by Sandy Taylor
Monica had lots of orange freckles on her face that matched her hair. I liked her face.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Best friends?’ said Monica.
‘Best friends,’ I said.
Miss Phillips was standing in front of the blackboard, smiling at us.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘I am going to go round the class and ask everyone to say their name out loud and then I shall write your name on the blackboard. That way we can all get to know each other. I am Miss Phillips and I will write my name on the board first.’
Some of the kids shouted out their names as if the rest of us were stone deaf and some were so quiet you could hardly hear them. Me and Monica said our names just right.
As I sat there listening to Mabel and Janet and Cyril and Stanley calling out their names, I began to relax.
My shoes felt tight because the new socks that my Aunty Marge had bought me were a bit too big, so Daddy had folded them over my toes.
The Blessed Virgin Mary smiled down at me from the wall. I slipped off my shoes and I was happy. That was until I heard Brenda’s pushchair squeaking along the bloody corridor.
Six
Daddy stayed outside the school gates for three whole days. I knew he was there because I could see the smoke from his Senior Service fags drifting up over the wall. Every break time and lunchtime he would push Brenda into the playground and drink out of the water fountain. He would go up to one of the teachers, tip his non-existent hat and say, ‘Just getting a drink for the child, missus.’ You could see the teacher didn’t like it. Then him and Brenda would squeak across to me while I was in the middle of a game with Monica. Brenda looked miserable and cold.
‘Take her home, Daddy, or take her to the beach. Just take her somewhere. She looks frozen and have you fed her?’
‘We want you to come with us, Maureen, don’t we, Brenda? We could all go down the lagoon, you like the lagoon.’
‘Lagoon,’ said Brenda.
‘I can’t go down the lagoon, I have to be here. I like it here, Daddy. This is where I have to be. And you have to look after Brenda, that’s what you have to do.’
Daddy looked sad. ‘We miss you, girl.’
I looked at my daddy’s lovely face and I wanted to cry. I could smell the warm margarine on his hair. ‘I miss you too, Daddy,’ I said gently. ‘But I’m happy here and I’ve made a new friend. Her name’s Monica and she’s got red hair and she’s lovely.’
‘Monica,’ said Brenda.
‘Promise you will take Brenda somewhere so that she can run around and get her something to eat.’
Daddy touched my cheek, ‘I promise,’ he said.
‘I promise,’ said Brenda solemnly.
I watched as they squeaked out of the playground. Brenda turned around and waved.
I watched till they were out of sight then I walked across to the steps that led up to the school field and sat down. How can loving someone make you feel so bad? It should make you feel happy and safe and all sorts of nice things. It shouldn’t give you a belly ache and it shouldn’t make you want to cry, should it? Monica came across and sat next to me. She slipped her arm through mine.
‘Your dad looks nice,’ she said.
‘He’s lovely,’ I said. ‘But he’s not very well.’
I had never said that before. I had never even thought it before but I knew I was right: my daddy wasn’t very well. Nobody had ever told me what was wrong with him, nobody had ever told me why he couldn’t go to work like all the other daddies. I mean, he was never sick, he never got colds or tummy aches like the rest of us and his legs were OK. Not like the man down the road who only had one leg because he lost the other one fighting for King and Country. I mean, you could see why he couldn’t go to work. I thought if Daddy could just get a job then everything would be alright and Aunty Vera and Uncle Fred would have nothing to yap on about. I loved him so fiercely it hurt and yet there was part of me that was angry with him. I wanted to punch anyone who was mean to him. I wanted Mum to stop yelling at him. I wanted someone to tell me what the hell was wrong with him but most of all, I wanted him to be happy and my heart told me that he wasn’t.
He kept his promise though and I told him that from then on I would walk to school with Monica, who only lived a couple of streets away.
I loved school. I loved the way it smelled; a mixture of chalk and books and kids. I loved my teacher; she said that I was a very clever girl because I was the best reader in the whole class and I could make up really great stories. Even Monica’s stories weren’t as good as mine and her stories were pretty good. Daddy had taught me to say my alphabet on those long days we’d spent down the lagoon and on the beach.
