A glance at Catherine showed her wiping her cheek with her free hand.
Beth let go of Catherine’s hand and moved towards the fire. ‘Mother asked me to pass her the poker. I didn’t understand because the fire didn’t need prodding.’
Beth dazedly walked to the long-dead fireplace and retrieved the smoke-blackened poker. She examined it closely.
‘As I passed it to her she pushed me into the fire.’
Alex heard a soft whimper of pain from Catherine, but she was more interested in the expression on Beth’s face. Her unblinking eyes were locked on the poker with a child’s inquisitiveness, as though seeing it for the first time.
‘At first I didn’t feel the pain. My instincts focused on trying to get out, but she held me down, amongst the flames, with this.’
Silence filled the room. Alex tore her gaze away from Catherine and stood. She took two steps and eased the poker from the grip of her sister.
Beth seemed to wake from a dazed state as though Alex had woken her from sleepwalking. Her eyes were innocent, yet haunted.
‘How could she do that, Alex?’ Her voice was filled with pain and disbelief.
‘Because she was evil,’ Alex said.
Catherine approached them. They all stood awkwardly in the middle of the small living room.
‘Because she had worked out that we all cared about each other more than we cared for ourselves. It was the ultimate punishment, born of a twisted mind.’
For a split second Alex thought Beth was going to argue. Old habits die hard, she realised. It would take a while for the mother in Beth’s mind – the one that Beth had invented in her safe world, built of lies and deceitful self-protection – to transpose into one truthful image of the real mother they’d had.
‘We’re so sorry for causing you all this pain,’ Catherine offered, taking Beth’s hand. ‘If only we hadn’t been arguing or if—’
‘Shh,’ said Beth, placing a finger on Catherine’s lips. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It was a lottery and it could have been any one of us.’
Beth reached for them both and Alex allowed herself to be drawn into the embrace. It was the least that she could do for Beth.
‘Please don’t blame yourselves. It really wasn’t your fault. I don’t and never will blame either of you.’
‘That fucking bitch,’ Alex exploded, extricating herself from the embrace. She had the overwhelming urge to lash out and hit something. She wanted to channel the cancerous hate inside her into her balled fist and smash it into the wall.
Poor, sweet Beth who had probably suffered more than both she and Catherine combined had managed to preserve a genuine warmth and generosity of spirit despite their mother’s best efforts to beat it out of her.
Beth’s purity of heart and good nature had survived the war zone of their childhood and for that Alex was grateful. Beth reached for her, warmth and compassion filling her eyes. ‘Alex, my sweet little sister. You have to let go of the anger. Don’t allow it to destroy you. You’re better than that.’ Beth clutched her hands tightly. ‘You have so much to live for and to give to other people. There are good things to come out of this. I mean, look at you two, finally back together after all these years. Now that is something to be thankful for.’
Alex felt the tears burn at the back of her throat and Catherine looked away, astounded by their sister’s total selflessness, Alex guessed. Peacemaker was the part she’d always played in their earlier years.
‘I hated it when you two fought.’
‘You always found a way to bring us back together,’ Catherine observed, fighting her own tears.
Beth shrugged and smiled wearily. ‘I hated it when you were cross with each other. Somehow the world didn’t seem the same place. It always felt terribly important that you two were friends. You had to stick together.’
Alex looked at Catherine who offered an awkward half smile. Perhaps there was hope.
Beth pulled away, leaving the two of them side by side. ‘Now, I insist we have some tea.’
Alex collapsed back into the chair, emotionally and physically exhausted.
Catherine stared at the closed lounge door. ‘Alex…’
‘I know,’ Alex said, not needing the words to be spoken.
Throughout the whole exchange their sister had not shed a single tear.
Fifteen
Catherine
Catherine pulled gently into the kerb about fifty yards from the bright lights of the Thai restaurant. Light snow carpeted the ground in a white lace blanket. But fine raindrops now interspersed with the flakes.
Catherine was disappointed. She could imagine the girls staring out of their bedroom with wonder and awe at the glistening conifer trees that lined the back garden. Their faces set in joy, their mouths forming wondrous ‘O’s in the middle of their delighted, excited faces. The magical event – or miracle, in their eyes – of snow two weeks before Christmas would send them to sleep with contented smiles on their faces.
Catherine forced her gaze away from the festive twinkling lights, illuminating the darkness of the closed shops. Tinsel hung haphazardly in every window. Figures of Santa, snowmen and reindeer assaulted her from every direction. She wondered if Tim had dressed the tree yet. It was a job they normally shared the weekend that had just passed. She ejected the pictures from her mind. They served only to remind her of the impersonal emptiness of her hotel room.
She checked her watch as she entered the restaurant. She was ten minutes early and hoped that was long enough to gather her thoughts for what she was about to do.
She was surprised to see Tim already seated. She was early but he was even more so. All thoughts of what she needed to say to him fled from her mind as he turned and smiled at her nervously. Every muscle and tendon in her body reacted to the look in his eyes and it took every ounce of effort she had not to launch herself across the tables and diners that separated them. She dropped her gaze to the floor. She had to stay strong. He didn’t know the whole story yet.
