Mummy, Make It Stop

by Fox, Louise

  ‘Hello,’ smiled Nan. She looked kind, and I did my best to smile back, but I felt it came out looking all wrong.

  ‘Right,’ Mum said, grabbing the kettle. ‘I’ll make some tea - you all go and sit down.’ I looked at her in surprise. She never made us tea.

  We all trooped into the lounge and sat around the drop-leaf table. Jamie, Tanya and I sat in silence, as Dad and his mum tried to make polite conversation, asking us about school. Mum brought us all tea, and we sipped it nervously.

  After a few minutes, I decided to speak. There was something on my mind.

  ‘What do we call you?’ I said to him, blushing.

  ‘Call me whatever you want,’ Dad replied, smiling at me. The trouble was I wasn’t sure what I wanted to call him. ‘Dad’ seemed odd, because I didn’t even know him. But what else was there?

  Mum kept busy, offering biscuits and topping up drinks, as we all looked at one another.

  Gradually, we began to thaw out, but it was hard going. Tanya, Jamie and I all found excuses to leave the table and go upstairs or out to the kitchen for a few minutes at a time, just to escape the tension.

  After an hour, Dad and Nan got up to leave. He delved into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he laid on the table.

  ‘There’s fifteen pounds in there for each of you,’ he smiled. ‘Get yourselves something nice with it.’

  My eyes lit up thinking about what I could spend my money on. New clothes, some make-up, jewellery, sweets; I could probably get all of them with that much.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, smiling at Dad. Jamie and Tanya thanked him too.

  ‘I’ll be back again next week, if that’s OK with all of you,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, great,’ Mum said. We all nodded.

  Mum shut the door behind him and turned to us.

  ‘If you think you’re getting this money, you got another think coming,’ she said, grabbing the envelope from the table. ‘This’ll do me for bringing you lot up, without a single penny from him.’ And she ripped open the envelope and stuffed the money into her pocket.

  We stared at her. How could she be so unfair? Our dad had given us that money. I wanted to run after him and tell him that Mum had taken it. But I knew she’d make me suffer if I did. So I stomped upstairs, feeling gutted and knowing she would spend it on more supplies of Mad Dog cider and cannabis.

  Later that day, I said to Mum, ‘You told us he had three eyes. But he didn’t.’

  She roared with laughter. ‘You didn’t believe that, did you?’ she said. ‘I was only joking.’

  I thought about Dad a lot in the week that followed. The meeting had been awkward and tense, but he’d tried hard. I decided we should give him a chance.

  The following weekend, he came over again. This time he came alone, and he brought sweets for us. I was glad - Mum wasn’t likely to take them away. None of us mentioned that she’d taken the money when Dad teased us about how we’d probably spent it all on sweets and chocolate.

  Mum left us in the kitchen with him, so we were all a bit more at ease. Dad told us about his partner, Sandra, and said he would like us to meet her once he’d got to know us a bit better. He explained that he had to come over to our house, as he didn’t have a car and the bus we would have to take to get to his place went on a long roundabout route and took forever. But he said that he’d decided it was time he learned to drive, and he’d already started lessons.

  He was nice, and I thought he must like us if he was bothering to learn to drive so that he could take us to his house. I couldn’t see why Mum had hated him so much. I wondered whether he had really done all the bad things she accused him of. But whatever he had or hadn’t done, I was just happy to have a dad and to feel that, at last, I was like other kids. I decided that I would call him ‘Dad’. It had begun to feel right.

  For the next few weeks, Dad came over to see us every Sunday. Mum would behave nicely in front of him, making the tea and then leaving us to chat to him, and as we got to know each other, we all became more relaxed.

  About six weeks after Dad started coming over, Tanya turned sixteen. She wanted a party, and Mum agreed. Tanya wanted Dad to come, and to our surprise Mum said yes.

  On the day, we all dressed up and Tanya’s friends came over, along with our aunties and a few of Mum’s gang. Dad turned up with Nan and his sister, Auntie Allie, with loads of presents for Tanya.

