.’
Dutifully I make the tea and pass a cup and saucer to Mum.
‘Here you go Elsie.’
‘Elsie? Why are you calling me that? Don’t go getting all formal on me. Mum will do.’ She smiles at me.
And as if nothing has happened Mum is back and takes the cup and saucer. As she raises it to her lips tea spills onto the saucer from the cup trembling in her hand. Leaning down I kiss her thinning hair, settle back and ask her about the birds she watches in the garden. I know she likes to look up each one in her bird book and keep a note of the different species she sees.
After picking Mandy up on the way home the first thing I look for as we turn into our road is Ste’s car. Letting out a sigh I see that his car is not parked outside our house. Then again that doesn’t mean anything, it’s a new car and his pride and joy, he’s probably put it in the garage. Pulling into the drive I convince myself that he will be indoors. Probably preparing dinner or at least looking at the take away menus to save me the trouble of cooking.
Opening the front door I call out, ‘Ste, we’re home.’
No reply. I put my head around the door of the empty living room and then make my way to the door connecting the hall to the garage. My heart turns cold as I look into the sparse garage. Not a car in sight. His absence is really starting to scare me now, but again I tell myself to stop being silly. He will surely be back. If not this evening then after work tomorrow.
Checking the answer phone on the house phone and my voicemail on my mobile for messages I’m met with silence.
‘Mum, when’s Dad getting back? I’ve got some maths homework I need help with.’
‘Oh Mandy you should have done that yesterday. He’s had problems at work so he’s working tonight.’
‘Oh. What am I supposed to do now?’
‘Go and fetch it and I’ll have a look, see if I can help.’
‘You? You always say you can’t do secondary school maths,’ Mandy flings over her shoulder as she stomps up to her room.
‘What’s for dinner, Mum?’
‘Charlie, um...pizza. We’ll get a take away.’
‘Yay, thanks Mum. Mandy, Mandy did you hear that? We’re getting a pizza!’ Charlie skips happily up the stairs to inform his moody older sibling.
I wish pizza could make me feel that good too. Resigning myself to another night of uncertainty I pop a bottle of wine in the fridge. I need something to take my mind off everything.
Chapter Five
Enid
Me and Mum eat our dinner of corned beef hash in silence, Dad’s absence on the forefront of both our minds. It’s not unusual for Dad not to come home for dinner on payday but we both know that Dad drinking on an empty stomach is even worse.
A week on from last payday and Mum still wears the evidence of Dad’s drink induced temper. Her nose is still swollen and her right eye masked with a ring of blue and black. We both know what will happen tonight when he stumbles home in the early hours. It makes my blood boil to know that one person’s actions can cause so much pain and misery to another’s life.
I decide to take action while I have the anger flowing through my veins making me feel temporarily brave. Pushing my half finished plate away I ask Mum to keep it for later and tell her I’m just popping out to see my friend Betty. I hate lying to Mum, she deserves better, but it’s best she doesn’t know what I’m planning on doing.
Carefully shutting the garden gate I start down the street turning right at the end onto Cranfield Road, making my way to the centre of town to locate my father. My plan is to distract him from his drink and beg him to come home before he gets too drunk and spends all his pay and uses Mum to take his frustrations out on.
With this in mind I quicken my pace before I lose my nerve and turn for home. I go straight past the factory Dad works at knowing full well that he would have clocked off by now and certainly would not be working the overtime offered to him and his workmates every Friday evening.
Rounding the corner on to Sutton Street I head towards The King’s Arms, Dad’s second home, or so it seems.
The old oak door feels heavy in my shaking hand. Gingerly I push it open. Once inside I take a deep breath for courage; the musty air laced with cigar smoke, stale lager and working men’s sweat. I can do this. For my mum, I can do this. All I need to do is find my father, who won’t be too drunk because it’s only just after knocking off time from work, and get him to see sense and come home. Then we can all enjoy a nice evening without any of the tension or aggression alcohol stirs in him.
Pushing open the inner glass windowed door I walk in with as much confidence as I can muster, hoping if I look sure of my actions it will convince my now trembling inner self that I am doing the right thing.
