Why?

by Glynis Baxter

  I was with the sitter until there was an accident; it was such a pity as I loved going there. All four of us were playing in the garden, she had called us in for lunch, and after we had all settled down to watch the flower pot men on the television, halfway through the programme she sent us back into the garden so she could hoover up. I didn’t follow the other children out, but hid in the kitchen. I found myself shut in the kitchen with the dog, who became agitated when the hoover was switched on in the sitting room. The door from the kitchen to the sitting room was closed so we were both trapped in the kitchen. The dog’s whining was getting worse so I went over to her to simply pat her, but she immediately turned on me and sunk her teeth into my arm. I screamed, the door to the sitting room sprung open and there stood the stunned sitter. “Oh no, you were meant to be outside, are you OK?”

  She picked me up, abandoning the hoover, and carried me to the sofa. I was still sobbing, and looking at my arm that had the mark of the dog’s teeth on it, but had not broke the skin. She was rubbing the mark, humming softly and rocking me on her lap, when the door opened and my mum walked in. The sitter explained, apologised and reassured my mum that the dog had never ever bit someone before. Even though I was small, I felt guilty and partly responsible, I should have done as I was told, and followed the other children outside instead of being stubborn and hiding. My mum picked me up and placed me on her knee and instantly the tears stopped. She didn’t touch me so I was basically straddled on her lap. She looked at the injury tutted under her breath. The sitter was still apologising, but my mum told her not to worry as I seemed OK and we left. I never went back again.

  My mum decided it was time for me to go to school, so she enrolled me in the local school. There was no uniform at the school so you could go in normal clothes. My mum told me all about it, how I was a big girl now, was going to make new friends and would have a lovely teacher to take care of me. Holding my mum’s hand we approached the school on my first day. It looked huge and the building was in two parts: infants one end and primary the other, with two different entrances to access both parts. There was a line of children patiently waiting for the door to open to go in. I scanned the line they were all stood there boys with their back packs on, and the girls all scrubbed up with their hair in bunches looking immaculate. I looked at my mum unsure whether to approach, but then the school door opened and the line of children filed into their specified class rooms. A lady was stood by the door; he took my hand and led me to a classroom. “Danielle, put your coat and bag on one of the pegs, and then come and join the other children.”

  The children were all sat crossed-legged on a large mat facing the teacher. She was calling their names and one by one they were responding. I found the other children in the class distant, and no one approached me. At playtimes and dinnertimes I stood quietly alone, watching the other children play skipping, ball or simply running around. As I watched I became overwhelmed and burst into tears; I was sobbing uncontrollably, clinging onto the railed fence that made up the perimeter of the school boundary. I didn’t like it there, I didn’t want to go home, but home wasn’t nice either – but I was used to home, I wasn’t used to this. Everyday for the whole term I stood there sobbing, watching the other children. No one ever approached me not even the dinner ladies, they all just left me in my sad little world.

  Assembly took place in the church that was on the school grounds. We were all led in and sat quietly, waiting. After a few minutes a figure would appear to float in dressed in black and white. I managed to figure out who was under this bizarre outfit was female, she was wearing a black and white head covering and there was absolutely no sign of any hair. She was wearing what looked like an oversized black dress that reached to the floor there was no sign of any footwear, which is why she appeared to be floating as she entered the church and proceeded down the aisle. I would sit there in total awe at this figure taking our assembly not taking in one single word just gaping at her in total amazement. There was never a peep from any of the other children they were all totally transfixed on her. On the odd occasion she or one of the others dressed in these bizarre outfits would take our class, we would all sit there as quiet as mice, I don’t know if we were all in awe, or just terrified of the strange sight before us.

