by Sandra Smyth
“Where are you going Da?” I could see him lift her off the ground in the distance and say something to pacify her. Then he put her down and continued walking along the sand until his figure disappeared in the distance.
I prayed he’d come back soon. I felt mortified. My neighbours sensed my embarrassment. I saw them exchange glances and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Aoife came running over, “Ma, Da says he’ll be back soon. He’s going to buy us ice cream.”
She was all smiles now, God bless her. But he didn’t return in an hour. I waited and waited. The sun got lower in the sky and the children became tired and irritable. Young Frances started to cry.
By five o’clock there was still no sign of Johnny. I had no way of contacting him.
“He must have forgotten the time,” I said nervously. My friends smiled sympathetically. Joe offered to take us home and then return for his own family. We couldn’t all fit in his car.
“It’s not a big deal, Frances,” he reassured me when I objected. “Honestly I don’t mind.”
I agreed because I had no choice in the matter. I was stranded on a beach with three young children and there was nothing I could do.
I made my apologies. Jesus, I seemed to spend my whole life apologising for my husband’s behaviour and then Joe drove us home. The journey took an hour and a half and young Frances cried for most of it. Poor Joe had to turn around and drive all the way back again to collect his own family.
The children were glad to go to bed that night. Exhausted by their day on the beach they fell asleep instantly. I, on the other hand, tossed and turned. Eventually I nodded off about eleven o’clock, only to be woken an hour later by Johnny, drunk out of his mind as he staggered into the bedroom. He’d been drinking since he left us that afternoon.
There was no point in making a fuss. I said nothing and turned over in the bed, praying that he wouldn’t want sex that night. I was lucky. He was snoring loudly beside me in no time and eventually I nodded off to sleep wondering if he’d ever change.
It was moments like that that killed me. All the time I wished for a normal life. I didn’t want much—a regular marriage and a husband I could depend on. I didn’t desire a big house and lots of money. I wanted my children to grow up happy and in a safe and comfortable environment. I wanted them to have the childhood I never had.
I suppose I lived half of my life in my head, refusing to face reality. I really convinced myself that this was just a passing phase. Johnny and I had been so in love when we first met and deep down I still loved him. Every time he let me down, every time he hurt me and upset and angered me, I forgave him. I believed marriage was for life and the thought of leaving him just didn’t occur to me. Besides, where would I have gone and who would have supported us? Every now and then I begged him to give up the drink.
“Please Johnny, stop drinking,” I’d say. “If not for me, then do it for the sake of the children.”
But it was no good. He’d often cut back for a few days, maybe a week at a time, but in no time at all he’d stagger home. He was clearly hooked. Although I had yet to admit it, even to myself, Johnny was a full- blown alcoholic and he was in a state of denial.
chapter nineteen
FIONA, MY YOUNGER sister, was affected by his drinking too. She had been staying with me on and off for years. We were closer than sisters, and I’ve always had a special relationship with Fiona; she too took after my father.
One night Johnny made me go to the pub with him and we left Fiona babysitting the girls. She was 15 years of age at the time. I didn’t know but Fiona had just begun to smoke.
In our absence she climbed out the sitting room window to have a cigarette. She knew the smell would linger if she smoked in the house and she didn’t want to wake the girls upstairs by opening the front door. After the cigarette she climbed back in immediately but one of the neighbours across the road saw her getting back through the window. It was raining and she had a duffle coat on with the hood up at the time. They thought she was a burglar and called the guards.
I’ll never forget arriving home to a guard car sitting in the driveway. Inside the guards were interrogating my poor sister. They checked the whole house and found nobody there of course, but Fiona was too terrified to tell the truth. She knew that Johnny would beat her up if he knew she’d been smoking so she pretended she hadn’t climbed out the window at all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she kept on repeating to the baffled guard.
“Just tell the truth Fiona,” Johnny piped up pretending to be a caring brother-in-law.
“It’s alright,” I nodded reassuringly. “We won’t be angry if you tell us the truth love.”
She broke down and told them what had happened. When the guards left, Johnny turned on her. The poor girl was terrified. He screamed at her for two hours solid. He didn’t hit her mind you but his tongue was worse than his fist. He could kill you with it; leave you a grovelling mess with no will to live.
Fiona never liked to see Johnny in a bad mood with me, it upset her.
“Why do you take it from him, Frances?” she used to say after he’d verbally abused me, tore me to shreds with his tongue. Fiona was a teenager at that stage and she was full of all the spirit that comes with youth.
“Sure what can I do Fiona?” I’d say to her and there would be despair in my voice. I was increasingly despairing back then. I felt trapped and helpless.
I had no friends to confide in and even Helen and myself had drifted apart. Johnny had become increasingly paranoid about me talking to other people. If I left the house for any length of time he’d time me and there’d be hell to pay if I didn’t make it back within the allotted time. I rarely went to the shops because he didn’t like it. I’d ask one of the girls or Fiona to run around to the local newsagents whenever we ran out of bread or milk.
