Although Roger likes to think he is the boss of the relationship, he is not. I have learned to be one step ahead of him on most of his decisions, and I pre-think about how to get the result I want. An example of this would be the decorating ideas. Roger blames his ex-wife’s taste for the colour scheme in his house. However, he’s proud of the living room because he chose the colours. It is the most normal colour scheme in the whole house. I have changed the dining room from tangerine orange to cream and white, and I added a few plants. The boys’ bedroom was mint green, but it is now pale blue and white. The bathroom has gone from a disgusting raspberry pink to white with peach accessories.
We are about to decorate the living room, and he insists on choosing the wall colour. I give in and tell him he can choose it if he wants. He heads to his all-time favourite shop, B&Q, with a huge grin on his face like a ten-year-old. We arrive at the store and look at the paints. He chooses carky beiges and mustardy creams, and they are disgusting. I tell him that a cottage cream or winter white is much nicer for the living room, but he insists he is choosing. Forty minutes later, he chooses the cottage cream, and we leave the shop. He is happy, and so am I.
When we meet up with friends that night (yes, at the club), he is tells all his mates that he had his way, and the colour looks lovely on the walls. Yes, he knows best. The Social Club is the only pub in the village; it is near a cluster of small shops, which consists of a post office, newsagents, and a Spar. There is another shop that is now empty; Roger tells me that it used to be a DIY store but closed a few years ago. Nobody has been able to change or buy the lease off the local council since then. I tell him it would make a great hairdresser shop. We discuss me opening another shop. I also ask our friends what they think when we go out to the club. They have lived here all their lives and tell me that they have never had a hairdresser here. It would be a goldmine and so handy for all the locals.
The next few weeks are spent ringing the local council offices, arranging to buy the lease, and designing my new shop. Roger has agreed to help, and Lorna, who has just been made redundant again, has asked if she can manage it. Her friend Mary is getting her down and always follows her to every new job she gets; this will break that cycle. I agree because I need someone whom I can trust. She is not and never will be a hairdresser, but she has agreed to attend college and complete a beauty NVQ course and a nail art evening class. This means she can earn her wage, and the shop can offer both services. Lorna tells me what wage she wants. It has to match her last job, or it will not be worth her working. It is more than I can afford because I have to employ a hairdresser as well, but she is my sister, and I need someone I can trust. I agree.
Two months later, with Roger’s help, we gut the premises and have a new hairdressing shop. He tells me that this one is both of ours due to the fact that he has helped to create it. What he means is the profits are to be shared. He hasn’t actually put his hand in his pocket and paid for any of the refurbishment. I have looked into and enrolled Lorna on her beauty courses at the local college. She will attend them in the evenings, and I have pay for them I have managed to employ a hairstylist who will work alongside Lorna, who will manage the shop. I will work one day a week in the new shop.
Two weeks later, we open the new premises. I soon discover that although everyone thought it was a brilliant idea, they do not support the new shop. In the first two months, I cut the prices to get customers through the door. The new business is being supported by the old one. I am wearing myself out by trying to take as much money as I can to cover everyone’s wages.
Every time I see my mother, she tells me how tired I look. She is the only one who notices. She also reminds me that once I break, there will be no putting me back together. She pleads with me to slow down. I know she is worried, but I cannot – I have too much riding on this. I reassure her that I am all right.
She also tells me that Roger expects too much of me and is always on the phone, screaming at me all the time about me being late.
Mam says that I am racing around to keep him happy, and she is worried that I will have an accident. She tells me that he doesn’t treat the boys right, and Frankie, who is the most placid little boy, hates him. I know she is right, but the house has just sold, and I am financially and emotionally tied to him. I push Mam’s worries to the back of my mind. I think back to the time he cheated on me and how upset I was. The person who was there for me was Mam, and she saw how hurt I was. I know she has never forgiven him for that. I know he will never hurt me like that again. People only have the ability to break your heart once. I have healed and am stronger now. I will never trust him 100 per cent.
I am also aware that I always have the boys’ backs and guard them from Roger’s mood swings. Polly is a girl, and this seems to make all the difference because she gets away with murder. Roger’s excuse for this is that she talks to him, and the boys do not. I wonder why? All he does is shout at them! I have discovered he is like this with his own children as well: his two girls adore him, but he has little time for his son. His eldest daughter has announced that she is pregnant. Roger is over the moon and comments, “Make sure it’s a girl, I prefer girls.” Surprise, surprise!
My days off are Sundays and Mondays. Roger has become more controlling since I moved in with him. The sale of the house has gone through, and I have paid off his mortgage and added my name to the deeds. We are in the process of creating an agreement and new wills, to ensure I do not lose my money if we ever split up or if one of us dies suddenly. Roger has taken out two life insurances on me, insisting that if I have an accident, he will give one of the payouts to my children. I do not believe him, so unknown to him, I have a separate one for the children. Only my parents know about this, and they are happy that I have financially secured the children’s future. So am I.