  Dad seemed to get on well with everyone, and I felt proud. I kept thinking, ‘I’ve got a dad, and he’s nice.’ It felt so special.

  Dad passed his driving test soon afterwards and bought a car. The next weekend he came to collect us and take us out for a drive. Jamie was off with a friend, so Dad took me and Tanya. And, to my surprise, he headed for the area where Cherry Road was.

  ‘Why are you bringing us here?’ I asked.

  ‘I love this area,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I often come here. It’s so pretty, and there’s a lovely market in the village. Do you know it?’

  We told him that it was where we had been in a children’s home, and he looked sad. ‘I’m sorry, girls, I knew you’d been in care, because social services told me, but I didn’t know it was here. Do you want to go home?’

  ‘No,’ we told him. ‘It’s fine.’ And it was. I liked seeing the area again and so did Tanya. I couldn’t help wondering if Dad had been there when we were at Cherry Road. Perhaps we’d even passed him in the street.

  After that, Dad came every weekend to take us out, and we drove all over the place, exploring different areas. Then came the day when he said, ‘Would you like to come to my house?’

  ‘Yes please,’ we squealed. I couldn’t wait to see where he lived. His house was a three-bedroom semi, like ours, but his was in a nicer area and it looked smarter. Standing in the doorway, smiling, was a very plump woman with a warm face and a big smile.

  ‘Well, it’s good to meet you,’ she said, giving all of us a hug. ‘I’m Sandra. I can’t tell you what it means to your dad to be seeing you again.’

  I was puzzled. What did she mean? If it was so important to him, then why had he stopped seeing us? I wanted to ask, but still felt too unsure of myself - and him - to risk it.

  We had a lovely time that day. Sandra was kind and motherly and made us a big meal. She had three grown-up children of her own. She and Dad had met soon after he split from Mum, so they’d been together for over twelve years. Dad worked in a bakery and Sandra worked in a café, cooking and waiting at tables. They seemed to be really fond of one another and happy together.

  After that, Dad took us over to his house every weekend and I loved it. Jamie and Tanya didn’t always come. They would be off with their friends, and Tanya had a boyfriend called Kevin and spent all her time with him. So it was often just me. I was so starved of affection that I lapped up the cuddles and hugs Sandra gave me, and when Dad asked me if I’d like to stay the night one weekend, I happily agreed.

  I slept in a large spare bedroom which was light and spacious. It was never normally used, so it only had a bed in it, but I liked it because it was so clean and all mine.

  At bedtime I gave Dad a kiss and cuddle and then Sandra took me up to bed. She tucked me in, stroked my hair and kissed me goodnight. She made me feel I was special to her and after she’d gone I lay in the dark, remembering her touch on my hair and thinking that no-one had ever touched me like that before.

  The next morning they offered me a choice of cereal, toast or a cooked breakfast. I asked for a bacon sandwich. I loved them and never had one at Mum’s as bacon was expensive and if we ever had any it was only for Mum.

  I loved my stay, and asked to come again. Before long I was staying over every weekend. The arrangement suited everyone: Mum was glad to have me out of the way and Dad and Sandra seemed to like me being around. As for me, I felt at last I had found people I could trust, and I wanted to be with them. Dad wasn’t much richer than Mum, but he gave me time and attention, we did things together and he didn’t shout at me or get angr
y, and that meant the world to me.

  I couldn’t get over how different things were at Dad’s. I had the run of the house and was free to help myself to food in the kitchen. I would make myself toast and jam and coffee and sit on the sofa with them, in my pyjamas and dressing gown, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Dad and Sandra must have thought I was easily pleased, but to me toast and jam and coffee was luxury. Mum would never allow me things like coffee; she always said it was too expensive and only she and the guests could have it. I wasn’t allowed jam either. I had to make do with real basics unless Mum was feeling in a particularly good mood, or the shoplifters had been round selling stolen goods and she had got some bargains.

  Mum always seemed to be agitated by my very existence, but at Dad’s it was so different. He and Sandra seemed happy for me to be there. They gave me a say in what we watched on TV and asked me what I’d like to eat and where I’d like to go. I felt wanted in a way I never had before. Sandra had her part-time job in a café near their house and Dad would take me in there to wait for her to finish.

