by Sarah Hope
‘Bloody thing.’
My neck snaps up automatically and through the window I catch a glimpse of Father kicking one of the old plant pots over in frustration. I guess he must have walked into it. Looking back at Mum, I see her face pale and she stops moving, adopting my still stance. He must be very drunk. Of course he’s come home this drunk before, but looking at the clock tells me it’s only ten past six. It’s unusual for him to have drunk quite so much in such a short space of time after finishing work at five.
The door flies open before crashing itself shut. My hand flies to my mouth as the stench of sweat and ale wafts from his body and I struggle not to throw up.
I keep my eyes transfixed on my dinner plate. I’ve learnt not to look at him. Meek and subdued that’s how he expects the women in his life to be. It only angers him if he thinks people are looking. I can hear Mum clattering pans in an attempt to keep things as normal as possible. Not to upset him.
Staring at my plate I suddenly hear Father’s vast hands bang down on the table. Looking up, I see him towering above me, the whites of his eyes red with rage and his temples pulsing.
‘What do you have to tell me?’ His breath, thick with drink and as warm as steam, hits my face and spittle covers my cheeks.
Panicking I remind myself he can’t possibly know. I have told no one about my baby. Only Mum. And I know she has not breathed a word. Trying to slow my breathing down, I look up at him, my eyes wide with innocence.
‘Nothing Father.’
‘Don’t lie to me girl,’ His thundering voice hits me like a slap in the face, ‘One of the lads at the factory say there’s word going round that you are in disgrace,...’ His eyes indicate my belly and it takes all my willpower to keep my hands in my lap and not to shade my baby from his eyes, ‘expecting.’
‘No, no Father. Not at all,’ He can’t know, he just can’t.
‘There’s talk of it all round town. Your expanding midriff. Not fitting into your gym clothes at school.’ There’s no let up in the volume of his voice.
Feeling the blood seep from my face, a numbness creeps in as I remember the incident he is referring to. Getting ready to go to gym class, the button on my gym skirt pinged off. I laughed it off. Telling my sniggering class mates I would have to go on a diet. I didn’t know there were any rumours going around. Catching a glimpse of Mum’s terrified face out of the corner of my eye gives me the signal I need.
‘It’s too much food Father. I’ve been eating too much. In fact I should skip dinner tonight, start my diet now. You can have my pork if you would like.’ I stand from the table, ready to head upstairs to the relative sanctuary of my room, quite proud that I’ve covered myself so well after having no warning.
Ouch, Father yanks my arm, twisting it behind my back. Next thing I know he has kicked out his leg behind my knees, lifting me off the floor. Feeling myself falling to the ground I twist myself so that it’s my back that hits the ground with a thud against the side of the hearth. Catching my breath I struggle to get up but he pins me to the floor, his legs pressing his heavy weight on mine and his left arm against my throat forcing me to stay on the ground. Everything slows down as his right hand approaches the hem of my jumper. I know what he is about to do. I try to squirm away from him, but the more I squirm the more weight he presses down onto me. Pins and needles creep up my legs and the room starts to swim in front of my eyes as I struggle to breathe beneath his heavy arm bearing down on my wind pipe. I must stop him. I must. He can’t find out. His eyes bore into mine as he yanks up my jumper. Looking down at my swollen belly he jumps off me and staggers backwards.
Taking shuddering breathes in, filling my lungs again I roll over, holding my knees and shield my baby from the forthcoming attack. I wait and wait, bracing myself for his punches. Feeling something on my back, I flinch.
‘It’s me love, get up, get up. We must get you out of here now.’
‘Mum,’ Relief floods through me as she helps me to standing. The feeling slowly coming back into my legs I find it difficult to walk, I lean against her as she pulls me towards the door.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ His voice thunders as he pounds down the stairs. Where has he been? Why did he go upstairs?
