Fathers
Page 27
This man that she still loves...?
She shivered again. Her mouth was dry, her throat parched. She reached for a glass of water on her bedside table. The water he had brought her. She sipped and placed it back. She returned to her thoughts. She had changed her mind about the whole situation now. He had given her time to think about it. Had even spoken to her about it. And she had got it right in her mind. It will all be okay because now, looking back on it, she realised she was wrong; she actually brought it on herself. It was her fault really, not his. I should apologise to him. I will make things right again. And so she took the blame and excused his behaviour. She lay there thinking about last night, about how she had upset Doug, how she shouldn’t have rejected him like she did, how she shouldn’t have got angry with him the way she did. How she somehow blamed him, blamed Doug of all people, for the way Jack reacted. For the way Jack was upset about their news. No, she was wrong to do what she did to him and perhaps, just perhaps she deserved everything she got. I mean look at what Doug has done for me, for us. He has really provided and has really helped us to survive, to live again. And what have I done. Turned nasty and hurt him. So who could blame him for lashing out like he did? Not me. And besides, he apologised this morning. Even brought me breakfast in bed! He’s told me to stay in bed for as long as I want; that he will take care of everything. After all, like he says, I’m pregnant, and mother and baby need their rest. He cares so much for us and we’ve got such a loving and caring relationship. A relationship that I’ve nearly gone and blown. Well, it won’t happen again. No, it certainly won’t. I’ll be very sure to treat Doug with the love and respect he deserves. I love him so much and he’ll make such a wonderful father to our new baby. I’m sure he will...
And with that sorted in her mind, Ellen closed her eyes and stuck her thumb in her mouth. A habit she had left behind as a child. And like an infant, she sucked on her thumb until she stopped shivering and her mind went numb. And then she fell, spiralling down, falling and falling, forever into a black hole.
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Ellen stayed in bed for almost a week. She only ventured from her bedroom once Jack had gone off to play, as she didn’t want him to see the marks that were on her body. The welts and the bruises and small cuts had just about faded enough after a week, so much so that she thought she could now rejoin them in meals, and continue with her normal household duties. Hopefully without Jack noticing and asking awkward questions about her injuries. But it was fine. He never took any notice these days. It was the school holidays and Jack seemed more interested in mucking about with his friend Wiremu than what was happening in the background at home. So she had put it all to the back of her mind and now she just wanted to move on. It was history. Over and done with. She had apologised to Doug and their relationship was never better. They both knew where they stood now and she was very careful not to upset him anymore. He had explained his feelings to her and she had to agree with everything he said. He was absolutely right. He was the man of the house now. He did have as much, if not more rights, to everything the farm provided. She was treating him unfairly and he was having a hard time of it from Jack, who for a short time had improved his behaviour, but had now relapsed into being a sullen and moody young man. He was like a stranger really and she had agreed with Doug that something really needed to be done about it. But she didn’t know what and she hoped that Jack would sort himself out and that he would come around in time, that one day he’d realise like her, how lucky they were to have someone like Doug to care for them. He’ll probably realise when he’s older, she thought, after the baby is born and grown a little, and she so looked forward to the day when they could all live as one happy family. Because she really believed, that having a baby, would only strengthen their relationship and make everything all right.
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Jack did notice that something had changed in his mother since being sick, but he put it down to her pregnancy and her ‘woman troubles’, as Doug referred to it. She seemed quieter than she did before, less confident, less in control. Sometimes she evened seemed a little nervous and he noticed that her top lip quivered quite often now, especially when talking with Doug. But he also noticed that Doug seemed alot happier now. He was always cracking jokes, was having little digs at him and his mother and was just generally being an all round good bloke. And this worried Jack. This couldn’t last. This was not the Doug he knew and loathed. No, this was a different Doug, a Doug that could almost pass for normal, not Doug Brown the murderer of men and dogs. Who dismembers the body and buries it in the bush. The Doug Brown who appears to enjoy killing. And Jack promised himself this. That if he ever found himself actually starting to like Doug’s company or even if he found his presence slightly tolerable, that he would dredge up those horrific memories from the depths of his mind and replay them over and over again, so as to remind himself that Doug Brown, the lover of his mother, the wanna - be stepfather, the arrive from nowhere and save our farm and our lives - isn’t the great person that we should get down on our knees and thank God for, but he is, in fact, the same Doug Brown, who without a conscience, would slaughter you if you said the wrong thing, and then slice you up like pork just as a farmer would without any thought, butcher a pig.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AUTUMN 1946
E
llen didn’t do it right. It was her own fault and she should’ve known better. How many times had he shown her but she still stuffed it up. She had asked him to fix it, many times before, but he said it didn’t need fixing, and he had shown her. More than once he had shown her, so she should’ve known. And now he would be angry. He had been in a foul mood all week and this would really set him off, big time. Perhaps push him over the edge. The thing is, she wasn’t sure whether she hadn’t done it properly, or if Jack had been in there for some reason and not closed it properly. Either way, she would take the blame. She didn’t want Jack to see, the other side of him. He just wouldn’t understand...