  The first school holiday, I woke up as normal, went downstairs but there was no one about. I was hungry. I sat at the dining room table and waited for someone to come to me, all the while conscious of the grumbling in my stomach. I peeked outside, I could see in the house opposite there was a family sat around a table laughing, while the mother was serving up breakfast. This made it worse I knew I was not allowed in their bedroom, I stood and listened for sounds of life outside the bedroom door, there was nothing. In the end I couldn’t stand it any longer even though I knew it was wrong I went to explore the kitchen for remnants of food. I couldn’t reach the top cupboards where the cereals were kept, I was to small. I checked the lower cabinets which contained nothing but cleaning products and a range of different alcohols. It felt like I had been left a long time, I opened the fridge there was nothing in there that a four year old could eat, except an open packet of cheese. I nervously took it out, shiftily looking around to ensure I wasn’t seen. I felt like a thief, I snapped of the end of the cheese and ate it, replacing the block of cheese and silently closed the door after me. After what seemed an age my dad, Jerry, walked in with his paper; not acknowledging me, he sat himself down in a chair and silently read it from cover to cover.

  The following day I woke up again no one was again in the house. This time I was not so anxious. I looked through the curtains to the house opposite. It appeared their parents weren’t up yet, the eldest had managed to hurl herself up onto the kitchen worktop and was precariously trying to reach for the biscuit tin. After a few attempts she managed to grab it and get the lid off, and with biscuits stuffed in her mouth she passed the tin down to her younger sibling who was patiently waiting.

  I wasn’t as hungry as I had been yesterday, so I went back up to my room and got out a colouring book and started to entertain myself. After colouring in two or three pages I decided I needed something to eat, there were no biscuits in the house, we never had biscuits or sweets in. So again I approached the fridge like a thief in the night, anxiously looking around fearful I would be caught. I nervously opened the fridge and reached for the cheese, glancing back for a final time, there was my dad staring at me through the kitchen window. My heart stopped and I froze to the spot, as I heard his key in the lock I flew up to my room, I could hear his footsteps on the stairs as he approached my room and entered. He stood there and simply bent his finger beckoning me towards him. Trembling I stepped forward, in a flash he grabbed me by my lower legs, causing me to spin upside down in his grasp. He marched downstairs, adjusted his hold on me as my small ankles were in the grasp of his left hand – his hold was so tight it hurt. Smashing open the back door leading onto the yard, he flung open one of the outside doors and, with me still dangling upside down he lowered me head first into the ice cold water of the outside toilet. I could hear my chest pounding but I was too scared to scream, my nose filled up with water and I was wriggling violently in his grasp. He lifted me a few inches from the surface of the water and left me dangling there. I was conscious of the fact that any second he could plunge me under again. He lowered me lower towards the water and lifted me up and down in the toilet bowl like some evil assassin teasing his helpless victim. Finally he raised me up placed me on the floor, and I tearfully fled back to my room.

  3

  I never mentioned the event to my mum, she was hardly ever around so I simply shelved it in the back of my memory. I was told off by my mum though, told never to help myself to anything again especially cheese, as it was so expensive and it had made my dad cross. She told me I should have waited as he was coming back, and he would have sorted me out something on his return.

  I tried to avoid my dad as much as I could, kee
ping out of his way whenever he was at home. Odd times he would amaze me. I would still greet him on his return from work, and on the very rare occasion he would say, “You want some sweets, young-en?” My dad leading, I would be skipping down the street after him feeling proud I was out with my dad if only for the short walk to the corner shop. He would tell me to wait outside the shop, and after a few minutes he would return and hand me a small white bag with a few sweets in. I would light up, feeling chuffed at being acknowledged and getting his attention, and skip ahead of him back up to the house with a lollipop sticking out of my mouth. As soon as we got back in, he would be straight back into his paper, but I was happy, I felt if just for a minute he cared.

  As I was breaking up for the summer holidays, my mum informed me I was going to see my grandparents up north so I needed an early night, as we would be up first thing to catch the coach. My mum had packed a lovely lunch for the journey, and she was dressed up to the nines, and her hair looked like it had been newly permed. It was the first time I had been away and I was excited at going away with my mum and having her all to myself for the holidays.

