Mummy, Make It Stop (17 page)

I spent most of the next morning sitting in my room, waiting and wondering. The tension in the house was so high that we were all restless. Jamie and Tanya were both pacing around and Mum was drinking cups of tea non-stop.

As the clock ticked, my stomach was full of butterflies. What would this mystery dad be like? Jamie had been three and Tanya four when Dad left, so they could remember him a little better. Jamie was especially eager to see him again and watched out of the window.

He was due at eleven and, bang on time, the doorbell went.

‘He’s here,’ I heard Jamie shout.

I got off my bed and walked to the top of the stairs, staring down at the front door as a shadow appeared on the other side. It looked big and I swallowed. I still expected to see three eyes when he walked in. But when Jamie opened the door, I was shocked. The man standing there looked clean, smart, rather scared - and very ordinary.

I stared at him, thinking, ‘Where’s his third eye?’ But there was no sign of it. He just had the regular two eyes everyone had. He was tall, with fair hair and brown eyes. He wore smart trousers and a short-sleeved shirt and I thought he looked quite friendly.

He stepped inside and forced a smile. Behind him was a lady with blonde shoulder-length hair. Was she his wife, I wondered. If so, she looked rather old.

‘Hello,’ he said, looking at the three of us, who stood lined up in the hallway. ‘This is your Nan, Maureen.’ I realised that Dad had brought his mother. I could see how nervous he was - he probably needed a bit of support.

‘Hello,’ smiled Nan. She looked kind, and I did my best to smile back, but I felt it came out looking all wrong.

‘Right,’ Mum said, grabbing the kettle. ‘I’ll make some tea - you all go and sit down.’ I looked at her in surprise. She never made us tea.

We all trooped into the lounge and sat around the drop-leaf table. Jamie, Tanya and I sat in silence, as Dad and his mum tried to make polite conversation, asking us about school. Mum brought us all tea, and we sipped it nervously.

After a few minutes, I decided to speak. There was something on my mind.

‘What do we call you?’ I said to him, blushing.

‘Call me whatever you want,’ Dad replied, smiling at me. The trouble was I wasn’t sure what I wanted to call him. ‘Dad’ seemed odd, because I didn’t even know him. But what else was there?

Mum kept busy, offering biscuits and topping up drinks, as we all looked at one another.

Gradually, we began to thaw out, but it was hard going. Tanya, Jamie and I all found excuses to leave the table and go upstairs or out to the kitchen for a few minutes at a time, just to escape the tension.

After an hour, Dad and Nan got up to leave. He delved into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he laid on the table.

‘There’s fifteen pounds in there for each of you,’ he smiled. ‘Get yourselves something nice with it.’

My eyes lit up thinking about what I could spend my money on. New clothes, some make-up, jewellery, sweets; I could probably get all of them with that much.

‘Thanks,’ I said, smiling at Dad. Jamie and Tanya thanked him too.

‘I’ll be back again next week, if that’s OK with all of you,’ he said.

‘Yes, great,’ Mum said. We all nodded.

Mum shut the door behind him and turned to us.

‘If you think you’re getting this money, you got another think coming,’ she said, grabbing the envelope from the table. ‘This’ll do me for bringing you lot up, without a single penny from him.’ And she ripped open the envelope and stuffed the money into her pocket.

We stared at her. How could she be so unfair? Our dad had given us that money. I wanted to run after him and tell him that Mum had taken it. But I knew she’d make me suffer if I did. So I stomped upstairs, feeling gutted and knowing she would spend it on more supplies of Mad Dog cider and cannabis.

Later that day, I said to Mum, ‘You told us he had three eyes. But he didn’t.’

She roared with laughter. ‘You didn’t believe that, did you?’ she said. ‘I was only joking.’

I thought about Dad a lot in the week that followed. The meeting had been awkward and tense, but he’d tried hard. I decided we should give him a chance.

The following weekend, he came over again. This time he came alone, and he brought sweets for us. I was glad - Mum wasn’t likely to take them away. None of us mentioned that she’d taken the money when Dad teased us about how we’d probably spent it all on sweets and chocolate.