It was the door on the large outdoor meat safe. A draughty gauze lined wooden shed converted into a walk in safe, to hang carcasses until they were just right. There was a whole sheep hanging up in there, had been there for a week, and would’ve just been right for butchering. For sawing and cutting up into up into chops and roasts, but now it was ruined. The door to the safe had a dodgy latch. So after closing it, you then needed to give it a good hard hit, in exactly the right place, before it would lock properly. The door in which you had to hear a loud ‘click’, before you knew it was properly secure. Had to almost poke your tongue out and cross your legs, before it would work - was left open, just a little, but enough for the blowflies to enter. And they had really gone to work. For a week they had laid their eggs, undisturbed, and now the carcass was a writhing mass of maggots. Unsalvageable. And he would be back soon. And he would see. And he would know. And he would punish...
Doug had gone to bring in the heifers from the road and then he wanted to cut up the animal hanging in the shed. To have some of this meat for his dinner. And there was nothing she could do except take the blame. Put her hand up and say, sorry. Surely he would forgive her. Mistakes happen; everyone makes them, don’t they? But she knew, deep down that he would not forgive her. That she was really in for it. That this was going to hurt, perhaps worse than the first time. And she sat there, dreading his arrival, rocking back and forth in her chair as she hugged herself tightly, praying over and over to God - please don’t let him harm their baby. And she also prayed, that Jack would not suddenly arrive home and witness the beating, she knew she was about to receive...
Amen.
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And he didn’t disappoint. He saw her sitting there, beside herself with fear. She had broken out into a sweat, was crying and rambling some apology ove
r and over again. And she looked a right mess, her hair in disarray and tears and snot running down her face and he told her to ‘Shut the fuck up!’ As he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He had just walked in the door and wanted some peace and quiet and to eat his lunch, and then she had started in on him, with these hysterical rantings. He didn’t know what she was on about until he finally got it out of her. Had to slap her first mind you, to try and calm her down. And then she told him, well, he just lost it then. He’d run out of patience with her. And who could blame him? So he punched her twice in the face, flattening her nose and blackening an eye, and causing her to fall out of her chair and on to the floor. She tried to curl up and protect herself as she bled all over the place. She screamed and screamed as he kicked her over and over again, then she pleaded with him. ‘Not the baby. Don’t hurt the baby!’ And that infuriated him more and made him kick her harder and he intentionally aimed for her stomach for he didn’t want the bastard anyway. And then she threw up, the dirty bitch, and he almost slipped in the blood and vomit and he dragged her up by the hair and screamed into her face, ‘CLEAN THAT UP YOU DIRTY SLAG BEFORE I GET BACK!’ And then he threw her back down into the vile mess and stormed out the door. And she lay their retching and sobbing and bleeding and she could feel it coming and the pain was unbearable and she knew he had killed it. That the baby was dead, and that it was coming out of her, now, and in a rush. And she thought she would faint, but she hoped, she prayed, she would die, as the pain tore through her body, as though her innards were being ripped apart. And perhaps she passed out, because she lost all sense of time and the light in the room had changed when she came to again. And then, when she opened her eyes she realised, that the jellied bloody mess beside her on the floor, was all that was left of her son or daughter.
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When Jack arrived home from school all was back to normal except, according to Doug, his mother was sick again, and was in her room resting, and was not to be disturbed, under any circumstances! She stayed in there for almost two weeks this time and when Jack did eventually see her again, he was very worried.
She really did look, quite ill.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SUMMER 1947
A
nd the beatings continued. But not as harsh as before. The odd slap, a push, sometimes a punch or a kick but nothing undeserved. And she was getting better at it, learning what set him off, avoiding the triggers, being extra careful, cautious about saying the wrong thing. Making sure she kept him absolutely calm and happy, a devoted partner she was, caring for his every need. And she could see a day, one day, when the beatings would stop, when he would realise that there really isn’t a need to strike her anymore, that she really was doing everything he had asked of her. And she had done everything he wanted her to do. Literally bent over backwards to keep him satisfied. And Ellen could see a day when she would be pregnant again, maybe, if her body would only repair itself in time before she got too old. Because the doctors had told her that there was damage in there, that she was lucky she was brought to the hospital when she was. Because those irregular and heavy and painful periods were a sign. A sign that all was not right. That something was seriously wrong and it was just as well that her husband brought her in to see them. That he had sent Jack to fetch Mister Rasch’s car and Jack and Doug and Mister Rasch helped her, and drove her through the night to the hospital in Wakeford, where she underwent emergency surgery. Doug beside her constantly after the operation, an extremely worried look on his face. Worried that she would let out their secret. And he was there in case they discovered something inside her. Something that would point to him. That they would accuse him of. Accuse him of harming her. An accusation he could knock on the head straight away by being right there with her. He would shoot their accusing words right out of the air should they try and pin anything on him. But he needn’t have worried as nothing was said by the Doctors or indeed by Ellen herself. She really was a faithful partner that one. And he really should treat her better he thought. So he did. He didn’t beat her nearly as hard as before. Just little reminders, just to keep her in check, show her whose boss. He realised he could’ve killed her the last time and that would not do. There’s no way he wanted to spend the rest of his life in prison for something like that. Couldn’t handle that, no way. So he decided he would just watch it from now on. Be sensible. Look after his own interests and whether she deserved it or not, would not hit her as hard or as much as he would like to. And it was working out alright. Things were actually going extremely well. She was behaving herself, most of the time. Didn’t annoy him too much and that brat of hers kept out of his way most of the time too. As long as she didn’t get herself pregnant again (and the Doctors doubted that would ever happen) then everything would be just extra fine and dandy.