  We caught the coach first thing, and when we arrived up north it was dark. My mum flagged down a taxi, which pulled up outside a modern semi-detached property. My grandparents came straight out to meet us, my grandma was slightly shorter than my mum with the same short permed hair as her, and wearing glasses, she greeted us with the biggest grin ever asking us about our journey. My granddad was around the same height as my mum around 5ft 3inches, but he was thinning on top and was very slight of build.

  We were ushered into the house, and as soon as we entered it felt warm and inviting. The smell of food was wafting through the house and a small dog came running up to greet us. Ignoring the adult conversation I was on all fours getting acquainted with my new best mate whether she wanted it or not. “That’s Tanya, hinny, she’s a corgi.” looking up from where I was kneeling and struggling to get a grasp of this strange accent replied, “Hinny? What’s that?” Everyone laughed and my granddad replied, “That’s you, hinny.”

  Dinner was served at a large table in the dining room. I couldn’t believe my eyes: it was a full Sunday dinner and it was only Friday. After my grandma brought out dessert – homemade apple pie and custard – I ate till I nearly burst. After, I was dozing off on the sofa, so my mum showed me up to my room which was a pretty single room. On the bed was a small white teddy bear. My mum tucked me up tight into the bed, which had been preheated by a hot water bottle, and I snuggled down with my new bear friend.

  The next morning my mum came into me and woke me first thing. “Danielle, I am going to have to leave you here for the six weeks holiday, I will be returning back home this morning, I have just come into say goodbye, but don’t you worry I will be back for you before the new term starts.” Rubbing my eyes I sat up in bed and looked at her in disbelieve, I didn’t want her to go, I had been looking forward to having her all to myself, I didn’t know these people. As if reading my mind, she continued, “Danielle, your grandparents live such a long way from us and they have been looking forward to seeing you. You don’t want to hurt their feeling by saying you’re coming back with me? They will take really good care of you, so don’t worry, OK? you need to be a big girl.”

  The tears were welling up in my eyes and I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded my response, kissing me on the top of the head she smiled and walked out the room closing the bedroom door softly after her. I was unable to get back to sleep so in the end I got up, put on the new dressing gown and slippers my mum bought me for the holiday and tiptoed down the stairs.

  My mum and grandma were busy in the kitchen sorting out a packed lunch for my mum’s return journey. I didn’t want to look at my mum as I was cross with her. They were constantly chatting and it took them a moment to realise I was stood there clinging on for dear life to the teddy bear from my room. My grandma was the first to speak. “Morning, did you sleep well? Go and sit at the table and I will fetch you some breakfast.” Not responding, I did as commanded, and waited patiently for her to bring my food through. Tanya had settled at the side of my chair; I felt like kicking her as I felt powerless and like I was on the verge of being abandoned. While I was eating my mum came into say her goodbyes, I refused to respond to her and never looked up from my breakfast.

  There was no sign of my granddad, as he had gone to work at the local shipyard in Walker where they lived, so it was just my grandma and me, who was busying herself with her chores. I was pleased I never kicked the dog in frustration because, as it turned out, she became my best friend in the six weeks I was there. I spent hours with her, teaching her new tricks. My aunties would call in every morning to take her a walk and I would go with them to the local park, throwing the ball for Tanya. On the way home we would always go to the local shopping centre where they would treat me to a cornet of my choice as it turned out tootie fruity was my favorite.

  Granddad always returned home at half past twelve from the shipyard and grandma had dinner ready; it was always a scrummy meal with a dessert to follow. While there, I had my sixth birthday, and my grandma baked. There was everything under the sun: scones, pastries, buns, a homemade birthday cake and it was all really nice. My aunties and grandparents were there and they made such a real fuss of me that I never even missed my mum. For the whole of the holiday I felt safe; I had started to gain a little weight and gained a few inches in height. At the end of the six weeks my mum came to collect me, and we traveled back on the coach.

