My True Colours

by Hannah Francis

  I look around the room and see a film playing on a projector screen. A gay man is talking dirty to someone (I am not sure if it is a man or a woman) who is in a dentist’s chair. It is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. Sara is loving it, but I am exhausted and think, Beam me up, Scotty! I tell her I have to go because I feel dizzy. I know she is pissed off, but I cannot stand it here any longer.

  On the way back, we start chatting to some younger lads. They ask us who we are here with, and Sara tells them that we have come with another two adults and my four children. Within seconds I am walking alone, and Sara is still happily chatting away to them. They leave, we bump into another crowd, and it happens again. I don’t want to get off with anyone, but they make me feel like a leper! My life is worlds apart from these people, and I can’t wait to get back to my kids.

  We arrive back at the resort at 5.30 a.m. I manage to have a lie in until 9.00, and then I take the children to the beach. The next day is overcast, so I suggest taking Frankie and Eligh to the water park on the other side of the island. Lorna offers to mind the younger two. We catch the local bus, and I pack some biscuits and drinks. We have the best day going on the slides with no moody adults. When we arrive back, Lorna is moaning that we are late. I ask if the little ones have been good, and she tells me that they have been taking photos of them and admits that they have been no trouble. I shower them and head down to their favourite location. Lorna, Mary, and Sara inform me that they are going off for food together alone because they need a break!

  We have two days left of the holiday. The boys are running out of clean underwear, so I decide to just put them in shorts. The children and I head to the bouncy castle bar. Jonah and Eligh have gone into the park area; a lady minds the children, and it is fenced off. They charge two euros per child, but they can go back and forth all night and are safe. I tell them that I am inside with Frankie and Polly. Polly is asleep in the buggy. Eligh has been complaining of a bad stomach, and I have given him an extra dose of his medicine. He takes Senercot and Lacterlose because he has suffered with constipation since he was three years of age. I get the children some pop and order myself a drink because we have eaten in the room.

  A crowd has come from outside and taken a table opposite us. I haven’t seen them in here before, so I’m guessing that they have just arrived. I relax and take a sip of my drink. As I look up, I see Eligh running towards me holding his bum. He is bouncing up and down and asking me where the toilets are. I direct him to the other side of the entertainment room. It’s about thirty metres away, and I tell him to run; I cannot go with him and leave the little ones. He runs across the room, and as he does, he keeps looking back in horror. As I look more carefully, I see small cow pats appearing on the floor. He stops and panics, and I shout, “Run!” He disappears into the toilet.

  Eventually, Lorna and the others arrive back. I tell her to watch the little ones before rushing off. An argument is erupting at the next table, and I can hear them saying, “It isn’t me!” That’s all I need! I pick up several table mats and try to scoop the pats into the nearest bin, using baby wipes to clean the floor. Then I go in to sort out Eligh. He isn’t in the ladies, so I call his name and hear a little voice coming out of the gents. I tell him to come out here so that I can clean him up, and he is so embarrassed. I take him into the toilet and do the best job I can. As I am washing his hands, I look up and see the lady from the other table. She has a brand-new white trainer in her hand, and she is trying to wash off Eligh’s poo! I look at her and say sorry. I take Eligh back to the room and then shower and change him before heading back to bar. As I enter, the table of people are all staring at me. I say, “Sorry about that.” They erupt, laughing hysterically.

  Eventually it is time to head back home. We arrive at the airport at about one thirty in the morning. The children are shattered. I can hear Lorna, Mary, and Sara arguing about who is sitting with the kids on the way home. None of them want to. I tell them if I could physically sit with them all, I would, but I can’t, so they need to grow up. Lorna’s attitude hurts the most because she is my sister, their aunty.

  When we get home, my mother is at my house with a cup of tea, waiting for me. She has gone to the shops and got supplies for breakfast. The children go to bed to sleep, and she asks me how it went. I start to cry. I tell her I will never go on holidays with Lorna or anyone else again.

  I go out with Sara the following week, and one my drinking partners tells me that Sara has been telling everyone that my kids are little bastards! I tell Sara she can call me what she likes, but she can’t call my kids names. Sara denies saying it, and the friendship is over.

  Mam has a word with Lorna and tells her how much she has upset me. I get a gift off her, when all I really wanted is for her to say sorry. A month later, Sophie gives birth to a daughter. She is beautiful, and she calls her Liona.

  The children start back to school. I have finished my college course and have been applying for part-time work. My mother tells me that she would prefer to mind the children for me, and as long as it is only part-time hours, she can do it around her job. Two weeks later, I get a job in a local hair salon as a stylist. I apply for tax credits, and after working out my money, I am only five pounds a week better off – but I am earning it myself and am independent. Goal number three has been achieved. I book driving lessons, and it takes me over a year, but on my third test I pass. I am so chuffed.

  I visit Gemma and tell her my news. she replies, “Well, if you can do it, so can I!” She books a lesson. I cannot afford a car yet; that is my next goal.