Me and Monica became monitors. She gave out the milk and I sharpened the pencils. I tried not to think about Daddy and Brenda.
Then I found out that instead of waiting outside the playground all day, he had taken to sitting on the wall opposite the rich lady’s house, waiting for Mum. I heard them arguing about it.
‘For God’s sake, Pat, do you want me to lose my job? Is that what you want?’
My dad didn’t answer her.
‘Because that’s what’s going to happen. The neighbours have complained. I was ashamed, Pat. I was ashamed.’
‘I’m sorry, Kate. I won’t sit there again.’
‘That would be good.’
‘I miss Maureen.’
‘I know you do, love, but you have to let her go. She needs to be with other children. Sometimes I think we put too much on those little shoulders. Let her go, Pat, let her enjoy her childhood.’
I didn’t always think about my mum, about how hard she had to work cleaning for the rich ladies. If only my dad could get a job, then Mum could stay at home like Aunty Vera and she could look after Brenda. I knew that my daddy wouldn’t let any harm come to Brenda but sometimes he did silly things and he’d forget that Brenda was only three years old. I spent so much time with my dad that I didn’t always think about my mum and how hard it was for her.
I decided to help Mum more. I made mine and Brenda’s bed before I went to school and if Brenda had wet herself in the night, I swilled out her wet knickers and brought the sheets downstairs. Mum noticed and she smiled a lot more and that made me happy.
Me and Monica became the best of friends. Even when we moved up to the next class we still sat together. On the weekends we took bread and marge and a bottle of water down the beach. Most of the time we had to take Brenda with us in the pushchair, squeaking our way through the streets then lugging the pushchair onto the pebbles. Sometimes we had to bring Monica’s little brother Archie as well but we didn’t mind. Brenda and Archie would sit on the pebbles playing. Monica had to wear a hat on her head on account of her freckly skin; her mum said that if she didn’t wear it she’d crisp up like a rasher of bacon.
Brenda loved the water. The three of us would tuck our dresses into our navy knickers and paddle in up to our knees. We both held one of Brenda’s little hands and jumped her over the waves, screaming when the water splashed onto our knickers. Then we’d sit with our backs against the old wooden groyne and eat our bread and marge and take turns drinking water out of the bottle. There were bathing machines where the rich people got changed into their swimming costumes. The machines had big wheels on them and a horse would pull them down to the sea so that the rich people could step into the water and not have to walk on the pebbles. We would giggle when they came out of the huts in their funny outfits. The ladies wore pantaloons under little cotton dresses. The men looked the funniest in stripy costumes and straw boaters. Sometimes the hats would fly off their heads in the wind and bob about in the water and me and Monica would wade in and get them. If we were lucky we’d get an orange each for our trouble.
As Brenda got older we abandoned the bloody pushchair and she trotted along happily beside us. I knew that Daddy wanted to come too, I could tell by his face but I was seven years old now, almost grown-up, and I didn’t want my daddy with
me all the time. Monica’s dad never wanted to come with us. I was always quiet when we left the house and a part of me wanted to run back and say, ‘Come with us, Daddy. Come with us.’ I never did though and Monica never asked why I was quiet.
I think she knew.
Seven
Brenda started school when she was five years old. She was a bit nervous but I told her: ‘You will have the nicest, kindest teacher in the world, Brenda. Her name’s Miss Phillips. The walls in your classroom are yellow and there’s a Noah’s Ark and little wooden animals and you get to learn to read and write and become a clever girl. And at playtime you can play with me and Monica, so there is nothing to be frightened of.’
Mum wouldn’t let Daddy take us to school on Brenda’s first day; she didn’t want a repeat performance of my first day at school.
* * *
Then Daddy got sad again. Daddy got so sad that they took him away in an ambulance. As they took him away, a bunch of kids from the street were standing outside our front door, trying to see what was happening. Bloody nosey lot. I stuck my tongue out at them and the ambulance men told them to clear off. I cried all night and my mum lifted me out of my bed and into hers. She held me close to her and stroked my hair; she made me feel safe.
