by Cathy Glass
‘I’d rather he came home more and had less money,’ Adrian said.
My heart went out to him. So would I, I thought, but I didn’t say so. John was very career orientated and I had to respect that. He believed he’d made the right decision in accepting the promotion, and I supported him in it and would never undermine his decision by voicing my concerns.
‘Dad shouldn’t have to work away for too much longer,’ I added.
‘How long?’ Adrian asked.
‘If all goes well, he thought about six months,’ I said. ‘Which will mean he’ll be home for the summer. You’ll be able to play cricket and football with him in the evenings and at weekends like you used to.’
Adrian cheered up a little at this thought and managed a small nod.
‘OK, love?’ I asked.
‘I guess.’
‘Now, I can’t really leave Paula any longer, and Beth needs to telephone her father, so can we continue our chat a little later?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Thank you. And believe me, I do know how much you miss your dad, but it shouldn’t be for much longer.’
Adrian smiled and I kissed his forehead. ‘You’re not too old for hugs and kisses from your mum, are you?’ I said.
Adrian laughed, aware of what was to come. He covered his head with his hands as I took him in my arms and began kissing him all over his face, head and neck, as I used to when he was little. He laughed and giggled and made ‘ugh’ noises, and jokingly tried to push me off. ‘Ahh, help!’ he cried. ‘Someone save me!’
With a final shower of kisses and a big hug, I released him and stood. Still laughing, he wiped the sleeve of his jersey over his face as though wiping off the kisses, as boys of his age often do.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I’ve seen to the girls,’ I said, also laughing.
I went downstairs to Beth and Paula, who were still in the living room, now sitting on the sofa next to each other with Beth – bless her – reading Paula a story. ‘Thank you, love,’ I said to Beth.
‘Is it time to telephone my daddy?’ Beth asked, closing the book.
‘Yes. Come on.’
Indeed, it was one minute to seven and I daren’t be late phoning Derek after all the upset I’d caused him. However, Paula wasn’t washed and ready for bed yet, and that would take at least fifteen minutes. It then occurred to me that, as I wasn’t allowed to speak to Derek – just to make the call – and there was no reason why Derek and Beth shouldn’t be left alone, once Derek was on the phone I could leave Beth talking to him while I got Paula ready for bed.
Beth was already skipping up the stairs in eager anticipation of telephoning her father. Paula and I followed, counting the steps as we went. The three of us went into my bedroom, where Beth propped herself on the bed.
‘Is she staying?’ Beth asked me, referring to Paula.
‘Just until I’ve got your father on the phone,’ I said.
I dialled the number of the hospital and asked for Ward 3. When I was put through to the ward, I asked for Derek. The nurse called him and he came to the telephone straight away. ‘Hello,’ he said, sounding slightly subdued.
Without speaking, I passed the telephone to Beth. ‘Hi, Daddy!’ Beth cried, grinning. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine now,’ I heard Derek say, perking up.
‘Come on, love,’ I said to Paula. ‘Bath and bedtime.’
Leaving my bedroom door open so that I could hear Beth if she needed me, I took Paula into the bathroom, which was next door, and left that door slightly open too. As Beth spoke to her father, I ran Paula’s bath, dropped in her plastic bath toys and then helped her undress and clamber in. I could hear Beth talking, but not her father’s replies – I was too far away. They’d begun by saying how fantastic it was that they would be seeing each other on Friday, and Beth had asked him what games they could play in the hospital and how long she could stay.
Paula played with her toys in her bath and Adrian played in his room as I washed Paula. Beth’s words floated in. They’d finished talking about her visit on Friday, and Beth was now telling her father what she was wearing. As usual, she’d changed out of her school uniform and into a dress as soon as we’d arrived home. She’d spent a considerable amount of time trying to decide which dress to wear.
‘It’s the lilac dress with little flowers on,’ she said. ‘The one with the lacy petticoat.’
Beth was then silent as Derek replied. Beth laughed and then said, ‘Yes, I’ve brushed my hair. It’s all shiny, but not as nice as when you do it. Will you brush my hair on Friday?’
