Cutting the Cord

by Amanda Bateman

  “But what if you—” began Megan.

  “I’m a stubborn old thing, Megan, you know that. I’ll not let him upstairs take me until I’ve seen each and every one of your ugly mugs.”

  “But—”

  “No buts about it, Megan. I promise, I won’t go anywhere, sweetheart, without saying goodbye. I promise.” Bea reached across the table and tenderly rubbed Megan’s hand, before taking a seat opposite her and then pouring the tea

  “You were my saviour, Aunt Bea. When all those terrible things were happening to me. You were the one thing that kept me going.” It was Megan’s turn to gently caress her aunt’s hand. “The only time I ever felt love, felt special, felt safe, was when you’d come and visit. You’d take me on shopping trips for beautiful dresses and you’d brush my hair until it shone. Then you’d let me snuggle down beside you in your bed for the night and you’d read me those wonderful stories of beautiful princesses and happy ever afters. I’d cry for days, weeks, after you’d returned here, to England. The charade of our happy home would be over. Mum would be hitting the bottle by the time you’d closed the cab door. Within a few days, she’d be back in her alcohol-fuelled haze and dad would be entering my bedroom again.”

  “Ssshhh, child, that’s all in the past. There’s no need to torture yourself with it now. It wasn’t your fault what happened.”

  “I know that, Aunt Bea. I just need to get it out. To tell you about that night. Please let me, Aunt Bea, before it’s too late…” Megan held Bea’s hand tight and looked into her aunt’s eyes. She nodded her assent and Megan continued her account.

  “Mum was totally spaced out when I got home from school that day. The house was a mess. The breakfast dishes were still on the table and she’d been sick all over the family room couch. I knew dad was going to hit the roof when he got in, so I started to clean it up, in the hope I’d get it done before he got home. I’d managed to clean off the couch and was just drying up the breakfast dishes when he walked through the door. He told me to go to my room. I knew it was best to do as he said so I put the tea towel down and went straight to my room. The shouting started before I even made it to the top of the stairs. Dad was hollering, calling mum a drunken whore but this time, for the first time, mum was hollering back. I was about to head back downstairs when mum appeared in the hallway. I quickly ran into my bedroom. I slammed the door shut then curled up into a ball in the far corner. Mum was coming up the stairs and dad was hot on her heels. She’d made it into their bedroom before he caught her then the beating began. At first, I could tell she was fighting back but then she went quiet and all I could hear was dad kicking her. Then he stopped. I could hear him calling out her name. He called out to her several times then he went back downstairs. I got up off the floor and crept across my room and slid open my door. I tiptoed across the landing to their bedroom. The door was wide open. I’d never seen so much blood before. It was all over the room. And on the floor lay mum’s lifeless body covered in blood. I thought she was dead. I really did. I stood frozen to the spot. Dad dragging me by my hair back into my bedroom and, throwing me on the bed, brought me out of the trance I was in and straight into a living nightmare. His eyes were full of pure evil. He looked at me lying prone on my bed and let out this horrendous chortle. I thought this is it! I’m going to die! He’s got nothing to lose! Mum’s dead and he’s going to rape me and kill me too! I prayed for it to be quick. For it to be over with. He didn’t just rape me that evening. He made me do terrible things to him. He beat me. He bit me. But I wouldn’t cry out. I thought only of you, Aunt Bea. Of all the kindness you’d shown me, and I prayed for Uncle Arthur to come get me. Dad had punched me several times in the face to get me to perform sexual acts on him. Both of my eyes were swollen, but out of the corner of my left eye as he was raping me for what seemed the umpteenth time, I saw a shadow enter the room. I thought my prayers had been answered. Uncle Arthur had finally come for me. Then there was this ear-shattering bang. My ears were ringing, and I felt this liquid drip down onto my bare chest. Dad slumped over to the side and then there was mum’s beaten-up face smiling down on me. “It’s over sweet Megan,” she said, then raised the gun and shot her own brains out. Right there in front of me. The last thing I remember before waking up in hospital was calling out your name.” Megan hadn’t taken her eyes off her aunt as she spoke. She watched as the real horror of that fateful night began to sink in and bring tears to her aunt’s eyes. Megan wiped one of those tears away with her index finger.