‘Don’t be sad, love,’ she said. ‘Your daddy will be taken care of now and once he is well again, he will come home to us.’
‘Can I go and see him?’
‘I’m afraid not, love, they won’t let children in but you and Brenda can come with me and wait outside so you can feel close to him.’
‘OK,’ I said and I fell asleep in her arms.
* * *
Aunty Vera had a lot to say about it but then Aunty Vera had a lot to say about everything.
Me and Brenda were eating our tea one day when she swanned in the back door, looking pleased with herself.
‘Well, I won’t say I told you so, Kate, but I told you so. I always knew that man of yours would end up in the loony bin.’
‘The children,’ hissed Mum.
‘Well, isn’t it time they knew about their wonderful daddy?’
Me and Brenda stopped eating and stared at her.
‘You may be my sister, Vera, but if you say one more word about my husband so help me God, I will pour this pan of soup over that nasty little head of yours.’
Aunty Vera went red in the face and slammed the back door shut as she strode out. Her parting shot was: ‘Well, don’t expect any more help from me and Fred, Kate O’Connell. You’ve made your bed, now you can bloody well lie in it!’
Mum opened the back door and shouted up the street after her, ‘Well, I’d rather lie in my bed with Pat than next to your fat, boring, opinionated excuse for a man!’
When Mum came back into the kitchen she was grinning all over her face.
‘I’ve wanted to say that for a long time.’
Me and Brenda just smiled at each other and got back to our dinner.
* * *
The hospital was in Haywards Heath and it was twelve miles away. Mum said she couldn’t afford for all of us to go on the tram after all. I said that was OK, because I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but I had liked the idea of being close to my dad even if we couldn’t go in.
‘You’re a great girl, Maureen,’ she said.
Then Uncle John came round. He put his hand in his pocket and handed Mum a ten-shilling note.
‘I can’t, John,’ she said.
‘You can and you will, Kate, because it’s given with love and we are family and family stick together. You would do the same for me and Marge if you were able to.’
‘I would of course, John.’
‘Well, there you are then, you can all go on the tram together. Marge said that if you would like her to come with you, she would be more than happy to.’
‘Please, Mum?’ I said.
‘Tell her I’d be glad of her company, John, and thank you both. I won’t forget this.’
Uncle John put his hand in his pocket again and pulled out two gobstoppers. He pretended to be surprised.
‘Now where did they come from? Did they jump into my pocket as I passed the sweetie shop?’
‘Did they?’ said Brenda, wide-eyed.
‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘Uncle John bought them. You bought them, didn’t you, Uncle John?’
Uncle John smiled and ruffled our hair.
‘Thank you, John,’ said Mum quietly.
* * *
It felt like an adventure, going on the tram to somewhere we had never been before. Me and Brenda ran up the stairs to the top deck, while Mum and Aunty Marge sat downstairs. I let Brenda sit by the window so that she could see all the new places that we passed. There were villages and streams and cows and horses on the hillside. Children made faces at us as we passed and we made faces back at them. It was a long journey and the sun streaming through the window made me sleepy.
At last we arrived in Haywards Heath. As we got off the tram, Aunty Marge asked the conductor where the hospital was.
‘What, the loony bin?’ he said.
Aunty Marge gave him one of her looks and pulled us away.
‘What’s a loony bin?’ asked Brenda.
‘It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ said Mum, grabbing Brenda’s hand and hurrying us along the street.
Mum stopped and asked directions from a lady who was pushing a pram. Me and Brenda peered into the pram and made funny faces at the baby, who smiled back at us. It was sucking on a dummy and its little face was going up and down like a hamster. Mum looked into the pram and said, ‘He’s lovely.’
‘It’s a girl,’ said the woman, glaring at Mum.
As the woman walked away, Aunty Marge whispered, ‘Why dress it in bloody blue then?’