Derek replied and Beth giggled. ‘Of course I’ve got clean knickers on,’ she exclaimed. ‘Daddy, you are funny.’
Beth fell silent again for some time as Derek spoke, and then Beth cried, ‘Yippee! I’ve wanted my ears pierced for ages. Can we buy those studs with the little diamonds? We both liked those.’
Clearly Derek had agreed to Beth having her ears pierced. Personally I thought she was too young, although I knew that many girls of her age had their ears pierced, and some boys did too. As Beth’s father, it was Derek’s decision as to whether she was old enough for ear-piercing, and if I thought that the ensuing discussion they had about going to the jewellers and choosing the earrings sounded more like a couple choosing an engagement ring, I pushed the thought from my mind. I’d been wrong; I wasn’t going down that path again.
I finished bathing Paula and then helped her out of the bath while half listening to Beth. I wrapped Paula in a large, soft bath towel and while she began drying herself I let the water out of the bath and rinsed it out. I then helped Paula to dress in her clean pyjamas. Beth’s voice had grown serious now and sounded quite authoritative. ‘Tell the doctor I can look after you at home,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to stay in hospital. Or shall I tell him when I see him on Friday?’
Derek said something, which I guessed was probably no, for Beth then said: ‘OK. You tell the doctor. But make sure he knows I can look after you. It’s just you and me, and we’ll be fine. We don’t need help.’
Paula and I went round the landing to her bedroom where she chose some storybooks for me to read. I lay beside her on the bed and began reading the first picture book while Beth continued on the telephone. Paula’s bedroom was further away from my room than the bathroom was, so I couldn’t hear what Beth was saying. Only when she laughed or exclaimed loudly did I hear her clearly: ‘Oh Daddy! You are funny!’ or similar.
Two picture books later, Beth suddenly appeared at Paula’s bedroom door. ‘Daddy was tired, so we’ve said goodbye,’ she said, coming in.
‘I’m sure he’s very tired with all that talking.’ I smiled. ‘You’ve been on the telephone for quite a while.’
‘Can I share Paula’s story like I did last night?’ Beth asked.
‘Yes, or I could read you a story of your own later, when I’ve finished reading to Paula?’ I suggested.
‘I’d rather listen to Paula’s story,’ Beth said, clambering in beside Paula, who was making room for her. Then, suddenly remembering something, Beth exclaimed: ‘Oh dear! I forgot to tell my daddy I want him to read me bedtime stories when I go home.’
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘You can tell him another time.’
‘I’ll tell my daddy when I see him on Friday,’ Beth declared.
‘My daddy isn’t coming home on Friday,’ Paula said, looking at me with big sad eyes.
‘No, but he will come home the next Friday,’ I said, and kissed her cheek.
I didn’t want Paula upset by Beth talking about seeing her father, so I quickly returned to the safety of the book: Wise Owl sat in his usual tree at the bottom of the garden. ‘What’s up, Mousey?’ Wise Owl asked, swooping down and landing silently beside him. ‘Your whiskers are drooping and your tail’s gone limp. There’s something bothering you.’
That evening at bedtime Beth was still very excited at the prospect of seeing her father on Friday – so excited, in fact, th
at she couldn’t get off to sleep. She was in bed, snuggled on her side, and had gone through the ritual of kissing the photograph of her father, which she’d returned to beneath the pillow. I’d given her Mr Sleep Bear to help and I was now perched on the edge of the bed lightly stroking her forehead until she fell asleep. In the light coming from the landing I could see the bookshelves containing the framed photographs of Beth and her father. I thought how strange it was that a person’s views could so easily be influenced and coloured by what they believed. I’d believed the photographs were inappropriate because I’d thought Derek’s relationship with Beth was inappropriate. I’d seen things in the pictures that weren’t there.
Or had I? Try as I might, as I ran my eyes over the pictures waiting for Beth to fall asleep, I couldn’t help but think that Beth seemed older in the photographs – more sophisticated and mature – than she did in person. Which added weight to Marianne’s comment that Beth and Derek were more like lovers than father and daughter. I turned away and concentrated on something else.