  “Oh, Megan!” Bea began. “I knew it was bad, but I never imaged it was so, so…”

  “Violent? Horrendous?” Megan offered.

  “All of those things and much, much more,” replied Bea.

  “When the welfare lady told me you were coming to get me, I cried. She thought I didn’t want to go with you. I told her that the minute you walked through the door and held me in your arms, this nightmare would be over. And I was right, Aunt Bea. You, uncle Harry, grandad George, Charlie and Janie gave me my happy ever after but now you’re…” Bea placed a finger to Megan’s lips to prevent her from saying more.

  “You’ll have lots of happy times in the future, Megan, but everyone’s life is tinged by sadness at times. It’s the nature of things. You, Arthur, Harry, Charlie, Janie, dad and so many, many more special, wonderful people have given me happy times. My happy ever after is coming to an end but not yours, sweetheart. Yours is only just beginning. You said you called out for Arthur to come get you? Didn’t you?” Megan nodded in agreement. “You believed he would come get you? That he was out there, somewhere, perhaps watching over you, didn’t you?” Again, Megan nodded in agreement. “When my time comes, I’ll be with my Arthur again and together we’ll watch over you, Megan. I’ll always be with you, sweetheart. Not in the flesh but in spirit. In your heart, in your mind and in your memories. Just like my Arthur is with me right now. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, Megan. I’ve had mine. It’s had its dark times, its tough times, but it’s also had so many good times, happy times. I’ve experienced heartache, pain, joy, laughter, tears but most of all I’ve experienced love. And each emotion, each experience has made me, me. Has brought me to where I am now. I’m not afraid of dying, Megan. I’ve had a good life. A full life. And you can make this easier for me by carrying on. By making the most of your life. You’ve got the help and support of a good family now and I reckon Dave plans on being a big part of your life too.” Megan smiled.

  “He does, Aunt Bea, he does. Apart from you, he’s the only other person I’ve chosen to tell about that day. And you know what, Aunt Bea? He cried like a baby, then held me so tight, I thought he was going to suffocate me. I even told him that the chances of me carrying a child full-term were a million to one. He just said, ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.’

  “I knew I liked him. I thought Josef was cut from the same cloth as Dave, but I got that wrong.”

  “We all did, Aunt Bea. Dave doesn’t want anything more to do with him. Says he thought better of him. Josef just told him to mind his own business and then informed him he’s already found a replacement for Janie on the tour.”

  “Charlie said the same. Only he used more colourful language when describing this Amber Murray.’”

  “He has a way with words does our Charlie,” giggled Megan.

  “He’s either all prim and proper or swearing like an old fishwife, he is,” giggled Bea. Bea took a sip of her tea and immediately spat it back into the cup.

  “Tea’s gone cold,” explained Bea.

  “Or, as Charlie would say, ‘fuck me, this tea is bloody cold.’” With that they both fell about laughing and all thoughts of death and horrendous deeds slipped from their minds.

  JANIE

  1st February 1983

  Life at the cottage with Bea had settled into a routine quickly. Weekends were taken up with either Janie’s dad and grandad or Charlie or Megan visitin
g. On Mondays, the village busybody, Mair Morgan, would pop in at 10am prompt and relay all the local gossip and goings on to Bea. Wednesdays were when Bronwyn Evans would call in with books and magazines for both Bea and Janie. Friday mornings, Bea’s next-door neighbour Mavis Banford would come sit with Bea while Janie went and got the week’s shopping from either Barmouth or Porthmadog. That left Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, which were filled up by Gwen Hughes, the district nurse and long-time friend of Bea. Gwen had taken to keeping those afternoons between two and four free to bathe and see to any medical needs of her dearest friend. Gwen was already running the bath for Bea as she ushered Janie out of the cottage, encouraging her, as always, to make the most of this time for herself.