Roger tries and fails to fill up my Mondays. I have always taken my mother and Sophie out for lunch that day. Lorna is usually working or out with her partner, and because we have never been allowed in her house, we do not feel that we can call in on her at any given time. I clean the house and complete all the household chores on Sunday, after our weekly visit to B&Q and the local garden centres. My lie-ins are non-existent because Roger cannot lie in bed. His motto is, “One up, all up.”
Mam has been telling me lately that she cannot keep her food down. She has confessed whilst out for lunch that it has been going on for several months now, and she is too scared to go to the doctor. I have asked her how she has managed, and she tells me that she can suck whole-nut chocolate and has been living off that. I remind her of when Sophie had her gall bladder removed, and how the symptoms seem similar. I also mention the fact that she eats loads of butter on her toast, and the fat is the worst thing for it. I tell her to go to the doctor and get it sorted out, or else the acid will erode her teeth – and she doesn’t want to be gummy at her age. We laugh, but Mam looks worried. I make her promise to go to the doctor, and she finally agrees.
I drop her off at home, and Dad is there listening to music, Mam puts the kettle on. I ask him if he knew about her being sick, and he replies that he has been telling her to go to the doctor for months; he even made appointments for her, but she gets mad and will not go. I ring the doctor, make an appointment for the next day, and tell her to make sure she goes. I remind her that she has promised me. I sit in the car and am ashamed that I have been so busy with everything that I did not notice.
I ring Mam the next day after her appointment, and she tells me that she has to go for tests. When Sophie hears about it, she insists on going to the hospital with her; she only works part-time and can rearrange her shifts. Sophie is the eldest and likes to take charge of any situation. This pisses off me and Dad because it comes across as being nosy rather than concerned. Mam tells us it’s OK; it’s Sophie’s way of dealing with things. We shut up for her sake.
A month later, Mam is diagnosed with cancer, and we are all devastated. From the
day she found out she had what she has always called the C-word, she looks terrified. I can only describe every photo of her taken after that day (Dad snaps her on every occasion) as her looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. A week later, I visit her, and we are being really positive. I tell her she is the fittest, strongest person I know. As we talk, I notice a strong, pungent smell and ask her what it could be. She replies, “It’s me. You can smell cancer, you know.” Her hand goes up to her mouth, and she is embarrassed. I tell her it isn’t that bad; I was just wondering what it was. I feel terrible and try to reassure her, but after that, she always talks to me with her hand over her mouth. I feel like crying, but I don’t. I have to stay strong for her and help her get well. She will overcome this – she has to. How will I ever manage without her? She is so much more than just my mother. She is my friend and my rock.
A few months later, life goes on. Between work and running around to keep Roger happy, I go to visit Mam in hospital; she has had a stent put in. When I arrive, Dad tells me that it has ruptured. She has to be fed with a tube into her stomach. This breaks my heart because I know that she loves her food. The next day they move her to a larger hospital in the city. I haven’t been there before, and Roger has to take me. Work has been busy, and I stop off to pick up some things for Mam, which means I get home forty minutes late. This is late for Roger – I get timed. He is furious. I explain that I had to pick up some new nightgowns for my mother, and I wanted to get her some magazines. He is putting the greasy spaghetti bolognese dinner he made me into the bin and screaming that I just don’t give a fuck. I apologise for being late and tell him I am not hungry anyway. I am secretly relieved that I have not had to eat his “speciality”. He tells me to fuck off and adds he is not taking me to see my mother. I tell him that I don’t know the way to that hospital, and I beg him to take me; she is ill, and I really want to see her. He refuses. I tell him I will go myself, but I am reluctant to leave the boys, who have all gone upstairs. They have had McDonald’s on the way home because they also dislike Roger’s cooking.
I get in the car, and realise I don’t have a clue how to get there, and I start to cry. Eventually, I ring my mother and tell her I am so sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. She tells me that she understands that I am busy and not to worry. I promise her I will be there tomorrow.
I go back into the house and head straight to bed. I will never forgive Roger for this, and I cry myself to sleep. The next morning, he makes me coffee, but I tell him to fuck off. He grabs hold of me and tells me he is sorry; he took it too far last night. I start to cry, telling him I am really worried about her and wanted to see her last night. He apologises and promises to take me to see her tonight. I wash, get ready for work, and call the children, and we leave. Life goes on as normally as possible. I don’t want to upset the children.
Later that evening, we pull up at the hospital, and I cannot stop crying. He apologises again. I get out of the car and enter the hospital. It is an enormous building, and it takes me twenty minutes to find her. I go into the room and kiss her on the cheek.
She wakes up and looks so ill. The first thing she says is, “Are you OK, love? You look so tired.” I burst out crying. She holds my hand, and I apologise to her for not being able to get here last night. I tell her I just couldn’t make it. Roger is quiet.
I tell her how worried I have been about her and ask if she is OK. Roger makes his excuses and goes for coffee. I let her talk, and she tells me how scared she was. She says that she has been hallucinating, and she could see gypsy faces all around the bed, men and women. I tell her not to worry because it’s the medication she is on. I hold her hand and tell her I love her. She tells me she loves me too. I realise how we never say this to each other, but now I need her to hear it more than ever. I am scared. What if she doesn’t make it? Visiting time is over too soon, and we have to leave. I kiss her again and tell her I will see her soon. She is already asleep.