  I was dreading going back to the house and seeing my dad, but when entering the house a huge white dog came pounding up to me, nearly sending me flying off my feet. I looked at my mum, puzzled. “This is Theresa, she has come to live with us,” I loved Theresa instantly, she was a Samoyed all white and fluffy without a nasty bone in her body. I confided in her, she comforted me when things were hard at home. I played with her, dressing her up in numerous ridiculous outfits and she allowed me to ride on her back. I would cuddle up to her nuzzling into her, fur and we would both drift peacefully off to sleep, she made me feel secure and safe. She was the only thing in my mad existence I could rely on.

  The following school holiday, my mum had arranged a new sitter – a teenage girl – she was lots of fun. She played with me and Theresa endlessly, took me to the park and taught me how to use my imagination while playing with my toys. On the Saturday she called in to collect her baby sitting money, my mum was furious with her saying, “Cigarette cards have gone missing, and it had to be you that has done it. You aren’t welcome anymore.” The sitter was obviously taken aback by the allegation and refused all knowledge of the crime. She said she had called in to take me to the park and told me to get my coat. My mum told her I was going nowhere as my grandma was visiting from up north. The sitter left obviously upset at being accused, and losing a week’s pay. I sat at the front window all day looking out for my grandma but she never arrived, when I asked about it she simply explained there had been some complication and they couldn’t make it.

  My mum and dad had started arguing, on the first morning of my return back to school my bedroom door flew open, startling me awake. Bleary-eyed I rolled over in bed to find my dad standing in my doorway completely naked. I had never seen anything like it; I threw the covers over my head too fearful to look. “Danielle, get out of that bed now and get dressed, god help you if I have to drag you out.” I peeped over the top of the cover, wondering where my mum was, I could see her at the end of the corridor sat up in bed with the covers up to her chin, not making any effort to get herself up and come to my rescue or even chastise him in anyway. I slowly got up, fearful he may return at any moment, got my breakfast and left the house on my own to the sanctuary of my school for a few hours.

  The arguing between them was getting worse, it was relentless. As my dad entered the house as usual, even though I was scared of him I would go over to him and say my usual “Hello Dad”. After all, y
ou never know this could be one of the days I got some sweets. “Danielle, he is NOT your dad. Stop calling him that, he doesn’t like it. Call him Jerry, and get away from him.” I was still looking up at my dad, as she was saying this he was instantly furious, “How dare you, you heartless bitch.” He threw his work bag down and stormed out the house.

  I was left stood in the middle of the sitting room trying to process this new information, so my dad wasn’t my dad, how was this even possible? I knew from bitter experience not to question her about this new revelation, she made no effort to explain what had been said so I was left to ponder what all this meant,

  The following morning there was no sign of my dad/Jerry I didn’t know what to think and I couldn’t take it in. When I went downstairs Mum was busying herself making breakfast. As she turned around her face was black on one side and she had a huge bruise on her left eye. I stood wide-mouthed looking at her, she beckoned me to the table to get my breakfast, not commenting on her injuries at all. A few weeks later I asked my mum when she appeared calmer, what she meant by Jerry not being my dad. She calmly explained to me that Jerry was my step dad. I asked her, where my real dad was? and why I never saw him? Calmly and sincerely, she explained that my real dad was dead, that he had died when I was a baby, and that’s why I could not remember him.

  4

  Things at home returned back to normal, and I still kept calling Jerry, “Dad”. I did try not to, and over time it got easier, but at first I found it hard to adapt. My mum and Jerry were still arguing violently and the black eyes and bruises I woke up to on my mother, became a normal part of life. When things were difficult I would snuggle up to Theresa, crying into her coat, getting comfort from the warmth of her fur and body. She felt like my only friend in the world, and I would sit and chat to her confiding to her how I felt, and she would look back at me with her big brown eyes taking it all in, but not judging or dismissing my feelings.