  I loved watching Sandra working behind the counter, making sandwiches and burgers and pouring cups of tea and coffee. She must have seen how transfixed I was by it all, because one day she yelled over to me, ‘Don’t just stand there, young lady, get this apron on and give me a hand.’

  I didn’t need to be asked twice. I grabbed an apron and went behind the counter and Sandra told me to butter a pile of bread.

  I loved my stint in the café, so after that day she would take me to work with her most Saturdays and let me help her serve the chip butties and burgers. She’d give me two pounds for helping, and then on the way home we’d go to the shops for chocolate cake and sweets. Back at home, we’d sit on their shocking-purple sofa and cuddle in front of the TV.

  When Sandra wasn’t at work, she and Dad would often take me shopping in town. We’d wander round the shops, just looking, or buy things they needed for the house.

  I never asked for anything; I already felt I had so much from them. So when Sandra steered me into a shoe shop one day I looked at her, puzzled.

  ‘Come on,’ she grinned. ‘I’ve seen you staring at those trainers over there. Let’s see if they’ve got them in your size.’

  I felt so excited I was almost giddy. I had longed for a pair of pretty new trainers, but never thought I could have them. I’d had to make do with ugly old second-hand ones ever since I could remember. I’d had new shoes at Cherry Road - but never trainers.

  I sat staring down at them as I tried them on, not wanting to take my eyes off them for a second.

  ‘Well, do they fit?’ Sandra asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I beamed, looking up at her. ‘They’re great.’

  ‘Better wear them right now then,’ Sandra smiled, heading over to the till to pay.

  My tatty old shoes were thrown into a bin outside the shop as we left. I couldn’t stop looking down at my feet - I was afraid that if I did the trainers might disappear. For the next few days I bumped into everything in my path - people, bollards, dogs and post-boxes.

  Being with Dad and Sandra was like having a taste of a different life and I wished it could last. I always felt upset when I had to go back home again, but I didn’t dare suggest I went to live with them - I didn’t know if Mum would agree, or if they would want me around all the time.

  Dad’s mother, Nan, often came over to their house to see me. It was she who told me how hard they had all tried to see us in the past.

  ‘We never gave up,’ she said. ‘Your dad longed to see you, and so did I. We tried all the time. We sent birthday and Christmas cards, and took presents round. Your mum wouldn’t give any of them to you.

  ‘Your mum and dad had fallen out, but that was no reason to bar us from seeing you. We wanted to, so much. Your dad tried again when you went into care. But your mum always told social services that he was violent and asked them not to let him have any contact.

  ‘We couldn’t believe it when she got in touch to say she wanted him to come over and see you. It was like all our Christmases had come at once.’

  I felt shocked and amazed to hear that Dad had wanted to see us all along.

  Later I plucked up the courage to ask Dad if he really had been violent. He looked very serious and paused, trying to find the right words. ‘I didn’t behave well,’ he said at last. ‘Your mum and I were fighting all the time and I lost it a few times. I’m not proud of that. But I loved you kids; I want you to know that. Your mum and I were better off apart, but I was absolutely gutted when she said I couldn’t see you.’

  Hearing this turned my world upside down. I sat alone in my room thinking about it for hours. Our lives might have been so different. George and Terry might never have been able to hurt us the way they did. We might never have been in care, if only our dad had been in our lives.

  If only Mum had let him see us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jamie was still getting into all kinds of trouble, and inevitably it came to a head. He’d got away with fines and warnings so far, but when he was caught stealing yet again, he was told that this time he would probably get a custodial sentence.

  In the hope that it might make a difference, Mum asked Dad to let Jamie come and live with him and Sandra, and Dad agreed. Jamie was delighted, and moved straight away. I couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous - I’d have liked to go and live with them, but instead Jamie got to go because he’d been thieving and breaking the law.

  Once Jamie was there, I saw less of them. Dad and Sandra had their hands full with him, and although I was still welcome, Dad wasn’t able to come and get me as often, and the atmosphere there was more strained. My happy weekends helping Sandra in the café and cuddling on the sofa afterwards became more and more rare. I felt sad and hurt that, once again, Jamie seemed to be more important than me.