As we get back to the car, Roger grabs my hand and apologises again. I pull away, telling him to forget it. He says that he didn’t realise that she was so ill and that I would be so upset. I remind him that she is my mother, and I think she is going to die. He squeezes my hand again. We drive home in silence, and I vow that even if I decide to forgive him, I will never forget this.
A month later, Mam slips into a coma. When the doctors ruptured the stent in her throat, it hit the tumour and – in a way, fortunately for her – it spread upwards to her brain. If it had spread downwards, the doctor said that it would have gone into all her organs; this apparently is a more prolonged, painful death. The doctor is explaining that they are going to give her nil by mouth, and this includes water. We are allowed to sponge her mouth to give relief, but that is all. He tells us she will not be able to hear us talking to her. I look over his shoulder at her face. She is trying her hardest to say something; her lips are moving but she cannot manage to get any sound out. I know she can hear everything he is saying.
We all take it in turns to visit and chat to her. I promise her I will always look after Dad. I tell her not to worry about him because he will be OK. I know this will be her main concern, and I feel the relief wash over her face and see her physically relax. I know she heard me. I tell Sophie, Andy, Lorna, and Dad. Andy’s grieving comes out in the form of denial and anger. He cannot believe that they cannot do an operation or something to cure her. I ask the children if they want to see her and say goodbye. The boys do, but Polly is scared when she goes in; she panics and starts to cry. Roger picks her up and hugs her, and I am grateful that he is there. The boys chat to her and say goodbye. I wonder if they understand how final this is. Two weeks later, she passes away. My mother has died.
At her funeral, Dad and I stay strong. Andy is still in shock and angry that she is gone. I let the older boys attend but decide that Frankie and Polly are too young, and so I send them to school. Dad and I compare the time we haven’t seen her to feeling like when she used to go on holidays with her sister; it feels like she is going to walk through the door any minute. Mam asked to be cremated, and Dad has honoured all her wishes, making sure that we are all happy with the arrangements. Sophie chooses a song by R. Kelly called “If I Could Turn Back the Hands of Time”. My auntie remembers the songs Mam always said were her favourites, so we also choose those. Dad cannot part with her favourite jumper or coat; it is like she is still alive.
I keep my promise to my mother. I now clean Dad’s house and do his washing and ironing, as well as running two salons and caring for four children (well, five including Roger). Dad has turned into a mixture of his old self and Mam since her death. Before she died, we never really chatted to him. Now we feel that we have to go in and have a chat because he is lonely. Jonah and Eligh stay at Dad’s quite a bit; it keeps him company, and they cannot stand living with Roger.
Jonah and Dad have become close, and he reveals that Jonah’s started asking him for advice on some health concerns of his. I ask him what Jonah worried about. Dad tells me it’s nothing for me to worry about. He gives me an example of Jonah’s last concern, telling me he rang him the other day and told him that he was worried because he was really constipated. He told him that after a while of sitting on the loo in pain, his eyes bulged a bit, and then he managed to open his bowels. Although this was a great relief, he was still worried because Elvis died on the toilet. Dad says he reassured him that – although he didn’t know that – in the end, Elvis had to take drugs to get up in the mornings because he was addicted to prescription painkillers. He said that Jonah was happy with this explanation. Dad swears me to secrecy, telling me that Jonah won’t feel like he can tell Dad anything if Dad betrays his trust. I agree after laughing my head off.
Frankie also stays at Dad’s on weekends. I visit morning and night before and after work, and I take supplies for the boys. Lorna has said she will hoover and polish at Dads if I do everything else. Her reasoning for this is that the boys are there, and
she is not cleaning up after them. I cannot argue with that. If there is one donkey in a family, I am it!
Jonah has started university, and Roger is thrilled. As soon as Jonah leaves, Roger makes plans for a bigger bathroom, knocking through into Jonah’s room. He tells me Jonah has moved out now. I try to explain that he will be home at term time, but Roger won’t have it, saying that he has had enough of Jonah keeping him up all night. Roger is a light sleeper, and Jonah doesn’t give a shit. Roger goes on to say that he will have an accident on the way to work if he doesn’t get proper sleep soon, and he has had enough. Jonah is distraught and confides in Dad. Dad tells him he will always have a roof over his head as long as Dad is alive.
I am between the devil and the deep blue sea. I can see that Roger has a point when he says that Jonah keeps him awake. Over the years, I have learnt to sleep through Jonah’s racket. I tell Roger that Jonah is my son, and this is his home. Roger will not change his mind, and in order to enforce his decision, he starts to work on the bathroom straight away. I reassure Jonah that I will always be there for him, and Dad and I will always have his back. I sort out his lodgings, and we settle him in. He settles into uni life quickly, meeting new friends and having the time of his life.
My True Colours Page 12