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Jack had seen his mother deteriorate over the past year to the point where he hardly recognised her at all. She was constantly on edge. Her hands shook when she held a cup of tea, so much so that quite often the cup would rattle on the saucer and the tea would spill over when she handed it to you. If it was Doug she was giving the tea to it would be worse, like he made her nervous, like she was a little bit scared of him. But he would just laugh at her and call her a ‘Shaky Shelia’ and sometimes whack her on the bum. Quite hard at times, but she didn’t seem to mind. Laughed along with him in fact. Not her normal hearty laugh, the one that lit up her face and made her eyes shine and made you want to join in. Not the one that hadn’t been heard in a while, but more of a titter, a nervous strained noise that sounded false and slightly disturbing. And Jack had noticed how his mother would flinch sometimes, an uncontrolled spasm in reaction to a sudden movement or noise. Especially when Doug lifted his hands quickly to his head or suddenly swatted a fly with a loud, SMACK! Of rolled up paper on a wooden table. And Doug would tease her about this too, and call her ‘Nervous Nellie’, among other things. And she would laugh that off as well with her odd, creepy titter. But she really did look ill. She was pale and had dark rings around sunken eyes. Her green eyes that used to sparkle like emeralds were now dull and drab and lifeless, like boiled cabbage. Her hair was lank and greasy and hung round her face like wet straw. She had lost weight and had started to smoke and even drink. Jack was sure she never drank before. And the funny thing was, even her nose looked out of joint, almost like, well, almost like it had been broken? Strange. And she was constantly sick all the time. Always in bed with her ‘woman troubles’, more often than not. So much so that it was hard to remember a time when she wasn’t so sick. A time when she was fit and healthy and beautiful, a woman who never got ill. And Jack wondered about this and wondered what sort of illness does this to you and he had another question for her too and he was going to ask her. Ask her when he got home. But right now he would seek the opinions of others, from those who just may know a thing or two about women and their problems. He would ask his mates Wiremu Kotare and Rex Roberts (junior) who were lying next to him and his dog Jess, getting a tan in the hot February sun, on the banks of the Putumu River. And so lifting his head up from his arms as he lay on his stomach, he squinted as the brightness seared his eyes, and asked, “Hey fellahs, what do you know about woman troubles?”
“Whatta ya need ta know?” Replied Wiremu.
“Woman twoubles? Whatta you mean woman twoubles?” Said Rex.
“Well, my mum’s been really crook lately, like for the past year, and I was wondering what could be wrong with her?”
“Yeah? Like what sort of crook?” Asked Wiremu.
“Um, sick looking, always in bed, dark rings round her eyes, funny looking nose. She shakes and just seems, I dunno, not very happy.”
“Polio,” said Rex.
“You reckon?” Said Jack.
“Doubt it,” said Wiremu. “It’ll be that she’s not eatin
g her spinach. That’ll do all those things to ya.”
Jack said, “I’m sure she eats spinach, when we have it, but she has gone off her food a bit lately. Hardly eats anything in fact.”
“That’ll be it then,” said Wiremu convinced he had the answer.
“I weckon it’s polio,” insisted Rex.
“Why, why do you think its ‘polio’, Doctor Woberts?” Sniggered Wiremu and who had said ‘polio’ in posh voice.
“Well, let me ask Jack some questions first ‘cause my sister’s had it and I know what happens to you.” He paused and looked up at the sky for inspiration, and then asked, “So Jack, does your mother get headaches?”
“Sometimes.”
“Ah huh. And does she feel sick all the time, and does she thwow up?”
“Mmm, she’s always in bed but I’m not sure she’s throwing up.”
“Okay, does she have a fever? Is she weally hot all the time?”
“No, usually she’s always complaining how cold she is.”
“Wight, okay, now were getting somewhere. Does she have a stiff neck and back, and is she always tired?”
“Well, she always seems tired. I dunno about her neck and back though.”
“Okay, okay, just about there. Does she have aches and pains all the time and does she feel weak?”
“Sometimes.”
“Vewy good. Now the big one, the clincher.” And he paused and scratched his nose and asked, “Does she have twouble going poo’s?”
“Aw yuck,” said Wiremu. ‘That’s disgusting.” And he screwed up his face.
Jack said, “Cripes Rex how would I know? Unlike you, I don’t spy on my mother on the toilet!”
Rex went bright red in the face and stammered, “I, I, wasn’t meaning that Jack I was just wondewing whether she ever bwought it up in conversation, that’s all?”