I remember one afternoon when Helen called around unexpectedly. I was doing the dishes in the kitchen and he was lazing around the sitting room watching the football on television. Aoife ran into the kitchen.
“Ma, aunty Helen is coming up the road to see you,” she tugged at my apron and looked up at me. I panicked. I knew Johnny was in a contrary mood and there’d be trouble if I brought Helen into the house, besides he’d already started drinking for the day and I knew he’d cause a scene, I’d be mortified in front of Helen who didn’t know the full extent of the situation.
I thought quickly.
“Tell her not to come in,” I said to Aoife, as I pulled off the rubber gloves I’d been wearing to wash the dishes. I tugged off my apron and threw it on a chair. Then I checked my appearance in the mirror we had hanging over the kitchen counter. I looked worn out and sad but there was no time to put on any make-up. I ran to the front door and looked out. I could see her coming up the road with a plastic bag in her hand.
“What are you doing?” he’d heard me opening the front door.
“Oh nothing, I’m just checking on the kids,” I shouted back nervously, hoping he wouldn’t come out to the hall.
Helen got as far as the front gate, which was locked. I ran out to see her and stood at the gate.
“Ahh, Helen,” I said, trying to act relaxed. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She smiled.
“You never call around anymore Frances,” she said and I could see she wasn’t pleased. “You shouldn’t be a stranger.”
I paused for a second. How was I going to get out of this one? I knew Helen would smell a rat.
“Can I come in?” she said, automatically opening the gate.
“Look I’ve brought us some nice biscuits. Come on, make me a cup of tea and I’ll tell you all the gossip. Did you hear Matilda Walsh is pregnant?”
Matilda was one of our neighbours growing up. I’d have loved to hear about her pregnancy and all the gossip. I hadn’t seen Helen for months and I was dying to sit down and have a chat with my sister, but I couldn’t. I knew he’d kill
me if I brought her in.
“I’m really sorry Helen, but you can’t come in,” I said looking at her apologetically. My poor sister, she thought I was being cold and unfriendly towards her.
“What do you mean I can’t come in?” she was understandably shocked but I didn’t care what she thought. All I thought of was keeping Johnny happy, making sure there was peace. If I had to offend my sister, then so be it. I knew I could make it up to her again.
“No Helen, thanks for coming over but you can’t come in today. Johnny’s doing a few things around the house, fixing a table in the sitting room at the moment, he’s very handy these days.”
I pretended to laugh. I amazed myself sometimes; I’d become such a good liar.
Helen was taken aback.
“Well okay, Frances, if it’s not a good time I understand,” she said but I could tell by the tone of her voice that she didn’t understand. She understood nothing because I hadn’t told her about Johnny. I wanted to tell her but I couldn’t. If I told Helen it would weaken my position even more. What’s more I was ashamed to admit the truth to my sister.
She stared at me for few moments, searching my face with her eyes for the truth. She knew me well and this was out of character. Eventually she said goodbye.
“Are you alright Frances?” she asked before leaving.
“Ahh sure I’m grand Helen. Bad timing. That’s all,” I held her eye for a second and I wondered afterwards if she knew something was up. She handed me the bag with the biscuits before she left.
“You might as well have them,” her voice was sad and hurt.
I turned and walked into the house feeling lonelier than ever.
“Who was that?” my husband shouted from the sitting room over the noise of the football.
“Nobody Johnny,” I shouted back, trying to make my voice sound upbeat. “Just a young fella, selling scratch cards.”
I think Helen took it personally that day because we lost contact for a long time after that.
Johnny’s paranoia was hard for the children too. He didn’t want them to have friends. He wouldn’t allow them go further than the garden gate to play during the day. They had to stay in the back garden, the front garden or else inside. I’d let them out for a little while when he was gone to work but if I thought he was on his way home I’d be out like a shot and chasing them back in again.
“Quick, your Da is on his way home,” I’d warn them. They were good children and they’d come running back into the house but they didn’t understand.
“Why can’t we play with the other kids, Ma?” Molly asked me one day. I didn’t know what to tell her. I had no answers.
Aoife and Molly became close because they weren’t allowed to play with the other children. I don’t know what the neighbours believed. They must have thought we had notions of ourselves. The irony is that outside the house, Johnny appeared to be the perfect father. He got up early and drove them to school everyday. He’d collect them in the afternoon and drive them home again. All the teachers thought he was great. They’d smile when they saw him coming.
The girls had all the best clothes too. He’d buy everything on credit cards so they wanted for nothing. They were the best-dressed children on the road but they had no friends.
On another occasion Johnny announced he was taking us to Butlins. We’d been married for nearly ten years by then but we’d never once been on a holiday. The children were ecstatic when they heard. They talked about it non-stop for days on end. You’d think we were going to Disneyland.
Johnny had been on the dry for a few days before we left and I was ever hopeful. We packed our bags up for a week at Butlins and bundled into the car. Everything ran smoothly for the first two days. Johnny didn’t touch a drop of alcohol and it was like being with a different person. He was kind, caring, and considerate and the children were in heaven. They played on the amusements and went swimming in the pool. I’d sit and watch them during the day and look at all the other happy families, couples who cared about each other, who were respectful and openly loving. How I wished I had that kind of relationship with my husband. It made me melancholy to think about it.
