‘Yeah, he’s given me these for the daytime on top of the ones I take at night,’ she said, passing something to her mother.
‘Let’s have a look,’ said Joyce who then tried to read the words on the bottle of pills. ‘Dia… ze… pam. What are they supposed to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Shirley. ‘But I feel more knackered than ever. I’ve not got the energy I was born with, honestly Mam.’
‘Well, I don’t know what the bloody hell to make of it all. I wish to God you’d never married him in the first place. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t be told. I’d take you and the kids round to my house, but I’ve just not got the room.’
‘I know that, Mam. I’ve just got to put up with it, haven’t I? Besides, I love Tommy. I just wish he wasn’t so angry all the time.’
Joyce looked exasperated, but didn’t continue. It was a topic which she had already covered many times before, so she moved onto something else. When Adele had grown tired of hearing about what Joyce’s neighbours were up to, she returned to her bedroom. There she mulled over the conversation in her young mind.
She knew her grandmother had been referring to her father and his family. She was used to her grandma Joyce talking about them, but she had never heard her mention the word ‘mad’ before. Maybe it just meant they had bad tempers. She wondered about the word asylum. It wasn’t one she was familiar with, but she decided to check it in her dictionary.
Adele took her dictionary off the row of books on the shelf. She opened it up, and scanned the words under the letter ‘a’ until she reached asylum. She found two meanings; the first of them referred to a place of refuge, but the second related to a mental institution. She wondered which of these her grandma could have been talking about but she daren’t ask.
Adele stared at the dictionary for a few moments but when the words ‘mental institution’ seemed to leap out from the page, she quickly shut it. Those words frightened her. She knew her dad had a temper, but surely that couldn’t mean he was mental. She’d heard kids at school use the words ‘mad’ and ‘mental’ when they were trying to put down someone who was a bit stupid. They weren’t nice words and she didn’t like to think of them being linked to her family.
She was curious about the tablets her mother was taking as well; something called diazepam, her grandma had said. Adele opened her dictionary again and flicked over the pages, checking whether diazepam was listed, but she couldn’t find anything.
Her thoughts flitted back to the words ‘mad’ and ‘mental’. Adele was confused. She couldn’t understand why her grandma would use such words about her family. Grandma Joyce didn’t usually say nasty things. Grandma Joyce was nice. So if she was saying bad things about her dad, then maybe they were true. Maybe he really was mad. And, if Peter took after their dad’s side of the family, did that mean he was mad too?
Chapter 2
The school holidays had been over for several weeks. It was now autumn, and winter was fast approaching. Adele’s school teacher, Mr Parry, had been summoned to see the head teacher in relation to an incident. Full of curiosity, he tapped lightly on the office door and stepped inside when beckoned.
‘Oh hello Mr Parry, do take a seat!’ ordered the head teacher, Miss Marchant.
Hardly giving Mr Parry a chance to settle in the seat, she straightaway began to address the matter in hand in her usual authoritarian manner.
‘I have received a report from one of the dinner ladies about an incident involving two girls in your class. I thought I might get some background information from you before dealing with the matter.’
Mr Parry nodded his head and allowed Miss Marchant to continue.
‘The two girls involved were Deborah Clare and Adele Robinson.’
Mr Parry pricked his ears on hearing the name of one of his star pupils, Adele.
‘Apparently,’ continued Miss Marchant, ‘there was a fight between the two girls, but a rather one-sided affair, with Deborah Clare on the receiving end of quite a beating, from what I am told.’
‘Really?’ asked Mr Parry, shocked at this news.
‘You seem surprised, Mr Parry.’
‘Yes, I am. Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?’
‘No, no mistake. I trust the member of staff involved, and she knew both girls by name. I must admit I was surprised to hear Adele Robinson’s name when she had such a glowing report last year.’
‘Me too. But not only that, she’s very quiet in the classroom. I wouldn’t have thought her capable of giving someone a beating. I would have thought it was more likely she’d be the victim, to be honest. Are you sure the dinner lady hasn’t got things the wrong way round?’