  Finding Mr Right has had to take a backseat. I have been far too busy to date, but as Christmas approaches, I feel lonely. My house is always busy with the children, and my family and friends are great, but the worst time to be single is Christmas. Gemma decides to help out and sets me up with one of her partner’s friends on a night out. We arrange to meet up as a foursome. Gemma and I pre-drink and are drunk before we enter the pub. He is a nice guy, the drinking goggles are on, and I fancy him. The rest of the night is a blur.

  The next morning I wake up, and my head and groin are both aching. I suddenly remember my date came home with me. As I turn around, I see a mop of ginger hair on the pillow next to me. No way! I have shagged a glow-in-the-dark! I am going to kill Gemma. I make sure he leaves before the children rise.

  The next few weeks are filled with getting the house ready for the festive season.

  I spend my days doing housework and seeing to all the children’s needs. After school I feed them, bathe them, and put them to bed. Going downstairs should be my time to relax, but this is when the chores such as mowing the lawn, painting the house, and all the DIY jobs are done. The living room needs a coat of paint. I start with the ceilings, and it is a double room with an archway in the middle. I have chosen a light coffee colour for the walls. I cut in the edges and use a paint pad to give the walls three coats of paint. I am listening to the radio and singing to all the old songs. It’s times like this that I am glad my neighbour is an alcoholic and is probably too drunk to hear me. I finish the walls, and in between waiting for the coats to dry, I gloss the radiators. The skirting boards are stained, and I finish painting, clean up, and wash out the brushes. I then shower and get into bed at around six thirty.

  Jonah shakes me awake at eight thirty, asking me to find his PE kit. I am so tired that I feel like I have been superglued to the mattress. I am aching all over and have used muscles I never thought I had.

  My mother arrives at 8.45. This is routine, and she gives me a hand to get them to school. She gives me a row and tells me if I had waited, she would have given me a hand. I peg out the curtains; I have washed them and will put them back up tonight. I look around the room and am proud of my achievement. We drop the children at school, and I head to Mam’s for a cuppa and a chat. She tells me that I do not need a man in my life because I am doing fine on my own. I have bags under my eyes and
am shattered. She has always had my dad and does not understand. The only people who tell me this are the ones who are attached.

  Christmas is days away. The boys have asked for Power Rangers, and I have already bought them and stored them at Mam’s. The news is reporting that they are the top present this year, and stocks are running out, so I am glad I got them early. I got Polly a pram and doll, and Frankie wants a Ghostbuster car and men. This is all he has asked for. The boys have also asked for a BMX bike each. I have been paying weekly for them and will pick them up Christmas Eve. Dad has offered to pick them up and store them at his house; he will drop them down for me in the evening, when the boys are asleep. I love to surprise them, and Christmas Day is going to be great!

  Work is going well. The shop has several part-time staff and a full-time stylist. The full-timer is younger than me and very bitchy. The manager of the salon often sides with the full-timer for a quiet life, and this creates friction and bad customer service. I go out on a Saturday night every week. I have friends whom I meet through work and from the school.

  Dad is dropping me off one week, and he drives past an empty shop near the town. It is a closed clothes shop, but I remember that a few years ago, it was a hair salon. I wonder, Could I do that? I have an idea.

  I wait until Monday morning, and after dropping the children at school, I visit the college’s hairdressing department and ask if my old tutor is available. The receptionist tells me to take a seat because she will be back from lunch in ten minutes. When she enters the salon, she is pleased to see me and asks how I am getting on. I fill her in on my new job and ask her if she can give me some advice. I tell her I have seen an empty shop and was thinking of opening my own salon. I ask her what she thinks. She looks shocked because she knows I have four children, and she asks how I will cope. I tell her I am simply considering it at the moment. She tells me that when she opened her own salon, she bought second-hand equipment, and her children were of school age. She also said that it can be achieved with enough hard work and determination. I ask her how would I go about getting in touch with the owner of the property, and she advised me to go to an estate agent in town.

  I thank her and ask her to keep it to herself. She wishes me luck and asks me to keep her updated. I walk to town and ask in every estate agent office. The last one tells me that the lady in the fruit and vegetable shop next door is friendly with the owner. I thank her and leave. I get the number and ring up the owner of the property. She is very friendly and tells me that she is waiting to hear from a beautician within the next three days; she has to give her first refusal. I decide to wait four days. I have drawn a sketch of the shop inside and planned the interior. I have given the shop a name: Lauren’s Hair Studio. I have also designed the window sign. Three days pass, and I cannot wait any longer. I ring the landlady back.

  She tells me to ring back this afternoon. If she hasn’t heard from the beautician, I can view the property.

  I am a bag of nerves because I want this so badly that it hurts. I ring back at two o’clock. She tells me the beautician hasn’t come back to her, so we arrange a time to view the property. She also adds that she told her husband she was hoping that the beautician wouldn’t, because she could tell I was so desperate to get the property. If she had to deliver bad news, she was afraid I might hang myself! I tell her I really want to do this. I have never been more determined in my whole life!