‘You’re coming with me.’ The pain in my arm as he wrenches it away from Mum’s grasp catches my breath again. She grabs my other arm and tries to continue tugging me towards the door. For a moment I’m caught in the middle. Being tugged this way and that, trying with all my might to get back to Mum. It’s no use Father is so much stronger. Stumbling I fall to the floor as pulls me up again towards him.
‘Leave her be Bill. Just leave her.’ Mum tries again to pull me up. That’s when I hear a shrill slap and she falls momentarily to the floor clutching her face. The edges of the stairs cut into my shins as he drags me half standing, half lying up the stairs. Gripping the hand rail with all the strength I have in my body, attempting to stop him succeeding, only burns my palms as he pulls harder and faster.
Trying to manipulate how I fall to protect my baby, he throws me into my room. I hit my head on the leg of my bed as I land. Curling up again I wait to feel the pain as he kicks me in the stomach, but nothing. Looking up I see the door is shut, no doubt wedged shut so I cannot escape. Listening I hear Mum crying out in pain.
The door lurches open and Mum is pushed inside. She immediately scrambles across the floor towards me and puts her arms around me. We both watch as he once again slams the door shut and scrapes the chair back across the landing to lock us in.
I don’t understand. What is he going to do? Starve us? I certainly wouldn’t put it past him. But it’s not like him. He is normally so physical.
Shaking in Mum’s arms, I try to focus on the sounds downstairs. A big loud bang and then smaller clatters.
What seems like hours later I hear the whistle of the kettle again and again which only adds to my confusion. Mum tightens her grip around my shoulders and I begin to allow myself to relax into her. Taking slow deep breaths I try to steady my pounding heart.
My breathing resumes it’s fast pace as I hear stomping on the stairs, the chair scrapes along the wooden floorboards again, and looking up I see Fathers huge bulk blocking the door. He marches straight towards us. Mum manoeuvres her body so that she is shielding me and I cover my tummy to protect my baby.
‘No, no,’ Mum is pulled away from me and thrown across the room, leaving me exposed to him towering above me. Glancing sideways I see Mum staggering to her feet, intent on coming to protect me. It’s to no avail as Father shoves her away with one hand and grips the top of my left arm with the other. Pain shoots through my arm as he digs his nails in. Pulling me to my feet, he once again twists my arm behind my back and marches me out of the room. Falling to the ground I try to let my body sink as low to the floor as possible, hoping that my body weight will slow him down. But with seemingly no effort he pulls me to my feet, dragging me down the stairs.
As I catch my breath after losing my footing on the bottom step it takes a moment to realise that the high pitched whistling in my ears is actually Mum screaming. What’s she screaming for? Forcing my head up I look in front of me. Father has got the tin bath down and filled it. What a strange thing to do. I hope he doesn’t expect me to take a bath in front of him. Am I supposed to wash away my sins?
Looking to Mum I try hard to decipher her face through the steam that has filled the room.
Feeling immense pressure on my back Father pushes me towards the bath.
‘I’m not getting in. Not in front of you Father. Please. I can take a bath later.’ Grabbing hold of the top of the kitchen table I try to stop him from moving me. My fingers are crushed as he prises them off one by one. I look up into his face as he leans over me, curling his arm beneath my legs and grabbing hold of my shoulders as he lifts me clean off the floor. What is he doing? Time slows down as he takes the last few small steps towards the bath and plunges me in it.
That’s when it dawns o
n me. The pain. The scorching water seeping through my clothes. My skin feels as though it’s on fire. Gasping for breath, my throat constricts with terror and pain. My baby, my baby. Kicking my legs out to stand I slip against the smooth metal of the bath. I try again only to be met with Fathers hands forcing me back down. I kick and use my arms to anchor me out of the boiling hot water but again he pushes me further down, keeping me in the bath. Twisting from side to side I manage to wrench an arm free, raising it to his face I search for his eyes. As I dig my nails in hoping to be able to gauge his eyes out, anything to get out of this water, I’m met with the firmness of flesh. My heart sinks and plummets as I know I have made a huge mistake. His heavy hands force my head under the scalding water, my nose and mouth filling with the blistering liquid. Looking up, my eyes burning with pain, I see his face sneering down at me. Through the water I fight to hold my breath for as long as I can. It’s no good. His fierce face swims in and out of my vision. I feel light, as though my body is floating. The pain subsides to leave numbness, my skin aching for feeling again.
