by Susan Lewis
I don’t know what time it is now, but it’s dark and Daddy’s not here any more. I was asleep until something woke me up, but I’m not sure what it was. It might be the telly.
‘Gary?’ I whisper.
He doesn’t answer, so I push back the blankets and get out of bed. If there are any witches under it they don’t come and get me as I tiptoe across the room and open my bedroom door. Maybe they know what the noise was and are too afraid to come out.
I take one step at a time on the landing, trying not to make the floorboards creak, then I jump out of my skin as something goes bang downstairs. Someone might be breaking in. I have to go and wake up Mum and Dad, but then I hear someone shouting and I think it’s Mum.
I go to the top of the stairs and look down at the passage. It’s too dark to see very much, but I can hear Dad shouting now. My heart’s beating hard. I don’t know what to do. I think they’re having a fight. Or maybe they’re chasing off robbers.
The living-room door swings open and I quickly hide behind the banister.
‘I’ll do what I bloody well like,’ Mum shouts, ‘so just shut your bloody mouth . . .’
‘The trouble is you can’t give them up, can you?’ Dad yells. ‘So why don’t you just admit it?’
‘I can give them up any time I like. I just don’t want to, all right.’
‘Then they’ll be the bloody death of you.’
‘Just shut up,’ she screams. ‘I’ve had enough, do you hear me? I’m sick to death of you going on all the time, and I’m sick to death of this house.’
‘Then bloody go. No-one’s stopping you,’ Dad shouts back. ‘And take those filthy things with you.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m going.’
‘The trouble with you is, you never listen. How many times have you got to be told . . .’
‘Shut up!’ she screams and there’s a loud crash. Then another crash.
‘That’s right, smash the bloody house up, why don’t you?’
‘I’ll smash you up,’ she yells.
‘Come on then! Right here!’
I can hear them fighting, punching one another and making horrible noises. I want to shout at them to stop, but then there’s another crash and Dad comes out into the kitchen. Mum comes after him. I can see their reflect ions in the mirror. They’re wrestling with each other and shouting and swearing.
Dad breaks away and starts walking down the passage. A bottle of milk comes flying after him. It smashes on the wall and the milk goes everywhere. Then another one comes and that smashes too. Next comes Gary’s tractor, then the kitchen stool. Dad yells that she ought to be locked up.
She goes on throwing things. I can’t tell what everything is, but it’s all smashing to pieces, and Mum’s shouting, calling him names and telling him she hates him. He’s shouting too and I can’t stand it. I put my hands over my ears and sob and sob. But I can still hear them.
‘No! No!’ I shout, but they just won’t stop.
‘They all think you’re a saint,’ Mum cries, ‘well they should see you now. Look at you. Just bloody look at you.’
‘Shut up, Eddress, or so help me God I’ll throw you out that bloody door.’
‘Just you try it!’
He goes towards her.
She punches him in the face, then picks something up and bangs it over his head. It’s one of my little chairs, broken in pieces now.
Dad grabs the other and I think he’s going to hit her with it, but he breaks it against the wall.
Mum snatches up the table. He ducks and it goes crashing down the passage.
I run down the stairs, screaming for them to stop, but they don’t listen. Dad’s got her hands behind her back, and is trying to push her into the room, but she flings him off and punches him again. There’s blood all over his face.
‘Dad! Dad!’ I cry.
He doesn’t hear me.
Mum runs into the dining room. The clock comes flying out and smashes behind Dad’s head. He goes in after her and picks up the telly.
‘Just you dare!’ she shouts.
‘Oh, I will.’
‘Come on then. Throw it. I’m right here. Let’s see if you’ve got the guts.’
‘No, Dad, no,’ I scream, running towards him. ‘Don’t throw it. Please don’t throw it.’
‘Don’t go near him,’ Mum shouts. ‘He’s mad. You’re mad, do you know that?’
Dad’s looking at me, but I don’t think he can see me.
‘I’m not staying in this house with you,’ Mum cries. ‘You’re not safe to be around. Come on Susan, get your coat. We’re going.’