He stood as she approached and kissed her lips gently. ‘You look beautiful.’
Catherine smiled her thanks as she sat, but she doubted his words. A thirteen-hour day at the office being trampled by a team of people with nothing but problems did not make for a serene, attractive appearance, no matter how many times she re-applied the wonder that was Max Factor.
‘How is work?’ he asked, safely.
‘A bit like being bludgeoned by a herd of bison on a daily basis.’
‘That good?’ he asked, raising one eyebrow.
Catherine chuckled and began to relax. Why had her nerves been taut and strung all day? This was Tim. Her Tim. Because you don’t know how he’s going to react, said a voice inside her.
‘How are the girls?’ she asked, eagerly. Although she spoke to Tim daily she hadn’t seen the girls since she’d left the house almost a month earlier. She also wanted to steer Tim away from the subject of her work. With what she had to tell him she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing any hint of judgement creep into his eyes when he realised that her work had become the personal battleground on which she fought every day.
‘They’re wonderful,’ he replied. The old familiar light returned to his eyes. ‘They both made Christmas cards at school. Lucy’s was beautiful. She’d worked so hard on it. The letters were perfectly formed of silver glitter. There was painted holly in each corner. Inside it said, “To Mummy and Daddy, I just want you both for Christmas.”’
Catherine felt a lump in her throat. She felt a rush of longing for her serious, studious older child.
‘And Jess’s card?’
‘The words “Merry Xmas” scrawled in red pen and the words “Whatever Lucy said” written in the middle.’
Catherine laughed out loud. It was obvious that they hadn’t changed too much.
‘I’m not pressuring you, sweetheart. I understand that you have to do what is right for you, but it’s important you know that the girls miss you and want you to come home
. That’s not emotional blackmail. It’s to make you understand that whatever you feel you’ve done wrong, whatever kind of mother you think you’ve been, our girls love you very much and miss you terribly.’
Catherine swallowed the emotion that was building up in her throat. ‘If it’s any consolation, this isn’t easy for me, either.’
Tim shook his head and reached for her hand. ‘That gives me no pleasure at all.’
Catherine knew that he spoke the truth.
‘I’ve seen Alex and Beth,’ she blurted out.
His eyes registered pleased surprise. He’d always encouraged her to have more contact with her family, but that was without knowing the history they shared. Although he knew her childhood had been rough, she had placed herself like a barrier between him and the memories to protect them both. She hadn’t wanted the filth of that time to infect him. She’d been happier to have him completely distanced, sterile and safe from even knowing about it. But Emily had convinced her otherwise.
‘Tell me about them,’ he said, after the waiter had taken their order. By asking that, Catherine knew that Tim was attempting to delay the purpose of their meeting. She had given him no indication. She decided to enjoy his company before the painful work began.
Through their entire meal she talked of Beth and Alex, mainly Alex. Of her descent into alcoholism, of the terrible beatings.
‘She’s had it rough,’ Catherine said, as she pushed away the plate of half-eaten curry. ‘Yet some part of her wants to survive. There’s a will of steel buried somewhere deep inside her that even she isn’t properly aware of. She’s so spirited. She’s fiery and angry and full of emotion but she’s passionate.’
Tim smiled. ‘Remind you of anyone?’
A picture of Jess forged into her mind as though transferred by her husband. Catherine smiled. There were definite similarities.
An expectant silence fell between them. It was time and Catherine knew that it could be delayed no longer. She could feel Emily watching over her shoulder.
Coffee was placed before them and Catherine took a deep breath. ‘Tim, you know that I asked you to meet me tonight because I have something important to tell you.’
She paused and saw the fear in his eyes. He battled for a moment with his impulse to postpone or avoid whatever was about to come, but then resigned himself to hearing her out.
She reached across and touched his hand. ‘I deliberately chose a public place because I need you to sit and listen to what I have to say and let me finish. It’s going to be hard for you but please do as I ask.’ Her eyes implored him to respect her wishes. She could see the growing fear in his eyes and was quick to reassure him that it wasn’t what he was probably thinking. ‘I’m only able to do this, my darling, because I love you with all of my heart and trust you with my life.’
The terror left his eyes and only concern and tenderness remained.
‘I’ve never really told you much about my, our, childhood because I didn’t want you infected by even the knowledge of my memories. It’s not that I wanted to shut you out but more that I wanted to keep it out. I didn’t want it to follow me into this part of my life.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m beginning, with help, to realise that I can’t treat my past like a room that I’ve walked through and closed the door. It’s an impossible task. Somehow, those years have followed me and the events still haunt me now.
‘I can’t explain what was wrong with my mother except to say that she was just plain evil. She was never very loving, but when our father walked out she simply became unfeeling and mean. I can’t detail every beating that I had or what they were for. Some I can remember better than others and some are just a blur of blood and pain.’
‘Sweetheart…’ Tim said, rising to hold her.