‘No, Mr Parry, it was definitely as described.’
‘Well, I do have to say, I’m very surprised.’
‘What about the other girl, Deborah Clare? How do they get along together?’
‘Deborah’s a real trier. She’s above average, a likeable girl but a bit mischievous at times. Oh, nothing serious. She just gets a little cheeky, but once I give her a ticking off she usually tows the line. They seem to get along well together, no major problems in the past.’
‘Well thank you for your help, Mr Parry. In view of what you’ve told me, I’ll regard it as a one-off. Can you send both girls to see me after the lunch break please, and I’ll give them a stern talking-to? That should do the trick.’
‘Certainly, Miss Marchant,’ he replied, and as he left her office, he couldn’t help but feel troubled by Adele’s behaviour.
*
Adele felt sick with worry. The dinner lady had just left her and Deborah to go and see the head teacher. Adele knew that there would be repercussions from the fight. She wished that she hadn’t done what she had, but she couldn’t help herself; something in her had just snapped. As she stood in a corner of the playground, she replayed the incident in her mind.
She and Deborah were having a laugh, giving each other donkey rides. Adele’s ride was just coming to an end and Deborah had walked over to the wall with Adele on her back. The wire mesh paper bin was attached to the wall, protruding in an arc shape with the lid slanting downwards away from the wall. It formed a welcoming seat, but one that you couldn’t sit on for too long, because of the slope.
‘Put me down on the bin!’ she said to Deborah, which Deborah did.
But instead of letting go of her legs so that Adele could ease herself off the bin and down onto the ground, Deborah began to pull her legs away from the bin.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Adele, alarmed.
Deborah didn’t answer but Adele could hear her giggle as she pulled her legs further away from the bin until Adele was horizontal.
Adele gripped the wire mesh with her fingers, ‘Put me down!’ she yelled.
When Deborah wouldn’t put her down, she yelled louder. It seemed that the louder she yelled, the harder Deborah pulled.
Adele’s arms had now become fully stretched behind her, and her fingers clung perilously to the wire mesh to prevent herself falling. She felt the metal digging into her flesh, and had visions of her body slamming to the ground, with her head crashing against the concrete.
‘Let go of my legs! Put me down!’ she yelled.
But still Deborah pulled.
When Adele felt her fingers loosening their grip, panic seized her. With a strength that she seemed to muster from nowhere, she tore one of her legs away from Deborah. Her back then slumped towards the bin, dragging Deborah with her. Using her newfound strength, Adele pulled her other leg away from Deborah, releasing her hold, and her buttocks met the top of the bin. By now Adele’s panic had turned to fury and she kicked repeatedly at Deborah’s back.
‘You bitch, I hate you!’ Adele cursed.
Oblivious to Deborah’s agonised screams, Adele continued to kick as rage overtook her. It was only the sight of the dinner lady running towards her that brought her to her senses.
Now, as she thought about the incident, she felt rem
orseful. If only Debby hadn’t decided to do something so daft. If only she could have persuaded her to stop without losing her temper. But Debby hadn’t stopped. She shouted at her a few times, and she still didn’t stop. That’s what she would say in her defence. She had to pull her legs away; it was her only chance.
But did she have to kick her?
Adele was feeling desperate. Oh God, it’s no good, she thought, I’m gonna be in trouble no matter what.
She thought about what her father’s reaction would be if he found out. She dreaded that even more than she dreaded being summoned to see the head teacher.
The sound of the bell interrupted her thoughts. It was the end of the lunch period and Adele entered the school building in a state of trepidation, to the sound of taunting.
‘You’re gonna be in trouble, Adele Robinson, for what you did to Debby.’
‘Yeah,’ added another girl, ‘Miss Goody Two Shoes is gonna get done, ha ha.’