I look up at her.
‘I said get your coat!’
I’m shaking and shivering and afraid of them both.
‘Susan, up to bed,’ Daddy says sharply.
I don’t want to be here any more, so I run back along the passage and up the stairs. When I get to the top I nearly can’t breathe. I want my gran to come and stop them. Or Uncle Bob. I put my hands together and say some prayers.
‘. . . and don’t think I’ll be back,’ I hear Mummy shout as she comes down the passage.
She goes on shouting as she takes her coat off the hook and puts on her boots. Then she ties a scarf round her hair and slams out of the front door.
I run into Gary’s room and look out the window. It’s dark, but the lampposts are on so I can see her walking down the path and out of the gate. She crosses the street and goes along the lane, splashing in the puddles as she lights a fag.
‘Susan.’
I jump.
‘Come on,’ Dad says, ‘into bed.’
‘I don’t want to. I want Mum to come back.’
‘Come on now,’ he says firmly.
‘Where’s she going?’
‘Up your gran’s I expect.’
‘Is she leaving us. I don’t want her to leave us,’ and I start to cry. ‘Go after her, Dad, please. Make her come back.’
‘Not tonight, my love.’
I put my arms round his neck and hold on tight. ‘Can I sleep with you?’ I ask.
‘All right. Where’s Gary?’
‘He’s in my bed.’
‘Let’s go and see if he’s awake.’
He’s not, he’s still fast asleep, so Dad tucks the blank ets up around him and carries me into his room.
‘I’ll go and warm you up some milk,’ he says as I slide down under the covers.
I’m still sobbing and shaking, so he gives me a cuddle.
‘Why are you and Mum so angry with each other?’ I ask.
‘Oh, we’re a couple of silly things,’ he answers. ‘We’re not really angry, we’re just . . . Well, we’re just silly.’
‘She will come back though, won’t she?’
‘Yes.’ He gives me a squeeze.
I know Dad doesn’t tell lies, so I think she might come back, but I don’t want to stay up here on my own while he goes downstairs, in case he goes too.
We walk down together, holding hands. The lights still aren’t on in the passage, but I can see the mess. All our toys are broken in bits and floating in milk, my table and chairs, puzzles, paint sets, fuzzy felts, the tractor, building blocks, a saucepan, books, my Tressie doll . . .
‘Are your feet all right?’ Dad says. ‘You didn’t cut them on the glass, did you?’
I lift up one, then the other, for him to check.
‘Well, let’s be thankful for that,’ he sighs when he sees there are no cuts. There’s still blood on his face, and a gash on his lip.
He looks around at the mess and shakes his head. ‘I think you might have to have orange squash,’ he says with one of his funny little smiles.
‘Yes, I think so,’ I say.
When I get up in the morning, just like magic, all the toys are mended and all the milk’s cleared up, but Mum’s not back.
‘Can we go and look for her?’ I ask Dad.
‘No,’ he answers. ‘She’ll come back when she’s ready and not before.’
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All day goes by and all the next night and she still doesn’t come home. Good job Dad’s off work this week, or we wouldn’t have anyone to look after us. We play cricket in the garden and help Dad make the tea. I wish he’d go and look for her, but he keeps saying no. He’s still angry with her, I can tell, so maybe it’s better for her not to come in case they have another fight. I wonder if he knows where her other family lives. I hate them, whoever they are. If it weren’t for them she’d come home, I know she would.
It’s the second day now. Dad’s out digging the garden and Gary and I are in my bedroom studying the map we’ve made of the streets leading from our house to Gran’s. I’ve told him I think that’s where Mummy is – it wouldn’t be fair to tell him about her other family or he’d get upset. I’m not even sure I should let him come and find her with me, but he’s in on it now, so I have to or he’ll just run straight to Dad the minute I’ve gone.
‘Go and make sure Dad’s still on the garden,’ I tell him.
He jumps up and goes to the window. ‘Yes, he’s still there,’ he whispers.
‘All right, then let’s go. Are you ready?’
His face looks a bit worried, but he nods and follows me out of the room.