Catherine held up her hands. ‘Please, don’t, Tim.’ She paused to get her thoughts in order. ‘I can’t even begin to explain how many different hells the three of us went through. Fear and anxiety lived in our stomachs from the moment we woke up to the moment we fell asleep. In our innocence we initially tried to adapt our behaviour to avoid the beatings. Kids are smart. If you get beaten for not making the bed properly you’ll make sure you do it right the next time.
‘And so it went. All three of us turned into good little robots – washed-out, scared versions of real children. We tiptoed around the house trying to do everything right to avoid the inevitable, but you see that was the trouble: however we acted, the beatings were inevitable.’ She heard a rueful laugh and realised it was her own. ‘I remember one time I was sent to the corner shop to get a tin of peas. When I came back I got a good hiding because once I’d left the house she’d changed her mind to carrots and I hadn’t had the sense to know that.
‘I think I was ten when I realised that day that no matter how hard I tried it didn’t make any difference. I kept the knowledge to myself. It was my little secret. I thought that I could still protect the others, especially Alex. I tried to make sure that she did everything right, just in case, but of course, she had other ideas.’
‘Were you close?’
Catherine nodded. ‘You can’t live through that without forming barriers and we did it for each other. We took care of each other and grew closer every day. I loved my sisters very much and would have killed for either of them.
‘I think we all sensed that the cruelty was getting worse. The frequency and reasons were changing. The violence began to erupt for imagined slights. Mother often thought we were making comments behind her back. Alex got a milk bottle smashed over her head for that. I once got a broken finger for apparently looking at Mother sideways when I entered the room. I was twelve years old.’
Horror was etched on Tim’s face. He looked older, haggard. Catherine knew he was reliving the memories with her, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t wish for anyone else to experience what she and her sisters had gone through.
‘When I was fourteen,’ she continued, casting her eyes towards the table, ‘our mother deliberately pushed Beth into an open fire and held her down with an iron poker because Alex and I were arguing.’ Throughout the story so far she had managed to remain unemotional and focus on replaying the events as distant memories. Now she felt her voice begin to tremble, but she fought to hold on to her control. ‘I can still hear her screams now,’ she said, shaking her head, trying to erase the memory of the sound from her mind. The emotion began to ball in her throat but she had to finish.
Tim’s gaze was riveted on her face but the colour had drained from his cheeks.
‘That night my mother placed me in care and told the authorities that I had hurt Beth.’
‘And they believed her?’
‘Of course. She was a very convincing liar. Back then child abuse was something that happened within the home. It was a shame, but no one really got involved,’ she said bitterly. ‘Neighbours had enough problems of their own and teachers weren’t equipped to deal with it even if they spotted the signs. So, yes, they believed her.’
Catherine took a deep breath in a vain attempt to compose herself, but she sensed it was useless. The tears were poised in her throat and going nowhere. ‘That night I was ripped away from my sisters. I felt lonely, abandoned and frightened.’
‘And guilty.’
Catherine nodded. ‘I couldn’t protect them,’ she said, and the tears overflowed from her eyes with the admission of that one simple truth.
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
Catherine reached for a tissue and wiped away the hot, bitter tears that were quickly replaced with new ones. She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. I could no longer take care of them. I worried about Alex and all the little things she did without thinking and that I had managed to cover up before Mother noticed. I worried about who was watching them through the night in case Mother got up and imagined some slight or mistake they’d made while they’d been sleeping. I was sick with fear about what would happen to them without me.’
The tears rolled from
her eyes as though being torn from a bleeding heart.
‘Sweetheart, what can I do to…?’
‘Let me finish. My mother used my own fears against me to keep me from seeing them. She told me that if I stayed away she would treat them better, but if I contacted them it would seal their fate.’ She shook her head, angrily. ‘And I believed her.’
‘Catherine, you were fourteen years of age going on thirty. How could you have controlled these events?’
‘I don’t know, but I just could.’
Catherine could hear her own petulant voice. She reined in her emotions. She had to make him understand something that she was only just coming to terms with herself.
‘For years my mother told me that I would be nothing and that I would never have anyone. She said I was a whore and a slut and good for nothing. She told me I was stupid and that no one would ever want me.’
A muscle in Tim’s cheek tightened and relaxed like a pulse.
‘Every night I was in that home I lay awake until the early hours devising ways in which to wreak vengeance on my mother. I planned and plotted and fantasised about violently hurting her and reclaiming my sisters, which in my reasonable mind I knew was impossible, but it got me through. After a while my thinking changed. I remembered all the things that she’d ever said to me and decided that the best revenge I could ever get was to make sure I didn’t become everything she said I would. Once the idea occurred to me I knew it was right. It gave me a focus and that became the only thing I could think about. It drove me through school, college and two jobs to pay for university. It drove me to you.’
He looked confused. ‘Am I part of your revenge?’
She shook her head. ‘You’re part of the vision that I aimed towards. You’re part of what I aspired to. I had this big picture in my mind of a great job, a nice house, a good husband and a couple of children. Two girls,’ she added, wryly. ‘To achieve the whole package was my sole aim. It was my proof that I was never what she said I was.’
Dear Mother: A gripping and emotional story that will make you sob your heart out Page 15