Letting my eyes adjust to the dingy atmosphere inside I make my way to the bar, peering through the crowds of intoxicated men until I locate Father perched on a barstool, surrounded by his workmates.
I stand a few feet away, my feet frozen to the spot, I’ve come this far to find him and suddenly I don’t know what to say. How do I convince him to come home?
This was a bad idea. He won’t listen to me anyway. He doesn’t listen to Mum, why would he listen to me? What was I thinking?
Just as I turn to retreat home I feel a heavy weight on my arm and look up to see him towering above me, his face a furious red. Grabbing hold of my arm he drags me outside, his fingers pressing hard into my flesh.
‘What are you doing here?’ he whispers in my ear as he pushes the doors open with his free hand.
As soon as we are out in the fresh air, away from the stares of his workmates, he shoves me away from him with such a force it causes me to stumble and lose my footing on the kerb.
Catching my breath I look up to see him standing above me, fury and embarrassment painted across his face.
‘I said ‘What do you think you’re doing here?’’ he repeats in tight, quiet tones which strangely seem more threatening than his usual thunderous roar.
Staggering to my feet I turn to him, determined to say my piece.
‘Why don’t you come home now, Father?’
‘Home?’ He startles as though I’ve mentioned an alien concept. ‘Why? Why on earth would I want to come home?’
‘Well, it would be nice for you to come home early for a change. Mum’s saved your dinner.’
‘Dinner, huh? If I’d wanted to eat your mother’s burnt attempt at whatever lame excuse of a meal she’s making I would’ve been back after work and then gone out.’
‘Please Father, please stop drinking, you know what you’re like once you’ve been drinking.’ There I’ve said it now, I can’t take it back.
‘What I’m like? What do you mean?’
‘You know, you change. You change into a monster.’ The last word slips out before I can stop it and I know straight away that I’ve said too much.
‘Well... you insolent child slandering my name like that.’
I don’t have time to duck or block his hand and I take the full force of his slap across my face, knocking me sideways.
‘You don’t ever, ever speak to me in that manner again or I’ll give you what for.’
Still clasping my stinging cheek in the palm of my hand I don’t even notice as his hand comes up again. Connecting flesh on flesh.
The third time he raises his hand I catch his eye and am shocked by the sheer hatred I see in them. This upsets me more than the physical pain I’m feeling. I brace myself to feel the brunt of his hatred and anger for me and wait.
‘Oi, stop that Sir.’
Gingerly opening my eyes I
see Betty’s older brother Albert running over.
My mouth drops open as I watch him grab my father’s raised hand and push it to one side. ‘What do you think you’re doing, Sir? With all due respect you can’t slap a girl around like that.’
‘How dare you tell me what I can or cannot do to my own daughter? I shall punish her as I see fit,’ my father thunders.
Turning as quick as lightening he lands a hefty punch on Albert’s face.
‘No, Father!’ I hear myself scream.
This seems to just spur him on and he pulls his fist back ready to launch another punch.
The noise must have been heard in the pub because just then Father’s work mates file out of the heavy pub door. Standing around to watch they jeer as he lands another punch on poor Albert, this time his fist coming to rest on Albert’s stomach doubling him over in pain.
From the back of the crowd of drunken, shouting men I notice Clive, the pub’s landlord, weaving his way to the front. He grabs hold of my father’s hand a split second before he lands another punch and has him expertly up against the wall as though this is common practice on a Friday evening.
‘That’s enough now Bill,’ he stares straight into his eyes and strangely this seems to work as Father relaxes in his grasp and the fire that had been fuelling his anger seems to seep out of him.
‘Enough. Go home and sleep it off now Bill.’
Father staggers away from the wall as soon as Clive releases his tight grasp and begins to make his way down the road. Not even giving me a second glance.
‘Come on lads, we know when we’re not welcome anymore,’ he calls to his mates who all trail off after him, towards the next pub no doubt.
‘You alright lad?’ Clive pulls Albert up onto his feet.
‘Yes, yes. Fine thanks Sir.’
‘Okay then. Give me a shout if you get anymore hassle,’ and with that our saviour makes his way back into his pub.