  I ask Dad to come with me and not to tell Mam just yet. I explain that I am thinking of opening my own salon. He tells me that he has never lied to her before, but he agrees to come along. As I look around, the landlady tells me the cost of the rent, water rates, and business rates on the building. I look around: it needs a lick of paint and some DIY on the place, but other than that, it is perfect. She agrees to give me six weeks’ free rent to allow me time to redecorate and open for business. She also tells me she knows of a place that sells second-hand hairdressing equipment, and she will take me there and get me a good deal. She was a hairdresser and gave up the business to go to university and study law. She gives me advice, telling me to keep my prices low to get the customers through the door. She tells me if they like me, they will come back. I reassure dad and agree to take the place.

  I get home and phone the job centre for advice; they put me in touch with the WDA, who tell me about the Prince’s Trust. I have to be under thirty and on a low income to apply for a loan or grant of up to five thousand pounds. The interest rate will be 4 per cent, which is low, and I will be able to pay it back at an affordable rate. I ring up the WDA and am booked onto a course for the following week. I have to complete a business plan to apply to the Prince’s Trust. I go to my parents the next day and tell them my plans. My dad offers to take me to the meetings; they run when the children are in school, so I do not need a babysitter.

  My mother goes mad, telling me that I have enough to do with four children, and that I look tired all the time as it is. Dad tells her to let me have a go. “Look, if she tries and fails, then at least can say she tried. Otherwise, she will always wonder whether she could have succeeded.” I am shocked at Dad’s speech.

  Mam replies that if I do it, I can manage the kids on my own because she is not helping. She adds that I have a part-time job, and that is enough.

  I remind her that my boss has been dropping my days for the last month, and I cannot afford to lose thirty pounds a week. Mam asks how I am going to pick up the children from school. I tell her about the Prince’s Trust and how, if I qualify, it means I will be able to buy a small car. I have to complete the forms straight away; the WDA have told me that the date of application will be logged. The funding will not be available until the following April, which is after my birthday, but they will honour it because I applied early.

  Mam tells me if I don’t slow down, I will break, and there will be no putting me back together. She adds that I already do too much, and she is worried about me. I tell her that I will be able to pick the children up from school and take them to the shop; there is a large staffroom. I can take the old television from my bedroom and their beanbags, and they can watch some videos until I finish work. Mam replies, “Do what you like. You always do, anyway.” I am determined to prove to her I can do this.

  Within a month, I have decorated the shop, and it is ready to open. Lorna and Mary offer to help paint in the evenings. Mam reluctantly offers to watch the children. I have to buy them an Indian takeaway meal for their efforts. Sophie has lent me five hundred pounds out of her savings, and I have promised to pay her back as soon as the Prince’s Trust loan arrives. I have completed the business plan and have been awarded a loan of four thousand pounds. Repayments are 150 pounds a month. Sophie’s loan has bought me second-hand washbasins and chairs, a till, some decorations for the interior, and the mirrors. The work stands were supplied by Lorna and Mary; the factory they work at had cut-offs of worktop and allowed them to shape them into shelves for me. I have painted and stencilled the shop, and I had the name of the salon painted on the windows.

  My boss was not happy when I told her my plans. I offered to work two weeks’ notice, and she told me to leave the same day. She owed me two weeks’ pay and was reluctant to pay me back. I had budgeted that money to buy the showers for the basins. I rang ACAS, and she paid me but was furious. I do not care; I did the right thing by her, and it was the least she could do.

  I open for business within one month of signing the lease.

  This was essential because I have to earn my rent, and I only have two weeks to do this. I have managed to get all my stock on a thirty-day payment agreement. For the first time in my life, I have qualified for a bank account, and I open a current and business account at Lloyds Bank. I ring the Inland Revenue, and a small business advisor is allocated to me for a year of free financial and tax advice. He arrives and informs me that I have to pay a class two tax for my stamp, pay tax for any employees, complete an end-of-year tax return every ye
ar, and pay tax on my stock. I wonder whether there will be any money left after all that!

  Within two weeks, I have managed to make enough money to pay my first month’s rent. Two weeks later, my loan comes through. and I repay Sophie and thank her. I also do all my family’s hair for free because they have been such a big help to me over the years. With the remainder of the loan, I am able to purchase a small car; I passed my test over a year ago. I have taken on a member of staff, and the DHSS have a scheme going at the moment and will pay her wages and fund uniforms and travelling expenses. She is full-time and stays in the shop while I pick up the children from school in the afternoons.

  Mam is still annoyed at me, but her workmates and friends are praising my efforts. I think that secretly, she is quite proud. There are a lot of people, including my ex-husband and his family, who are wishing me to fail. This only makes me more determined to succeed. My business advisor tells me that I will make a loss in the first year due to opening costs, and only 3 per cent of small businesses survive over ten years. Beating the odds becomes my new goal.