by Sandy Taylor
The lady put her arm around my shoulder and gently guided me into a room just off the hallway. I’d never seen anything like it in the whole of my life. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow across the pale sofas and glass tables. I looked at the others standing in a huddle just inside the doorway. It was like stepping into another world but this wasn’t our world, this would never be our world.
This world was perfect and we were spoiling it. We were dirty and we were poor, and we didn’t belong here; we would never belong here.
The lady eased me down onto one of the soft velvet sofas. I could feel my petticoat damp against my bare legs and I knew that my skirt was dirty from sitting on the groyne. I started to stand up. I felt embarrassed, I couldn’t sit there.
‘My skirt,’ I began, ‘it’s dirty.’
‘Sit down, darling,’ she said, smiling kindly.
I sat down and stared at my dirty old shoes. I felt worthless and stupid and out of place; I should never have come here.
The lady was kneeling down in front of me now. ‘You said you needed my help, please tell me what I can do to help you.’
Jack walked across to where I was sitting. ‘We need to get home quickly,’ he said. ‘We think Maureen and Brenda’s dad is in trouble. We don’t have the tram fare to get home. We can pay you back,’ he added quickly.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said the lady.
Just then the lady’s horrible husband came into the room. ‘What’s all this?’ he demanded.
I looked up at him. ‘We’re not tinkers,’ I said, ‘we’re proper people.’
‘Of course you are,’ said the nice lady, glaring at her husband. ‘These children need our help, Peter. I want you to get the car out and take them home.’
You could see he wasn’t happy.
‘Right now, Peter,’ said the lady.
‘I’ll get my coat,’ he said.
We waited for him to get his coat and then back the car out of the garage.
The lady put her arms around me. ‘Come back and let me know that everything is alright, won’t you?’
I hugged her. ‘I will, and thank you.’
‘My name’s Mrs Bentley.’
‘Maureen O’Connell,’ I said.
‘I’ll see you again, Maureen, and try not to worry. I’m sure your daddy will be fine.’
We all climbed into the car. Jack sat in the front with Mr Bentley and the rest of us sat in the back. The car had soft leather seats and it smelled lovely. At any other time we would have been excited. Me and Brenda had never been in a car before and I was pretty sure that Monica hadn’t either.
I stared out of the window into the darkness and I prayed. Dear God and the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the angels, please let my daddy be alright. Please don’t let anything bad happen to him. Please, please don’t let anything bad happen to him.
Twenty-Three
Mr Bentley took us as far as the alleyway. As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out and started running. I was halfway down the alley when a group of boys from the estate came running towards me.
‘It’s her!’ one of them shouted.
I tried to pass them but they had formed a circle around me.
One of the boys came very close to me, almost touching my face, and then, very slowly, he said, ‘Your dad’s topped himself.’
‘No he hasn’t!’ I screamed.
‘Yes he has,’ sneered the boy. ‘He’s topped himself. Slit his wrists he has, there’s blood runnin’ all down the walls.’
‘You’re a liar!’ I screamed. ‘You’re a liar, you’re a bloody liar!’
I pushed him to the ground and started hitting him. ‘You take that back, you bloody take that back!’ I wanted to kill him. He was trying to defend himself but I was strong; I was stronger than I had ever been. I could hear screaming but I wasn’t going to stop, and then someone was pulling at my arms and dragging me off him: it was Jack.
The boy’s nose was all bloody and he was crying. ‘I’m gonna tell on you, Maureen O’Connell,’ he snivelled.
Jack pulled him roughly off the ground. ‘Clear off, you idiots, or you’ll have me to deal with.’
I yanked myself away from Jack and started running again. I could hear the others running behind me. As soon as I turned the corner into See Saw Lane I saw the ambulance and the police car. Someone was screaming in my head: Don’t be dead, Daddy. Don’t be dead, Daddy. Don’t be dead, Daddy. Don’t be dead, Daddy.
There was a policeman standing at my gate. I tried to get past him but he was big and wide and I couldn’t see anything. ‘Where’s my daddy?’ I screamed. ‘Where’s my daddy?’
‘You can’t come in here, love,’ said the policeman gently.
I was pulling at him. ‘I have to see my daddy, please let me see my daddy.’
‘Is someone with this child?’ said the policeman, looking around.
‘I am,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll take her into my house.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until I see Daddy!’ I screamed.
Jack had his arms around me, my head was pressed against his chest and I could feel his heart beating beneath his coat. He held me away from him.
‘Brenda needs you, Maureen,’ he said gently.
‘Brenda?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘She needs you.’
I looked around and saw Brenda and Monica sitting on the ground. I walked over to Brenda and gently lifted her up. There were tears pouring down her cheeks and she was shaking.
‘It’s alright, love,’ I said, taking off my coat and wrapping it around her.
She looked up at me.
‘Dadda?’
‘We’re going to go into Jack’s house, Brenda. That’s what we’re going to do now.’
‘Is Dadda going to the hospital, Maureen?’ said Brenda.
I didn’t know what to say to her because I knew that Daddy wasn’t going to the hospital, I knew that my daddy was gone.
‘We have to go into Jack’s house now, Brenda.’
‘OK,’ she said.
Monica stood up. ‘Oh, Maureen,’ she said.
‘You go home, Monica,’ I said sadly.
‘Will you be alright?’
I shook my head; I knew that I would never be alright.
‘Your lovely daddy,’ she said and kissed my cheek.
I held Brenda’s hand and we all walked up the path and into Jack’s house. Aunty Marge was sitting on a couch in Jack’s front room with her arms around Mum, who was bent over with her head in her hands. Aunty Marge was sobbing. She came over to us, shaking her head.
‘My poor babies,’ she said, hugging us both.