  It was a dry afternoon and wrapped up against the chill of the sea breeze Janie had headed down through the cottage’s garden and out through the little wooden gate and onto the beach. The tide was almost completely out and there wasn’t another soul to be seen in either direction. Janie turned left and headed down the beach towards all the caravan parks. They were all shut up for the winter. She loved walking through them when they were so quiet and peaceful. Occasionally, she’d see a gardener or a maintenance man working on a caravan or the gardens but that was about it. She’d follow the lane, leading out of the parks, up and over the railway bridge and then out onto the main road that would eventually lead her back to her aunt’s cottage. It was a good couple of miles’ round trip, but Janie loved the solitude. It gave her time to think. To clear her mind.

  As Janie walked along the sandy beach her thoughts turned to what Charlie had said during the weekend. He’d been so angry at himself for letting it slip that Josef had indeed flown off with Amber Murray in tow to photograph that, ‘fucking shite band’, as he’d called them. It had hurt her to hear it but nowhere near as much as his callous disregard for Bea’s fate had. That anger had still not subsided. How could she have been so blind to what he was really like? How could she have not seen that selfish side to him? After all, there had been clues along the way. They’d always seemed to do what he’d suggested. He’d break dates with her at the drop of a hat if one of his friends invited him out. He’d not stopped to ask how she felt about totally changing all their plans for their great adventure around Europe. When they’d discussed doing the whole wide world she’d beamed with delight. They’d be about to leave Australia now if they’d gone in the October like they’d planned to do. They would have spent Christmas Day having a barbecue on the beach but instead she’d spent Christmas Day hiding the pain of what she’d learnt about Bea’s cancer from the rest of her family. The beginning of tears stared to tickle her nose and form in the corner of her eyes, but she refused to shed another tear over Josef. Janie took a deep breath of the crisp cold sea air, filling her lungs and stemming the flow of any tears. She took a tissue from her coat pocket, dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose, then looked out at the deep blue sea and yelled at the top of her lungs, “FUCK YOU, JOSEF WOJTASKI. I don’t need a selfish little git like you. And fuck you too, Amber-fucking-Murray.” Then she burst out laughing as she thought Amber probably was being fucked right now by Josef. With a new resolve to forget all about Josef, the band, the tour and Amber-fucking-Murray, Janie ran towards the surf’s edge, waving her hands in the air like a mad woman. But she didn’t care. She was Jane Elizabeth Arnold and she wasn’t going to waste precious energy on a shite like Josef when she had her beautiful, beloved Bea to take care of.

  Gwen was just filling up a tea tray with ham sandwiches and home-made scones when Janie entered through the back door of the cottage straight into the kitchen.

  “Hang your coat up, sweetheart, then join us by the fire for a bite to eat,” announced Gwen as she took the tea tray through into the small living room. “Be a love and bring the teapot with you; it’s already filled.” Janie hung her coat on the back of the kitchen door, washed her hands in the kitchen sink then carried the teapot through, complete with its woolly jacket. Bea was sitting in the large armchair next to the fire. Her hair was newly washed and shone in the glow of the fire. She’d applied a touch of lipstick to her lips and she smelt of baby talcum powder. All clean and fresh.

  “Enjoy your walk?” she asked.

  “I did, thank you,” she replied while trying to find a place on the crowded coffee table for the teapot. Gwen helped by moving the side plates out of the way.

  “Anyone about?” enquired Gwen. Janie placed the teapot on the table then sat down beside Gwen on the small two-seater couch.

  “Not a soul on the beach. I met Mr Lloyd walking his dog on the railway bridge and Mrs Banford waved from her kitchen window as I walked by but that was it.”

  “I used to love walking on the beach at this time of year,” began Bea. “Collecting shells for decorating the borders alongside the footpath. I’d pick up pieces of driftwood and stones too, if I could see faces in them.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” said Janie, getting to her feet. “I found a stone for you, Aunt Bea; it’s in my coat pocket. I’ll go get it.” In no time at all Janie was handing the stone over to her aunt. Bea could instantly make out the face. It was an angry little face. Cuts in the stone appeared as angry eyebrows. A small blemish on the surface below as a nose then a deeper, longer cut beneath that portrayed a down-in-the mouth look. It did indeed look like an angry little face. Even sceptic Gwen could see the resemblance to that of an angry person.

