Why?

by Glynis Baxter

  “Danielle, it is so good to see you. I can’t believe you are here.” Standing up he came up to me, wrapping me in his embrace. Flinching, I shuddered under his touch.

  “Danielle, let’s go somewhere a bit more private and talk.”

  He led us to the corner of the room well away from prying ears. “There’s not been a day gone by that I have not thought about you.”

  His eyes were filling with tears. I felt numb; I knew this was my dad but I felt nothing for him, it was like meeting a stranger for the first time. Maureen was watching intently.

  “Look, Dad what do you want? You have not bothered with me, so why are you bothering now?”

  Frowning and looking hurt he reached his hand out to touch mine. “Danielle, no. You have got it all wrong. I came to see you when you were younger and took you out a few times, don’t you remember?”

  Remember? The very words made me shudder at the memory of me shivering in the cold waiting for him.

  “Don’t make me laugh. OK, yes, I have seen you, what, three times in my entire life, but you soon got bored with that, and decided to not show up on your last visit. Don’t give me all this sentimental crap.”

  Shaking his head he said, “No, no, you have it all wrong. I was there when you were born, Danielle, your mum and I split up when you were around eighteen months old. I don’t want to speak ill of your mother but it was her doing she was messing around on me. I left, leaving her and you in the house. Maureen and I met after all this and got married a few years after; your mum started moving around a lot after that and I lost contact with both of you. I finally tracked you down when she had married Jerry and I loved taking you out and was heartbroken when your mum stopped me seeing you. That’s why I left my phone number so you could contact me.”

  I was hearing him but the words weren’t going in I needed answers. “So where was I born?”

  “Seventh Avenue, Clipstone. You are the only one I have got, and you were born at home.”

  “What do you mean my mum stopped you seeing me?”

  “Well I went to collect you as arranged but your mum said your stepdad was giving you a hard time for seeing me, so asked me to stay away.”

  Damn her. So she had stopped me seeing my dad and lied about everything, but then again how could I believe him? He was a stranger to me, a stranger who had hurt me in the past. “OK then, Dad answer this. Yes you did give me your number, but then the following week you were meant to take me out but never showed.”

  “No what makes you think that? I was told to keep away I would never not show up if I had arranged to see you.”

  Reality hit me, hit me like a ton of bricks. “Sorry I need to go, I can’t be here right now.”

  My dad was scribbling on a piece of paper. “Here take this. I never changed my number. Never changed it, just in case one day you would call.”

  My hand was shaking as I took the paper.

  “Please call Danielle.” Promising I would, I left.

  38

  I felt physically sick. I was not sure if it was from the effects of the whisky I had downed, the shock revelation that my whole life, or what I believed was my life, was a lie, a lie concocted by my mum. Everything I believed about myself was a lie: so I was never born in a mental hospital, my mum had never had a breakdown, my dad had never had an affair and left us for Maureen and her kids. He had wanted to see me, but my mum had stopped him and then made me sit outside waiting for him, knowing he would never show.

  Why on earth would she say all this? Do all this to someone she was meant to love, make up such crazy lies? Was it a control thing? Was she on some kind of crazed power trip? She had been while I was growing up my main carer, after all there had been no one else. I needed to think, well try and think. There were so many questions and yet I did not know what to believe or who to believe. That night I tossed and turned in bed, trying to make sense of this new revelation, but no matter how hard I tried to rationalise it all I was incapable of believing my mother was such a cruel fake.

  What if my dad was lying to make himself seem the injured party, to look better in my eyes. I needed someone to talk to, someone who knew both my mum and dad and who would be unbiased and who knew them from the start, I needed my grandma.

  The next morning, throwing a few essentials into a case, I caught the National Express coach to Newcastle Upon Tyne. I had called ahead and though my grandma sounded surprised to hear from me after so long she was excited I was going to see her. The journey up was reminicent of the many journeys I had taken with my mother while I was younger, and I had to keep swallowing hard to stop the tears forming as I remembered the packed lunches she had made and the small talk we used to have on our trip up.

  I was kind of hoping that my grandma would dismiss what my dad had said and back up my mum’s story, but deep down I already knew the outcome, and it made me sick to think my own mother could do this to me her own daughter, her only child. On arriving at my auntie’s house where my grandma was now living since my grandad had passed away, I nervously rang the doorbell. After what felt a lifetime my grandma opened the door.

  “Danielle, come in. My, haven’t you grown.”

  Stepping into the hallway I followed her into the lounge. “I bet you’re ready for a drink after your journey, I will put the kettle on and then we can have a catch up, hinny.”

  Handing me the steaming cup of tea, we settled ourselves on the cream leather settee. My aunt’s house was immaculate; they had lived in the same house since they were married and over the years made endless improvements.

  “Well I must admit it’s nice to see you, is there a particular reason for the visit?”

  Blushing I struggled to find the words – how was I going to explain this to her?

  Looking at my grandma sitting opposite me, she looked so weak and fragile, a shadow of her former self. How the hell was I going to approach this? She was sat looking at me all expectantly.

  “Grandma, how are you? Are you enjoying living here?”

  “I am well thanks, getting older as you do, but happy and I love being here. I have my own space, but have people here if I need them.”

  I could see in her face it was all genuine she was beaming.

  “I am so pleased for you, Gran, I would hate for you to be lonely.”

  “I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me, but more importantly how are you? You look tired, Danielle, and your mum, how is she?” The look I shot at her at the mere mention of my mother’s name; gave the game away. “Oh no what’s happened?”

  Taking a deep breath and without going into too much detail I explained how my dad had got back in touch after all these years.