We creep down the stairs, clutching our map. It’s warm out, so we don’t need our coats. I think we should take some crisps though, in case we get hungry, so we tiptoe into the kitchen and take two packets out of the bread bin.
It’s best to go out the front door, because Dad’s round the back, so that’s what we do. There are lots of children in the street who ask if we’re coming out to play, but we say no and walk on up to the green. Then we turn right to go along the top lane to Holly Hill where I make Gary hold my hand, because we’re on a main road now.
We walk down past the phone box then stop on the kerb to look right, then left, then right again and when it’s all clear we cross New Cheltenham Road.
We’re just starting up Pound Road, which is a very steep hill, when I realise we should have left Dad a note, or he’ll worry. I stop and look back.
‘What’s the matter?’ Gary asks.
‘Nothing,’ I say. We can’t go back in case Dad’s already come in from the garden.
We walk on, still holding hands, up past lots of redbrick houses and others made of white wood. I keep thinking that Mum might be in one of them with her other family, but I don’t know which one, so I can’t knock on the door.
By the time we get to the top of the hill we’re all puffed out. There are some shops where we could get a bottle of lemonade, but we don’t have any money.
‘I want to go home now,’ Gary says.
I do too, but we’ve got to find Mum. ‘Gran’s isn’t far now,’ I tell him.
We walk and walk, taking care when we cross roads and holding tighter to each other’s hands when a lorry roars past. I think we’re going the right way, but I’m not really sure. Our map only has the streets we know, and now we’re in a street I haven’t seen before.
‘Are we lost?’ Gary asks.
I think we are, but I mustn’t tell him that or he’ll cry. I wish Dad would come along in his car and find us now, or that we could turn a corner and see Gran’s house. I hate Mummy for running away, because if she hadn’t we wouldn’t have had to come and look for her.
‘Let’s eat our crisps,’ I say. ‘Have you got them?’
‘No. You had them.’
‘No I didn’t, you did.’
‘No I didn’t, you did.’
We go on like that until he punches me and I start to cry.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, putting an arm round me. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
I can’t stop crying though, because we’re lost and I don’t know which way to go.
‘Shall we see if we can find a policeman?’ Gary says. ‘He might know where Gran lives.’
‘No! He might arrest us for running away.’
‘Then what shall we do?’
‘I don’t know. I want to go home.’
‘So do I,’ he says and starts to cry too.
I put my arms round him, then quickly turn him away from the road as a car pulls up next to us. ‘Don’t get in,’ I tell him. ‘You mustn’t get in.’
‘All right. No, I won’t get in.’
‘Hello you two, what are you doing all the way up here?’ a voice says from inside the car.
‘Don’t answer,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t look either. He’ll go away.’
‘Susan! Are you all right, my love?’
He knows my name. I turn round. It’s Mr Williams from next door in his new car.
‘Are you all right?’ he says again. ‘What are you doing all the way up here?’
‘We’re looking for Mum,’ I tell him.
‘Oh, I see. Well, you’re a couple of chumps aren’t you, because she’s at home, and she’s very worried about you.’
‘Mummy’s at home?’ I say.
‘She was the last time I saw her, which was about ten minutes ago. Your father’s out looking for you, along with half the street. So come on, you pair of scallywags, hop in and let’s get you back.’
He’s got one of those cars with a long front seat and a gearstick on the steering wheel, so we climb in next to him and sit forward to look out the window as he drives us home.
Mum’s out by the front door when we get there, looking very worried. I’m so glad to see her that I leap out of the car and run straight over to her.
‘Oh here you are, here you are,’ she cries, catching me. ‘Where on earth have you been? You’ve had us all worried sick. And my boy. Look at you, are you all right? Come here, let me give you a kiss.’
She scoops Gary into the hug and we all hug together.
‘Where did you find them?’ she asks Mr Williams as he comes up the path.
‘They wasn’t all that far from Staple Hill school,’ he says.
‘Oh my Lord. What on earth were you doing all the way up there?’
‘We were trying to find Gran’s to see if you were there,’ I tell her. ‘We wanted you to come home.’