When Mr Parry announced that she and Debby were to see the head teacher straightaway, Adele felt her stomach sink.
Mr Parry led the two girls down the long corridor towards the head teacher’s office, and told them to wait outside while he knocked on the door. After he had been inside for a few minutes, he came back out, and asked Debby to go inside. He then lowered his eyes towards Adele and told her to wait there until she was called for. She noticed the look of disappointment on his face and felt ashamed. Then, with nothing further to say, he left her standing outside the head teacher’s office, trembling with fear.
After what seemed like an endless wait, Debby came out of the office, and looked away from Adele as she walked past her.
‘Next!’ shouted Miss Marchant.
Adele was already in tears by the time she entered the office and presented herself at the other side of the head teacher’s large desk.
‘Now then, what have you been up to?’ asked Miss Marchant.
‘I… I… I didn’t mean it,’ muttered Adele.
‘Didn’t mean what? And for heaven’s sake, speak up, young lady.’
‘I didn’t mean to hurt Debby,’ Adele sobbed.
‘Well, from what I’ve been told, you’ve got a bit of a temper, haven’t you, young lady?’
Adele, by now very tearful, nodded in response.
‘I can’t hear you!’ thundered Miss Marchant.
‘Yes,’ Adele replied.
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes, Miss Marchant.’
Adele was so worked up that she thought she would vomit at any minute. To her surprise, just when she reached the point where she felt she might faint, the head teacher seemed to relent.
‘Well, Miss Robinson, although I don’t condone your behaviour in the playground, I have received glowing reports from your class teacher. So, I’m going to let the matter rest on this occasion. However, I would suggest that in future you keep that temper of yours well under wraps.’
‘Yes Miss,’ answered Adele.
‘You may go.’
Adele quickly made for the door, feeling a mixture of relief and shame, but before she could get to the other side, she was stopped by Miss Marchant’s stern tones.
‘And if I ever hear of any repeat of this behaviour, you will be punished severely!’
‘Yes Miss,’ Adele replied as she dashed from the office.
Anxious to be away from the head teacher’s office as soon as possible, Adele rushed down the corridor and into her classroom.
Mr Parry raised his eyes from the papers on his desk and abruptly ordered Adele to sit down in the vacant seat next to Tony Lord, who had a reputation for being the best fighter in the school.
As Adele felt everyone’s eyes on her, a tear escaped from her eye. She was greeted by a barrage of questions from the other children sitting at the table. Adele’s feelings of guilt and shame made her shy away from their questions, even though she could tell they were impressed that she’d beaten Debby up.
‘Why are you crying if you won the fight?’ asked Tony, puzzled.
‘Don’t know,’ muttered Adele, dipping her head.
How could she explain to somebody as insensitive as Tony Lord that she was upset at hurting her friend, and ashamed by her own display of temper? Adele hated violence; she’d seen enough of it at home. It also hurt her to think that she may have gone down in Mr Parry’s estimation.
For the rest of the afternoon, Adele tried to concentrate on her classwork, but she couldn’t shake off the feelings of guilt and shame. As thoughts whirled around in her head, she tried to suppress her sobbing, but still the tears tumbled down her face.
When the bell rang at the end of the day, Adele ran out of the classroom and headed directly for home. She was glad to put the incident behind her. Little did she know that this wasn’t the only time she would be made to feel ashamed.
Chapter 3
Adele arrived home to find the house empty, as usual. Her mother, Shirley, could spend an age in the corner shop, chatting to the shopkeeper and other customers. Adele always found the front door unlocked. It was a habit of her mother’s, as well as many of their neighbours.
It wasn’t that there weren’t any burglaries in the Gorton area, but rather that they were all so poor that a potential burglar would be hard-pushed finding something worth taking. Adele’s grandmother, Joyce, had once commented that if somebody was to attempt to burgle Shirley’s home, they would probably run straight back out, screaming about the state of the place.