Chapter Nine
Sexualizing the Innocent
As Beth was looking forward to seeing her father on Friday, I was willing the day to come. I hoped that then her conversation – at present dominated by seeing her father – would be replaced by more general talk. Of course I was pleased that Beth was able to see her father, but her continuous chatter about her wonderful daddy wasn’t helping Adrian and Paula. They were disappointed enough already that they wouldn’t be seeing their father at the weekend. This seemed to be rubbing it in.
‘I don’t know what to wear when I see my daddy tomorrow,’ Beth declared over dinner on Thursday evening.
‘It might be a good idea to choose something this evening,’ I suggested. ‘Jessie will be collecting you at four o’clock tomorrow, so you won’t have much time then.’
‘Good idea,’ Beth said. ‘I’ll choose my dress after dinner. Then I can tell my daddy what I’m going to wear when I talk to him tonight. I am phoning him tonight, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, love. You are,’ I said.
‘So I’ll tell him what I’m going to wear then.’
‘Will he want to know?’ Adrian asked, glancing up. ‘I don’t think my dad is especially interested in what we wear.’
Good point, I thought. Meeting Adrian’s gaze, I threw him a reassuring smile. Of course John liked the children to look smart, just as I did, especially if we were going out, but he wasn’t interested in the detail. I doubted many men were.
‘My daddy always wants to know what I’m wearing,’ Beth persisted. ‘Sometimes he chooses what I wear and sometimes we choose it together.’
Adrian returned to his dinner, which was far more interesting than Beth’s talk of clothes, as she continued: ‘Perhaps I’ll wear my yellow dress. Or I could wear the blue one again. I’ve got a blue necklace and bracelet that go with the blue dress. I think I remembered to pack them.’ And so it went on.
I smiled politely.
As soon as Beth had finished eating, she asked if she could leave the table to go to her room and choose her dress for the following day. I readily agreed. She slipped from her chair and skipped out of the room and upstairs.
‘Can I go to my room and choose a dress?’ Adrian said with a smile.
‘You don’t wear dresses, silly,’ Paula said, not appreciating that he was joking.
‘We have to be patient,’ I said. ‘Beth’s very excited about seeing her father, which is only natural.’
‘Can I have a blue dress like Beth’s?’ Paula asked.
‘And me!’ Adrian added. ‘And a necklace and bracelet to match, please.’
I cleared away the dinner things and then went upstairs to see how Beth was getting on. Paula came with me. Beth’s bedroom door was wide open and we went in. Her wardrobe was open and every drawer too, with most of the contents strewn across the bed, chair and floor. It looked like an upmarket bring-and-buy sale. Beth was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all the clothes and looking very fraught.
‘I really can’t decide what to wear!’ she declared, close to tears.
I thought this had gone far enough. ‘I think I’ll decide which dress you wear,’ I said. ‘Then it won’t cause you a problem.’
I thought she might object but instead she looked at me relieved. ‘Yes, please, you choose,’ she said.
‘You’ve got lots of clothes,’ Paula said as I began picking through them.
‘Yes, and they’ve all got to be put away,’ I pointed out.
I quickly singled out a dress; it was one of the few that were suitable for winter. Made from a warm pink-and-grey check material, it had long sleeves. ‘This is perfect,’ I said enthusiastically, holding it up.
Beth stood for a moment, hands on hips, considering the dress and then finally smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said.
I hoped Paula didn’t pick up any grand ideas about what she should wear. I put the dress to one side and then began gathering together the other clothes. Beth helped, so too did Paula by collecting up the packets of children’s lacy tights that were scattered across the floor. We finished just before seven o’clock and then the three of us went into my bedroom, where Beth propped herself on the bed ready to telephone her father. Once Derek was on the line I passed the telephone to Beth and, following our new routine, took Paula into the bathroom for her bath. I could hear Beth talking as I bathed Paula; she was telling her father of the problems she’d had trying to choose a dress, until I’d come to the rescue. She then described the dress I’d chosen and the matching necklace and bracelet she was thinking of wearing with it. I was only half listening as I was finding Beth’s chatter about clothes tedious. Girls of her age should be thinking about more interesting things. Eventually I called out: ‘Tell your daddy what you did at school today. And about your class assembly. I’m sure he’ll be interested.’ I thought that even Derek must be tiring of all the dress talk by now.