Mum left us in the kitchen with him, so we were all a bit more at ease. Dad told us about his partner, Sandra, and said he would like us to meet her once he’d got to know us a bit better. He explained that he had to come over to our house, as he didn’t have a car and the bus we would have to take to get to his place went on a long roundabout route and took forever. But he said that he’d decided it was time he learned to drive, and he’d already started lessons.

He was nice, and I thought he must like us if he was bothering to learn to drive so that he could take us to his house. I couldn’t see why Mum had hated him so much. I wondered whether he had really done all the bad things she accused him of. But whatever he had or hadn’t done, I was just happy to have a dad and to feel that, at last, I was like other kids. I decided that I would call him ‘Dad’. It had begun to feel right.

For the next few weeks, Dad came over to see us every Sunday. Mum would behave nicely in front of him, making the tea and then leaving us to chat to him, and as we got to know each other, we all became more relaxed.

About six weeks after Dad started coming over, Tanya turned sixteen. She wanted a party, and Mum agreed. Tanya wanted Dad to come, and to our surprise Mum said yes.

On the day, we all dressed up and Tanya’s friends came over, along with our aunties and a few of Mum’s gang. Dad turned up with Nan and his sister, Auntie Allie, with loads of presents for Tanya.

Dad seemed to get on well with everyone, and I felt proud. I kept thinking, ‘I’ve got a dad, and he’s nice.’ It felt so special.

Dad passed his driving test soon afterwards and bought a car. The next weekend he came to collect us and take us out for a drive. Jamie was off with a friend, so Dad took me and Tanya. And, to my surprise, he headed for the area where Cherry Road was.

‘Why are you bringing us here?’ I asked.

‘I love this area,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I often come here. It’s so pretty, and there’s a lovely market in the village. Do you know it?’

We told him that it was where we had been in a children’s home, and he looked sad. ‘I’m sorry, girls, I knew you’d been in care, because social services told me, but I didn’t know it was here. Do you want to go home?’

‘No,’ we told him. ‘It’s fine.’ And it was. I liked seeing the area again and so did Tanya. I couldn’t help wondering if Dad had been there when we were at Cherry Road. Perhaps we’d even passed him in the street.

After that, Dad came every weekend to take us out, and we drove all over the place, exploring different areas. Then came the day when he said, ‘Would you like to come to my house?’

‘Yes please,’ we squealed. I couldn’t wait to see where he lived. His house was a three-bedroom semi, like ours, but his was in a nicer area and it looked smarter. Standing in the doorway, smiling, was a very plump woman with a warm face and a big smile.

‘Well, it’s good to meet you,’ she said, giving all of us a hug. ‘I’m Sandra. I can’t tell you what it means to your dad to be seeing you again.’

I was puzzled. What did she mean? If it was so important to him, then why had he stopped seeing us? I wanted to ask, but still felt too unsure of myself - and him - to risk it.

We had a lovely time that day. Sandra was kind and motherly and made us a big meal. She had three grown-up children of her own. She and Dad had met soon after he split from Mum, so they’d been together for over twelve years. Dad worked in a bakery and Sandra worked in a café, cooking and waiting at tables. They seemed to be really fond of one another and happy together.

After that, Dad took us over to his house every weekend and I loved it. Jamie and Tanya didn’t always come. They would be off with their friends, and Tanya had a boyfriend called Kevin and spent all her time with him. So it was often just me. I was so starved of affection that I lapped up the cuddles and hugs Sandra gave me, and when Dad asked me if I’d like to stay the night one weekend, I happily agreed.

I slept in a large spare bedroom which was light and spacious. It was never normally used, so it only had a bed in it, but I liked it because it was so clean and all mine.

At bedtime I gave Dad a kiss and cuddle and then Sandra took me up to bed. She tucked me in, stroked my hair and kissed me goodnight. She made me feel I was special to her and after she’d gone I lay in the dark, remembering her touch on my hair and thinking that no-one had ever touched me like that before.