Suddenly I feel my face being pulled to the surface. My nose, my eyes, my cheeks being surrounded by cool air. Trying to focus in on Mum’s fuzzy features as she heaves me up she begs me to help her get me out.
As I am half hauled and half manage to clamber out. I collapse, letting my blistering body crumple against the cool kitchen floor. Twisting my neck I look for Father, knowing I will be unable to move to get out of his way, sure this time he will win. I can’t see him. He’s either gone or else I can’t make him out in the steam filled room. My head is swimming. I can still feel the burning of my skin even though I am no longer surrounded by the scalding water.
I wince as Mum places a towel soaked in freezing water around my belly. Looking up Mum’s face comes into focus once again as she returns with more cold, wet towels and tea towels to cover my body. Glancing down I notice I am no longer in the heavy clothes that were saturated in the scalding bath water. Shaking my head I try to make sense of what has happened, but the pain, being slightly eased with the cool towels, is all that fills my mind.
Lying there on the cool slabs, Mum routinely soaking the towels with more cold water and replacing them on my scorched body I notice that I can see the night sky through the glass in the door. The stars and the moon enveloped in the midnight blue of the sky. What time is it? How long have I been lying here with Mum fetching and carrying, trying to relieve the scalding pain?
‘Enid, love, Enid. Mum’s here.’ Looking round I see Mum kneeling next to me, feel her cradling my head in her cool hands. ‘How are you feeling love?’
‘What was he trying to do Mum? Was he trying to kill my baby? Has he got what he wanted? Why?’ Hot tears flow down my cheeks as I try to make sense of everything. My baby. My poor baby. My head flops into Mum’s lap as she lifts my head and shoulders onto her knees, hugging me.
‘Oh love, I don’t know. I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault,’ I don’t know how long we stay like this but suddenly Mum shifts my head back onto the rolled up towels she had placed there earlier to act like a pillow.
‘It’s getting late. We must go now Enid. Get away from him. Do you think you can walk?’
Nodding meekly, a million questions fly through my mind. Where will we go? Will he find us? What’s the point if my baby has...? I can’t even bring my mind to think the worst. Where’s Mum going now? Listening I hear footsteps upstairs and my heart skips a beat in fear. Oh, it’s okay it’s Mum.
‘Here I’ll help you put these on love.’ She passes me a clean skirt and jumper.
It feels as though it is taking ages to put these clothes on. I try to block the pain I feel every time my skin comes into contact with the material. We must hurry. We must get out of the house before Father comes back. Presuming he has gone back to drinking, the local must be calling last orders soon.
Leaning on Mum I let her put her arm around my shoulders taking most of my weight as I struggle to stand and hobble to the door.
‘What about our things?’
‘We don’t have time love, I’ve packed a few bits. We don’t need any more. It’s not worth the risk.’ Her pinched face tells me she’s scared but determined.
‘What? He’s locked the door.’ Mum tries again but sure enough he’s locked it. Strange, the door never gets locked. Everyone knows and trusts each other on the street so there’s no need.
‘Where’s the key Mum?’
Looking at her pale face I know the answer. He’s taken it. Of course he has, we only have one key and the door is locked so he must have locked it from the outside and taken it.
‘Don’t worry. We can get through the window.’
Mum tries the window again and again but it’s always been temperamental and it’s just not budging. Collapsing onto the floor, I know this is it. The end. Father will never forgive me for getting pregnant and he would rather I die than have to live with the shame I have brought on the family.
‘He’s going to kill me.’
Mum’s arms feel strong as she places them around me and pulls me towards her. She’s not shaking like I am. My breathing begins to steady as I regulate myself to the deep, even rise and fall of her chest, my heartbeat slowing to match hers.