‘Oh you silly billies,’ she laughs. ‘You didn’t think I’d gone and left you, did you?’
‘I didn’t,’ Gary says. ‘It was Susan.’
‘It was not,’ I say, hitting him.
‘I’m hungry,’ he says. ‘Can I have something to eat now?’
‘That’s my boy,’ Mum says. ‘What do you want?’
‘Beans on toast.’
We go inside and she’s just putting the bread under the grill when Dad drives down the street. ‘Go on out and meet him,’ she tells us. ‘Let him know you’re home safe.’
Gary dashes out the back door.
Mum looks down at me. ‘What about you?’ she says.
‘You aren’t going to have a row with him, are you?’ I say.
Her eyes seem very big and brown as she looks into mine. ‘No,’ she answers.
‘Will you be nice to him now?’
She wipes her hands on her pinny and comes down to my level. ‘Always sticking up for your Dad, aren’t you?’ she says.
I nod.
She just looks at me and doesn’t say anything, until she says, ‘Sometimes grown-ups have got a lot on their minds, and they end up getting angry with each other, but it doesn’t mean they’re going to leave each other, or leave you. Now I want you to promise me that you won’t go running off like that again?’
‘All right, I promise,’ I say. ‘But you haven’t got to hit Dad again, or smash up my toys.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ she says. ‘It was wrong of me, and I won’t do it again.’
I look past her as Dad comes in the door. He’s holding out his arms so I run into them and get swung up into a great big hug. ‘I’ve been up your gran’s, your Uncle Bob’s, your Aunty Nance’s . . . I didn’t know where the dickens you were,’ he laughs.
‘Mr Williams found us,’ Gary tells him. ‘We were miles and miles away, weren’t we Susan?’r />
‘We had a map,’ I say, ‘but we’ve lost it now. We didn’t speak to any strangers though, and we always looked both ways before we crossed the road.’
‘You still shouldn’t have gone,’ he answers sternly.
‘Can we go out to play now?’ Gary says.
‘I thought you were hungry,’ Mum reminds him.
‘Oh yes. After?’
‘I suppose so.’
Dad puts me down and I go off to lay my table. We can use it now, because the glue is dry where he repaired it. I’m about to go and tell Mum that, when I decide not to. I just want to forget all about the other night now, so I sit down with Gary to wait for our beans on toast, and feel glad that we’re back home and not lost any more.
Chapter Eleven
Eddress
It’s a shame Eddie’s not here to watch this film, because it’s blooming luvverly, as Audrey Hepburn would say. She’s a beautiful woman, she is. I’ve always liked her, ever since we saw her in Roman Holiday, in London, while we was on our honeymoon. Had a luvverly time we did, going all round Trafalgar Square and Buckingham Palace. Had a bloody big row on our first night though, when we got to Paddington and I found out the silly bugger hadn’t booked us in a hotel. I’d have been on the next train back to our mam’s if he hadn’t walked off out of the station with our tickets and all the money.
‘We’ll find somewhere,’ he said, ‘don’t worry.’
The middle of bleeding November, half past nine at night, howling a gale and we’ve never been to London before in our lives, but we’ll find somewhere, he says. And where do we end up spending our first night, in a house of bloody ill repute, that’s where. I thought there was a lot of coming and going in the night, and I find out why when we get up in the morning, and some bloke offers me two and six for a quick how’s-yer-father. I nearly knocked his bloody block off, cheeky sod.
The picture house is full, no spare seats anywhere. Bob and Flo are over the other side somewhere. We didn’t realise till we got here that our seats weren’t together. Doesn’t matter though. You can’t have a chat while the film’s on, can you, and I’ll meet them outside after to get the bus home.
It isn’t half a treat coming out tonight, though right up to this morning I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to, because I haven’t been feeling at all well after my treatments this time. Bloody exhausted I am by the time they’ve finished, and I reckon the tablets they’re giving me aren’t helping much either. I’m not getting the ambulance this time. I’m all right to get the bus up Cossham, and Eddie usually manages to pick me up on his way home from work.