  “I’d been cursing Josef when I looked down onto the sand and there looking straight up at me was this stone. It made me laugh out loud.”

  “We’ll name him Joyless Joe then,” remarked Bea. “We’ll keep him on the mantelpiece to remind us how we look when we scowl or get angry and hopefully it’ll make us all laugh out loud.” Bea handed the stone back to Janie for her to place it on the mantle. Janie propped it up against the wall for stability then sat back down to admire it.

  “Well, Joyless Joe,” began Gwen, “you’re going to be even more miserable now watching us a lot tuck into this lovely tea.” They all started to laugh as Gwen began handing out the sandwiches.

  Joyless Joe had looked on as they stuffed their faces with ham sandwiches followed by scones topped with butter, jam and thick fresh cream. Bea had managed to eat a fair bit and that had brought joy to both Gwen and Janie. All too soon it had been time for Gwen to go. And, while Bea snoozed in the armchair by the fire, Janie had cleared away the tea things. It’s the first of February, thought Janie as she wiped down the work surfaces in the kitchen. Spring is around the corner. A new year has barely begun, bringing with it yet another year of sadness and heartache to endure. She’d be twenty at the end of the year. No longer a teenager, yet still a child in so many ways. Only nineteen, with so much heartache already under her belt and a belly full of sadness waiting on the horizon. She had no idea what the future held in store for her. All her plans had turned to dust. Where she went from here, she had no idea. But she wasn’t going to turn into a Joyless Joe. She was going to face life and whatever it threw at her with a smile on her face and love in her heart. If not for herself, for Freddy and Bea.

  BEA

  28th February 1983

  Bea opened her eyes as Janie placed a tea tray on the table beside her bed.

  “You said tea at three,” remarked Janie. Bea smiled at her niece then hauled herself up into a sitting position in the bed. Janie was immediately at her side, plumping up the pillows behind her.

  “Did you bring two cups?” she enquired.

  “Yes,” replied Janie as she placed an extra pillow behind her aunt’s head. “Did you sleep well?” she continued.

  “Very, thank you. Now would you be a dear and pour that tea, my mouth is all dry and furry.” Janie stirred the tea in the pot then filled both the teacups, adding milk and two sugars to Bea’s cup. She handed over the cup and saucer to her aunt then crossed over to the window.

  “I’ve never understood why you chose to have
the bedroom at the front of the cottage overlooking the driveway and the road, when the back bedrooms have those beautiful sea views,” exclaimed Janie, as she stared out at the fading daylight casting shadows over the mountains in the distance.

  “Arthur and I decided straight away that we’d let our guests wake up to those views of the coastline. We get to see them every day; our guests don’t. Besides, Arthur also said we had better things to do in our bedroom than admire the view.” Bea smiled at what the memory had evoked. The cheeky grin on Arthur’s face as he’d spoken the words then how he’d grabbed hold of her and kissed her. Oh, how she missed those kisses, those embraces, their love-making.

  “Are you all right, Aunt Bea?” she heard Janie say. Bea shook the memories from her head and focused on Janie.

  “Just remembering something, sweetheart,” she offered by way of explanation.

  “From the grin on your face I can imagine what!” Janie replied with mock horror in her voice. Bea sipped at her tea at first then, finding it had cooled down enough, she drained the cup then offered it to Janie, requesting a refill.

  Janie was a good girl. She’d taken the offered cup and saucer and had refilled it straight away. She never moaned about all the chores, the running around, the taking care of her personal needs. No. Janie just seemed to take it all in her stride. With Harry and Charlie busy with the garage, Megan engrossed in either her studies or Dave and Josef sloping off aboard with that BLOODY BAND, Bea worried about Janie. How she’d cope after her death. Janie had forsaken her future to come here and care for her; she needed to give her something back. Something for her future. Today, she would set the wheels in motion. She beckoned for Janie to come sit beside her on the bed. Once she was comfortably settled, Bea reached across and held her niece’s hand in hers.