Adele was also used to the stench and the untidiness. It was so much a part of her life that she hadn’t even realised there was anything wrong in it until she had begun to visit her friends’ homes. She knew her grandma often complained about the state of the place, but that was just Grandma Joyce having a moan. Adele’s mother said that it was all right for Grandma Joyce who had nothing better to do than tidy up all day.
She took off her shoes and put them in the corner of the living room. Picking up her old shabby slippers, she swatted at the fly that flew off them. As she turned to make her way towards the settee, she heard the sound of the front door being opened. Then Peter walked into the living room shortly afterwards. He nodded at her in his usual way, saying nothing. For a moment they both sat in silence, until Peter spoke.
‘Are you coming out?’ he asked.
Adele didn’t see any reason not to. She would only be bored at home, and going out with Peter was always a bit of an adventure. He might be bad at times, but he was never boring. So she put her shoes back on and they made their way outside.
As they approached the top of the street, they passed their mother, Shirley, on her way home.
‘Hiya, Mam,’ they both chorused.
‘Where are you two off to?’ she asked.
They made a cursory response and continued on their way, Shirley not seeming particularly interested in what they were up to.
‘Make sure you’re home for tea,’ she shouted after them, before they were out of hearing range. Then she continued shuffling her way down the street. She was a pitiful sight in her lopsided and stained coat with buttons that strained against her ample breasts and stomach. Her hair was greasy, and her legs bare despite the chill in the air.
Adele and Peter turned the corner and saw a group of boys. Anthony Hampson, the brother of Adele’s friend, Janet, was amongst them. As they approached the boys, Adele noticed that they were carrying a football, and heading towards them.
‘We’re going for a game of footie. You coming?’ Anthony asked Peter when they had drawn closer.
‘Sure,’ said Peter, turning to join the boys as they passed by on their way to the park. Adele remained on the spot, ignored by the boys and hurt because Peter had chosen to abandon her so soon. She couldn’t understand why he was so willing to go off with Anthony when they were always falling out and getting into trouble.
Adele tried to shrug off her disappointment. ‘Is your Janet in?’ she shouted to Anthony, but he didn’t reply.
Feeli
ng deflated, she called at Janet’s house, but Janet had gone to Gorton Cross Street, shopping with her mam. Adele called for another two of her friends but when she found neither of them was in, she gave up and returned home.
The smell hit her as soon as she walked in. Her mother was cooking something in the oven. Something with meat. Cheap cuts of meat. Fatty, gristly meat. Oh no, she thought. She had lost her appetite well before the meal was served up.
*
Later, Peter sidled up to the table just in time for tea, but their father still wasn’t home. Adele knew that he would have called into the pub straight from work. An air of expectancy hung over them. Tommy might arrive home at any moment, and none of them could anticipate what mood he would be in.
Normally Adele would make the most of the time while he was out. This was usually the period when it was still relatively peaceful, before the trouble started. But tonight Peter was in a mood. He had slammed down onto his chair and was banging his cutlery noisily onto his plate as he ate his food. Something must have upset him after he had left her to go and play football. I bet it’s that Anthony, thought Adele. I knew Peter shouldn’t have gone off with him.
‘Stop making so much bloody noise, will yer?’ said Shirley.
Peter responded by banging his cutlery even louder until Shirley gave him a perfunctory slap to the side of his head.
‘Belt up or I’ll tell yer dad when he gets home,’ she said.
The meal was a struggle. Adele cut through the fatty stewing steak which was swimming in watery gravy, and covered with a layer of overcooked slimy onions. The colour of the steak was somewhere between brown and grey, and the texture was rubbery. She stabbed at it with her fork. As she raised a morsel to her mouth, it gave off a powerful, unpleasant stench that made her gag. But she knew she had to eat it. She’d get in trouble otherwise.
Adele grappled with pieces of the steak in between swallowing the bland cabbage and lumpy potatoes, which covered the rest of her plate. She willed her mother to leave the table so she could get rid of it before her father came home.
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