Beth did as I suggested, although I was too far away to hear Derek’s reply. Then Beth asked him what he’d had for his dinner and if he had eaten it all.
Once Paula was ready for bed I took her into her room where she chose some books for me to read. I’d read one story when Beth joined us.
‘Have you finished talking to your daddy?’ Paula asked, making room for Beth beside her on the bed.
‘Yes, and I’m seeing him tomorrow. I’m so happy.’
‘This book is called Grandma’s Shopping,’ I said, opening the next picture book.
‘I haven’t got a grandma,’ Beth said.
‘I have,’ Paula said. ‘And a grandpa. They’re very nice and they love us lots.’
I smiled. ‘You’ll meet them soon,’ I said to Beth. And I began the story.
The following morning Beth was unusually quiet and hardly said a word at breakfast. I’d been expecting her to be very talkative about seeing her father that afternoon, so I was immediately concerned that something was troubling her. I also noticed she wasn’t eating as well as she usually did.
‘Are you all right, love?’ I asked as she toyed with her cereal.
She set her spoon in her bowl and looked at me seriously. ‘No. I’m very worried,’ she said, frowning.
Adrian, Paula and I all looked at her, concerned.
‘What are you worried about, love?’ I asked, setting down my mug of coffee so that I could give her my full attention. ‘Can you tell me? I might be able to help.’
Beth looked at me, clearly deep in thought, and frowned again. I wondered what on earth it could be that was troubling her. She usually voiced her concerns reasonably easily.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘I don’t want to wear the dress you chose. I want to wear my red one.’
‘Is that what you’re worrying about?’ Adrian asked incredulously, taking the words right out of my mouth.
Beth nodded.
‘Beth, love,’ I said gently. ‘Your daddy will love you whatever you wear.
It’s you he wants to see, not your dress.’
‘But I want to look nice for him,’ Beth persisted.
‘And you will. Now finish your breakfast. We don’t want to be late for school.’
‘I don’t want any more,’ Beth said, pushing the bowl of half-eaten cereal away. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘All right, leave what you don’t want.’
Beth got down from the table and went upstairs to brush her teeth. I quickly drained the last of my coffee and went upstairs after her. I wanted to talk to her alone.
‘Beth, love,’ I said, going into the bathroom, ‘are you sure there’s nothing worrying you – apart from which dress to wear?’ For it seemed incredible to me that choosing what to wear could cause a child this much consternation. I wondered if it was masking a more deep-seated problem that Beth was finding difficult to share. ‘Your daddy is being well looked after in hospital,’ I reassured her, wondering if this was the problem.
‘I know he is,’ Beth said. ‘And I’m seeing him later, but I don’t know what to wear.’
‘You’d tell me if there was anything else worrying you, wouldn’t you?’ I asked. ‘I’d do my best to help.’
‘Yes,’ Beth said. ‘Thank you, but I’m fine.’
There was nothing more I could say.
The day passed quickly with a big shop at the supermarket, unpacking it all on our return, then general housework and playing with Paula. When I took Beth’s clean laundry to her room I noticed she’d returned the grey-and-pink check dress to her wardrobe, but hadn’t chosen anything in its place. There wouldn’t be much time when we returned from school before Jessie collected Beth. I thought about choosing another dress for her and insisting she wore it, but I didn’t want to upset her, and I wondered why Derek had let the situation get so out of hand. It must take them ages to get ready to leave the house when there was no school uniform to rely on. But then, from what I’d heard of their telephone conversations, Derek shared Beth’s love of clothes and accessories. Oh well, I thought, it wouldn’t do if we were all the same.