  My grandma looked surprised and taken aback. “I often wondered why you never mentioned your dad. He was not really what I would have wanted for your mum, I had nothing against him, it was just he was in the army working abroad when they met, and I always feared he would be killed or take her away. I was surprised when they split. You were so young at the time; we tried to convince her to move back so we could be there for her, but your mum was having none of it.”

  So there it was. The truth as I had expected was out; my whole life had been a crazy lie concocted by my so-called mother.

  “Gran, can you remember where I was born? And how old I was when he left?”

  “At home. Everyone had their babies at home in those days. And I don’t honestly remember how old you were, but you were either crawling or toddling, it was a long time ago, Danielle.”

  So there it all was, the clarification I needed to confirm my dad’s story and blow my mother’s to kingdom come. “So what are you going to do, are you going to see him? I bet you have a load of questions you need answering.”

  Sighing, I shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know right now”

  “I know it’s difficult but I think you should give hi
m a chance. From what I can remember he doted on you, it’s such a shame you lost contact.”

  I could feel myself starting to well up so quickly changed the subject to more mundane things. “If it’s OK with you. I will stay tomorrow and travel back Wednesday.It would be nice to have a catch up with my relatives while I am here.”

  39

  On the return journey home I was livid, livid that my mother had the ability to turn my world upside down and affect me the way she did. That she could use my grandma, a sweet, fragile old lady, making out she was ill to get control over me as she knew it was the only way I would have acknowledged her. Depriving me of the relationship I could have had, and should have had with my father, for having to put up with her neglect and mental and emotional abuse. For the torment she had caused me and the emotional scars I would probably never heal from.

  I was having her, as soon as I got back I was going round and giving her what for. The coach was pulling into a service station for a toilet stop etc, and I was cursing the driver just itching to get back. My grandma had packed me a lunch but I had not touched it as my stomach was in knots and I could not stomach it. She had also got me a magazine for the journey back. My head was to full to take any of the information in, but it was looking pretty tattered and worn where I had been twisting it round and round in sheer frustration.

  It was dark when the coach pulled into the Mansfield bus station. Jumping off I ran to the stop where the bus pulled in to take me to my mother’s. Checking the time table, the next bus was due in around half an hour. Damn, I hated these evening buses. Pacing the bus station, cursing under my breath, I had no choice but to wait. My head was spinning with what I was going to say. I had worked it out exactly for the best effect so I just had to hold my nerve and do it. Finally the bus pulled in, I could feel myself hesitating – did I really want to confront her? Was I strong enough to go through with it. Sitting down I watched the passengers depart the bus, there was no one else waiting to get on so it was now or never. The driver seeing me watching him, smiled and beckoned me forward. Passing him my fare my hands were shaking and I fumbled to pick up my change from the tray. Taking my seat I cursed myself for being so weak, but I had never had a voice, never been allowed to speak up for myself, I had been downtrodden and put down for as long as I could remember, so no wonder I was petrified facing my persecutor.

  Walking up the drive, the living room light was on. I could see through the window that she was sat in her usual place a book in hand and a bottle and glass at the side of her. Not knocking, I walked straight in. The dog, curled up in his basket, jumped up, tail wagging to greet me. Looking up from her book, surprised to see me, she smiled, “Danielle, I have been so worried about you. How did it go with your dad? Sit down and tell me all about it.”

  “I’m not here on a social visit, so no I won’t be sitting down, and yes I did see my dad. In fact it was quite an eye-opener.”

  Looking visibly shaken my mother stood up. “I don’t understand, why, what happened?” she asked.

  “Don’t give me all this false sympathy. The game’s up; I know everything. I know all the lies you concocted, all about the poison you fed me as a child about my dad. You’re sick, sick in the head.”

  “Look, Danielle, I don’t know what rubbish your dad has been telling you but I can assure you, I never lied to you.”

  Putting my head back, laughing, mocking her I said, “There you go again. You can’t help yourself, even when your bang to rights you keep digging. My dad’s told me the truth and I have had it confirmed. You stopped me seeing him, even told me he was dead and you’re trying to tell me that’s normal.”

  Tears were welling up in my mum’s eyes but I was not giving an inch. The times I had cried, too scared and ashamed to speak to anyone. “I am done with you, done with you and your sick fantasies.”

  Walking towards me she had her arms outstretched to me, “Please, Danielle, I was only thinking of you. He was never bothered about you, I was protecting you from the truth.” she was inches away from my face but I was not backing down.

  “The truth? You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face.”

  “Danielle, he’s not your dad, that’s why I kept you away.”

  I could take no more of this. “STOP! Stop with your malicious lies. I don’t want to hear them anymore.”

  Turning away from her she grabbed my wrist. “NO, you must listen. It’s the truth.”

  Her touch sickened me I wanted her nowhere near me, “Get off me!” Pulling my hand away she went to grab me again. Pushing her away from me she staggered backwards, losing her balance and went crashing through the glass-top table she had her drink placed on.

  The sound of the breaking glass was ear-shattering, and she had landed on the floor with an almighty thud. She was not moving. Standing there looking at her, I felt nothing, no remorse just empty. The dog had come running in and was walking through all the fragments of glass; my first concern was picking him up so he didn’t get cut. What was I going to do? Do the logical thing and call an ambulance, leave? After all no one is here, who would be any the wiser? After all it’s not like I owed her anything. Yes, sod her, she can rot for all I cared. If Ryan came back he would figure she got wasted as usual, and fell when drunk.

  Making sure I covered my tracks of being in the house, I let the dog out for a wee, filled his bowls up, ensured he was unable to get in the lounge and left. I must have made it a hundred yards down the street before turning back, my conscience getting the better of me. No I couldn’t leave her like that. Damn her, I hated this hold she had over me. Ringing 999 I sat and waited for the inevitable: she had got her power back.

  The story continues in the next book: WHEN!!!