We were there two days when things started to go badly wrong. The children were exhausted and hungry on the second evening and we took them back to the chalet where we were staying to get them changed before dinner.
I was struggling to get young Frances into a dress when Johnny announced he was going to buy chips.
“Could you not wait for your dinner?” I looked up at him from the bed where I was sitting dressing Frances; she was irritable and crying now.
“I want ice cream, Ma,” she kept whinging. I think it was beginning to annoy him. I begged her to stop but she wouldn’t.
“I won’t be long,” Johnny shook his head. “I’m starving, sure I’ll be back in half an hour.”
I let him go. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter and anyway I wanted to keep him in a good mood. Johnny could be lovely when things were going right and he wasn’t drinking.
“Okay then, I’ll wait here with the kids for you,” I said as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t come back. I waited and waited and after two hours there was no sign of him. The children were hungry and so was I. What’s more they were bored, they wanted to get out of the tiny chalet and play. I had painted my nails and changed into a dress while he was gone, now I sat there on the edge of the bed, counting the minutes.
“This is ridiculous,” I thought. “Where in God’s name could he be?” Suddenly I’d had enough. “You stay here and look after your sisters,” I said to Aoife.
“Lock the door behind me and don’t let anyone in unless it’s your Da,” I cautioned her. I stormed out of the chalet. I hated leaving the children on their own but I had no choice. I had to find that man and give him a piece of my mind.
It wasn’t difficult. All my fears were confirmed as I entered the bar. Not only was he drinking however, he was sitting there chatting up two young blondes. I was furious. He’d left his wife and three hungry children for two and half hours while he sat drinking with two young ones wearing mini skirts. He turned to look at me as I came in.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” he said. The girls giggled mischievously and I felt mortified. I was ashamed to have this man as my husband. I stood there for a moment, feeling confused. I was torn between letting loose and telling him exactly how I felt or saying nothing in front of the women. They were about the same age as me but I felt dowdy, unattractive and very ashamed beside them.
I stared at him for a moment, searching for words that wouldn’t come. Then I turned on my heel and left. I marched back to the chalet and began packing our clothes. The kids were relieved that I’d returned.
“Are we going to dinner now, Ma?” said Aoife. The poor things were starving, they hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.
“No darlin’, we’re going home,” I announced. I wasn’t sure how we were going to get home at that hour of night but I knew that there was no way I could stay there. The one thing I had never thought Johnny capable of was being unfaithful. In all the time I’d known him he had never so much as looked at another woman in my company. He actually used to give out about other men who would cheat on their wives. Every now and then he’d go on a sanctimonious rant when he he’d had a few drinks to loosen his tongue but still not enough to fall over. Now I’d caught him red-handed chatting up two dolly birds at the bar. I was shocked and disgusted, on top of everything else he’d put me through this was too much.
Suddenly there was a bang at the door, then he barged into the room. There was guilt written all over his face and I could smell the drink.
“What are you doing Frances?” he demanded to know as I packed up our belongings. “We’re going home, Da,” piped up Aoife. “Ma says we have to go but I want to stay Da, can we stay Da, please?”
He turned to me.
“I was only talking to them Frances, can I not have a quiet drink and
make a bit of small talk for God’s sake? Why do you always have to go and overreact?”
There he was as usual, turning things around, making them my fault and not his, and implying that I was the one with the problem. He was so good at it too. He never failed to make me question myself.
“We’re going home, Johnny,” I stood my ground. He looked at me for a moment and then his expression changed. He was angry now and not repentant anymore.
“Right so,” he motioned to the kids. “Come on, into the car.”
We drove in silence for two and half hours. The children fell asleep quickly, even Aoife was exhausted and they could sense their father was in a bad mood. It was 10 o’clock at night by the time we reached the house and I was glad to get home. Once more I felt despairing and foolish.
“I should have known better than to agree to a holiday in the first place,” I thought.
He was furious. We were only home half an hour before he turned and began abusing me.
“Paranoid,” he called me. “Paranoid and possessive.”
I didn’t trust him, he said. “And what was a relationship without trust?”
Looking back I have to laugh. If I don’t I’ll cry. Somehow he made me believe that he was right. He opened a can of beer as he shouted at me and I went to bed with a black eye and bruises all over my chest that night.
chapter twenty
IT SOUNDS STRANGE to someone who has never experienced it, but I got used to being a battered wife. As the years went on, Johnny drank more and the violence increased. I can honestly say that I lost my confidence entirely during that period, but it was a gradual loss. Life was one long roller coaster ride and in a perverse way I was hooked. I hated that ride with a passion but I’d bought the ticket and I couldn’t get off.
There would be days, even weeks sometimes, when Johnny was in great form. He’d be kind and loving and all that a husband should be. But as the years progressed those times became fewer and fewer, and after a while they ceased to happen at all.