The lady with the baby had said, ‘It’s just up the hill, you can’t miss it.’
She was right, the hospital was enormous. I had never seen a prison but I thought that that was what a prison would have looked like. It gave me a bad feeling. I felt Brenda’s hand slip into mine.
I looked down at her and smiled.
‘Loony bin?’ she whispered.
‘Course it’s not,’ I said. ‘It’s a proper hospital and the doctors are going to make Daddy better.’
The four of us walked up the drive towards a huge front door. There were lots of steps leading up to it and next to the door was a tall tower with a clock on it. Everything about the place scared me. There were rows and rows of little windows that seemed to be staring down at us. I was glad that me and Brenda weren’t allowed inside. Judging by the looks on Mum’s and Aunty Marge’s faces, I didn’t think they wanted to go in either.
‘We won’t be long,’ said Aunty Marge, smiling at us.
‘I’ll give Daddy your love,’ said Mum.
‘Tell him to get better soon,’ I said.
‘Better soon,’ said Brenda.
We watched as Mum and Aunty Marge went through the big door then we ran down the grassy bank to a lawn. We sat down under a big tree.
Brenda was yawning. I leaned back against the tree. ‘Put your head on my lap and have a kip,’ I said.
The building looked even bigger from down here and it was really quiet. It was so quiet that you could hear the leaves rustling in the tree and the sound of birds in the branches. Where was everyone? Was my daddy behind one of those windows? Maybe they’d let Mum bring him home today. We had enough money for his tram ticket. I didn’t like to think of my daddy in that place. If me or Brenda had to go in there, Daddy would stay outside until we were well enough to come home. That’s what my daddy would do. I wasn’t brave enough to do that though. It was scary enough in the day, it would be terrifying at night.
Brenda’s head was heavy on my lap. She had fallen asleep almost at once. I looked up through the branches at the sky and I prayed for my daddy to get better.
* * *
By the time Mum and Aunty Marge came sliding down the grassy bank, my legs were numb and if I’d
tried to stand up straightaway, I would have fallen over. I gently shook Brenda awake.
‘Is it time for school?’ she said.
‘We’re not at home, love. Don’t you remember? We’re at the hospital.’
She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. ‘I don’t like it here,’ she said.
‘Me either. It’s bloody awful.’
‘Bloody awful,’ said Brenda.
Mum and Aunty Marge sat down next to us and they were both smiling, which I thought was a good sign.
‘Is Daddy better?’ said Brenda.
‘Nearly,’ said Mum.
‘Did you ask them if he could come home? Did you tell them that you’ve got enough money for his tram fare?’
‘He’s not ready to come home yet, love.’
I looked up at the rows of windows, rubbing my legs to get the blood back into them.
‘Is he alright though? Is he happy, Mum? Did you give him my love?’
‘Yes to all those questions, Maureen. He’s happy and, yes, I did give him your love and he sends his love to both of you.’
‘This place makes me feel sad, Mum.’
Aunty Marge put her arm around my shoulder.
‘It makes me feel sad too,’ she said.
‘Bloody loony bin,’ said Brenda.
Eight
Me and Brenda didn’t go to the hospital again and even though I wanted to be near to Daddy I didn’t mind, because the place had given me bad dreams. I kept dreaming about the rows of windows staring down at me and running through long dark corridors looking for my daddy. I would wake up crying and Mum would bring me downstairs to the kitchen and give me hot cocoa. On the weekends when Mum visited him on her own me and Brenda helped Aunty Marge and Uncle John on the fruit and veg stall.
We had to get up really early while it was still dark and Mum would dress me and Brenda up in our coats and scarves and gloves. Mum would wave at us from the front door and we’d walk through the dark streets holding onto Aunty Marge’s hands. Then we’d help Aunty Marge put up the stall while Uncle John went to the market to get the fruit and vegetables. It was like an adventure but all the time I was putting apples and pears and tomatoes into paper bags I was thinking of my daddy in the hospital behind one of those windows.