‘I’ll think of something love. Even your father is not stupid enough to believe he can do that with me about, and if he were to kill both of us he would never get away with it. He will realise that. I’ll talk to him.’ Looking into her serious eyes I let myself believe that what she is saying.
‘But for tonight we must make sure we are both in your room, with the door budged shut. Out of the way. He needs time.’
I watch from my slumped position on the floor as she hurries about taking our cold plates of food up to my room and then returning for a jug of water.
Without saying a word she helps me up and we slowly make our way up the stairs.
Lying in the dark, my hand clutching my belly, willing my baby to kick, I hear Father come crashing through the yard, fumble with the door and let himself in. My body straightens as I listen to him, expecting him to try to get into my room. Instead I hear a thud, probably him passing out on the floor and then nothing. Silence. I return to my prayers, asking my little one to be saved.
What’s that? My face is wet with tears. What was I dreaming about?
There it goes again. It’s the doorbell. Who the bleeding hell can that be at this time of night? Unless it’s... no it’s a woman’s voice, hysterical by the sounds of it. My hopes are dashed. She’ll go in a minute. I’ll just pretend I’m not here.
She’s not going to give up is she? Slipping into the front room and hitching up the nets I hope she won’t see me. It’s that girl from across the road. The loud one that wears her hair like a boy’s. What on earth is the matter with her? It sounds as though her house is on fire or something. I suppose I’ll have to open the door and find out.
‘Okay, okay, I’m coming. Give an old lady a chance.’ Ouch that damn cabinet, I keep meaning to move it. I can’t remember how many times I’ve stubbed my toe on it. This had better be good.
‘Hello, what’s...?’
‘Mrs Reynolds, please I have to go. Thank you.’
And she’s off before I can work out if it’s pyjama bottoms she’s wearing or some kind of hip designer get up.
I look down at the child left on my doorstep. A bit old for being abandoned so I reckon she’ll be back. Not quite sure what I’m supposed to do with him until then though.
‘Oh, don’t cry pet. Come in, we can’t have you loitering on the doorstep making the place look untidy.’
‘That’s it into the front room. You’d better sit down before you fall asleep standing.’ He looks as though his mother’s dragged him out of bed and straight over here.
‘Right then, why has your mother dropped you off here?’ It’s not even as though I know the family, despite them having lived opposite for the last, what seven, eight years? I try to keep ou
t of the way of those kinds of people. Social climbers they call them now I think. In my day they would have been accused of going above their station.
‘No good just shrugging at me pet, that’s not going to give me any answers now is it?’ Poor thing looks petrified. Not that I can blame him. I should think anyone would, being dragged out in the middle of the night and dumped at an almost total stranger’s house. What was she thinking? Silly woman.
‘What shall we do with you now then?’
Another shrug.
‘How about a cup of hot cocoa pet? ‘
This time a nod.
Waiting for the milk to come to the boil on the stove I peek around the kitchen door. He’s not moved a muscle, poor lamb, he must really be scared. I’ll take through a plate of biscuits too, though I think, yes, I’ve only got rich tea, never mind that’ll have to do.
‘Here you go. Take it then. I can’t stand here forever. That’s it. I’ll pop these biccies on the coffee table for you.’
His hand reaches for a biscuit and I’m sure I hear a mumbled thank you. I can’t help staring at him as he quietly munches and then reaches for another one after looking over at me to seek approval.
What do I do with him? I don’t know how long his poor excuse of a mother will be gone for, let alone why she’s gone, abandoning her youngest. She doesn’t even really know me. Not at all really. She only thinks of me as the street’s busy body. I know that’s what they all call me behind my back; I’ve heard her, the kid’s mother. I’m sure she thinks I’m deaf along with the rest of the street. The ding dongs her and her husband have had. Not that I’ve seen him recently. I caught a glimpse of him earlier today though for the first time in ages. That caused quite a scene outside. Another argument. This time it was mainly between that rebellious daughter of theirs and her father. That’s the problem these days, I’m sure of it. No respect for their elders it is.