  I was spending most of my time at home - where Mum was still partying every day with the people she met in the pub. She still seemed to be on a path to self-destruction, drinking heavily and wearing flimsy, revealing clothes. She was flirting with lads half her age, wearing baby-doll nighties with her dressing gown hanging open. She would parade around the room, cackling with laughter, a fag hanging out of her mouth, telling filthy jokes and dropping innuendos and of course the lads she invited over would be winking at each other with big grins on their faces.

  I was so embarrassed that I was quite happy to go and make drinks for all of them, or act as gopher for her, just to avoid having to watch.

  Mum was also taking more drugs. She was still smoking dope, and now she had started using hallucinogenic ‘magic’ mushrooms. Jamie had brought some home, and Mum thought they were great. After he left to go to Dad’s, she got someone else to bring her some. She’d eat them and then start laughing her head off in a really scary way. She tried to get me to take some too, but I was too scared. In the end I nibbled one, just to make her happy, but it didn’t do anything to me at all - to my relief.

  Tanya had dumped her boyfriend, Kevin, and seemed to have a new one every week. Mostly they were older lads, in their early twenties, and even though Tanya was still just sixteen, Mum let her sleep with them at home. We were in separate rooms by that time, because Jamie had gone, and Tanya had a double bed in our old room. She’d disappear upstairs with boys quite openly, and come back down an hour or two later, grinning.

  I didn’t want to be sleeping with boys the way Tanya did, but I was jealous of how popular she was. All the boys flocked around her and didn’t even seem to notice me. I was still very podgy and shy, while Tanya was gorgeous and confident.

  Then one day she disappeared. She hadn’t been going to school for a while, so she spent her days out and about with various friends. We never knew where she was, but she always came home. Until one day she didn’t.

  The next morning I told Mum that Tanya hadn’t come in. Mum didn’t seem worried. ‘She probably stayed at a mate’s,’ she said, yawning. ‘She’ll be back later.’ But Tanya wasn
’t back later, and she didn’t appear the next day, or the next.

  It was social services who alerted the police. Anna was away, so another social worker came to check on us because we weren’t at school, and heard that Tanya hadn’t been seen for a few days. By the time the police came round, Mum had cleaned the place up and was all motherly concern.

  I was worried sick about Tanya, imagining she’d been kidnapped or murdered. Why else was there no word from her? If she was all right, surely she would let us know? But then, I thought, perhaps she wouldn’t. Perhaps she would think that no-one would really care.

  When the police and social services weren’t around, Mum didn’t seem worried at all. I wondered sometimes whether perhaps she knew where Tanya was, and just didn’t want the authorities to find out.

  It was twelve days before they found her, living with a twenty-five-year-old boyfriend, the boyfriend’s mother and her girlfriend, in a high-rise block of flats. She didn’t want to come home, and as she was sixteen they couldn’t force her. Mum certainly wasn’t bothered. But a couple of weeks later Tanya came back, her face bruised from where her boyfriend had hit her during a fight.

  Once Tanya was back, things carried on just as before. Mum was drinking, smoking and carrying on with younger men. Tanya was out most of the time, or taking boys up to her room. As for me, I was miserable. I’d started to feel a bit better about myself when I was spending time with Dad and Sandra. But with Mum poking fun at me, calling me Fatty and treating me like a slave, my confidence plunged and I felt down in the dumps, lonely and in the way.

  Like Tanya, I had stopped going to school. By the time I was thirteen, I had more or less left. I just couldn’t face the taunts, the name-calling and seeing people laughing at me. I was overweight and wore hideous clothes and was a sitting target for every bully. The teachers didn’t help me and, even though I wasn’t stupid, I was behind because I’d missed so much schooling. It seemed easier to give up on it all. No-one checked up on me or tried to get me to go to school, so I just sat at home. Sometimes I sat with Mum and her friends, but most of the time I was upstairs in my room, feeling that no-one in the world wanted me.