The next morning they offered me a choice of cereal, toast or a cooked breakfast. I asked for a bacon sandwich. I loved them and never had one at Mum’s as bacon was expensive and if we ever had any it was only for Mum.

I loved my stay, and asked to come again. Before long I was staying over every weekend. The arrangement suited everyone: Mum was glad to have me out of the way and Dad and Sandra seemed to like me being around. As for me, I felt at last I had found people I could trust, and I wanted to be with them. Dad wasn’t much richer than Mum, but he gave me time and attention, we did things together and he didn’t shout at me or get angry, and that meant the world to me.

I couldn’t get over how different things were at Dad’s. I had the run of the house and was free to help myself to food in the kitchen. I would make myself toast and jam and coffee and sit on the sofa with them, in my pyjamas and dressing gown, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Dad and Sandra must have thought I was easily pleased, but to me toast and jam and coffee was luxury. Mum would never allow me things like coffee; she always said it was too expensive and only she and the guests could have it. I wasn’t allowed jam either. I had to make do with real basics unless Mum was feeling in a particularly good mood, or the shoplifters had been round selling stolen goods and she had got some bargains.

Mum always seemed to be agitated by my very existence, but at Dad’s it was so different. He and Sandra seemed happy for me to be there. They gave me a say in what we watched on TV and asked me what I’d like to eat and where I’d like to go. I felt wanted in a way I never had before. Sandra had her part-time job in a café near their house and Dad would take me in there to wait for her to finish.

I loved watching Sandra working behind the counter, making sandwiches and burgers and pouring cups of tea and coffee. She must have seen how transfixed I was by it all, because one day she yelled over to me, ‘Don’t just stand there, young lady, get this apron on and give me a hand.’

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I grabbed an apron and went behind the counter and Sandra told me to butter a pile of bread.

I loved my stint in the café, so after that day she would take me to work with her most Saturdays and let me help her serve the chip butties and burgers. She’d give me two pounds for helping, and then on the way home we’d go to the shops for chocolate cake and sweets. Back at home, we’d sit on their shocking-purple sofa and cuddle in front of the TV.

When Sandra wasn’t at work, she and Dad would often take me shopping in town. We’d wander round the shops, just looking, or buy things they needed for the house.

I never asked for anything; I already felt I had so much from them. So when Sandra steered me into a shoe shop one day I looked at her, puzzled.

‘Come on,’ she grinned. ‘I’ve seen you staring at those trainers over there. Let’s see if they’ve got them in your size.’

I felt so excited I was almost giddy. I had longed for a pair of pretty new trainers, but never thought I could have them. I’d had to make do with ugly old second-hand ones ever since I could remember. I’d had new shoes at Cherry Road - but never trainers.

I sat staring down at them as I tried them on, not wanting to take my eyes off them for a second.

‘Well, do they fit?’ Sandra asked.

‘Yes,’ I beamed, looking up at her. ‘They’re great.’

‘Better wear them right now then,’ Sandra smiled, heading over to the till to pay.

My tatty old shoes were thrown into a bin outside the shop as we left. I couldn’t stop looking down at my feet - I was afraid that if I did the trainers might disappear. For the next few days I bumped into everything in my path - people, bollards, dogs and post-boxes.

Being with Dad and Sandra was like having a taste of a different life and I wished it could last. I always felt upset when I had to go back home again, but I didn’t dare suggest I went to live with them - I didn’t know if Mum would agree, or if they would want me around all the time.

Dad’s mother, Nan, often came over to their house to see me. It was she who told me how hard they had all tried to see us in the past.

‘We never gave up,’ she said. ‘Your dad longed to see you, and so did I. We tried all the time. We sent birthday and Christmas cards, and took presents round. Your mum wouldn’t give any of them to you.

‘Your mum and dad had fallen out, but that was no reason to bar us from seeing you. We wanted to, so much. Your dad tried again when you went into care. But your mum always told social services that he was violent and asked them not to let him have any contact.