Brenda went over to Mum, needing comfort, but Mum didn’t touch her, she didn’t even look at her. Aunty Marge gently guided her away and brought her back to me.
‘Your mum’s not very well, Brenda,’ she said.
I hadn’t sat down; I was still standing just inside the door to the front room.
I felt a hand slip into mine: it was Nelson.
Mrs Forrest came into the room carrying a tray of tea.
‘Do you want some tea, Maureen?’ said Nelson.
I looked at Nelson. I had so much pain inside me that I couldn’t speak – I didn’t think that I would ever speak again, or feel again or do anything again.
I looked around the room; it seemed to be full of people. Uncle John, Uncle Fred, Aunty Vera, bloody Malcolm, a policeman and a policewoman. I didn’t want to be here. They were all staring at me. I felt too big standing there against the wall, my body felt as though it were swelling with all the pain that was inside it. I wanted them to stop looking at me; I wanted to be invisible. I wanted to be with my daddy.
I looked at my mum sitting there, staring into space, and I looked at Brenda, clinging onto Aunty Marge, and I felt a heaviness settle itself on my shoulders.
‘Look after your sister,’ Daddy had said. ‘Bye-bye, sweet face,’ he’d said.
He k
new that he wasn’t going to come back to the lagoon; he knew that he was never going to see us again. ‘Look after your sister,’ he’d said. ‘Bye-bye, sweet face.’ Had I said goodbye to him? I wasn’t sure. I was angry, I had never been so angry. If I’d known he was going to bloody top himself, I would have said goodbye. In that moment I hated him. I hated him for leaving me; I hated him for not loving me enough to stay.
‘Sorry for your trouble,’ someone said.
I looked up. Aunty Vera was standing in front of me.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said, glaring at her.
‘Now, Maureen,’ said Aunty Marge gently.
‘She’s only come here to gawp. She didn’t even like my daddy and I don’t bloody like her, so she can bugger off home and she can take that fat lump of humanity that she managed to push out with her!’
Aunty Vera stared at me with her beady little eyes. ‘You’re not a nice girl, Maureen O’Connell, you never were. You and your wonderful daddy! Well, he’s not so wonderful now, is he? He turned out to be the coward I always knew he was.’
Aunty Marge walked across to us. ‘You’ve said enough, Vera Butterworth. You were a mean, spiteful child and you’ve turned into a mean, spiteful woman. Now do as Maureen says and bugger off!’
Aunty Vera was red in the face. ‘Fred,’ she shouted across the room, ‘we’re going home! I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.’ And she flounced out of the room with Uncle Fred and Malcolm running behind her.
Aunty Marge put her arms around me. ‘She’s wrong about your dad, Maureen. He was never a coward, he was one of the nicest and kindest men I ever knew and he loved you and Brenda so much.’
‘Why did he leave us if he loved us so much? Why did he do that, Aunty Marge?’
‘Your daddy would have stayed if he could. Don’t be angry with him, my love. And don’t you take any notice of your Aunty Vera, she’s always been jealous of your mum, that’s what that was all about.’
‘I hate her, Aunty Marge. I do, I hate her.’
‘She’s more to be pitied than hated, my love.’
Brenda was standing in front of me, tears streaming down her face. ‘I’ve gone and wet meself, Maureen,’ she said. ‘I’ve gone and wet meself on Jack’s carpet.’
I smoothed her hair out of her eyes. ‘It’s OK, love.’
‘It’s gone into my socks and shoes, Maureen, and me knickers are soaking wet.’
I took hold of her hand, walked her across the room and knelt down beside Mum. ‘Brenda needs you,’ I said.
Mum didn’t move.
I shook her arm. ‘You have to look after Brenda, Mum. She’s wet herself, you have to look after her.’
‘Brenda?’ said Mum, looking at me.
‘Yes, Brenda. Someone has to go next door and get her some dry clothes. You have to ask someone to go next door.’
Something seemed to click in Mum. She looked at me properly, as if she was seeing me for the first time. ‘Of course, yes of course, I’ll ask Uncle John.’ Then she took us both in her arms and held us tightly against her. She didn’t smell the way she usually smelled, maybe sadness has its own smell. I wondered if I smelled of sadness as well.
‘I peed on Jack’s rug, Mum,’ said Brenda, looking up.
Mum smiled sadly at her. ‘Don’t you worry about that, pet,’ she said.
I could see Jack looking at me from across the room. He walked over. ‘Do you want to go outside?’
I nodded and let him lead me out of the room, through the kitchen and into the dark night. Nelson followed us.
We walked to the end of the garden and sat on a bench. Jack put his arm around me and I leaned against him. It was better out here. I could pretend that nothing was wrong, that my daddy hadn’t topped himself. I looked up at the sky; it was pitch-black and full of stars.
‘I bet your dad’s looking down on you, Maureen,’ said Nelson softly. ‘He’ll be the brightest star up there.’
‘Will he?’ I said.
‘I talk to my mum when the sky’s full of stars.’
‘Do you?’
Nelson nodded. ‘We get on better now. I don’t think there’s any booze in Heaven.’
‘I’m glad, Nelson. Won’t the home be wondering where you are?’ I said.
‘Jack’s dad let them know – I’m staying here tonight with Jack. Where are you going to stay, Maureen?’
‘At home, I suppose.’
‘Won’t you be scared?’
‘The worst thing in the world has happened, Nelson. My daddy’s dead, nothing could ever be as bad as that. I’m not scared to go back home because I think that’s where he is.’
Nelson put his hand on his heart. ‘My mum’s in here and that’s where your dad will always be.’
We sat quietly together on the bench. It was comforting to sit there with my two friends beside me. I could see lights on in my house; it seemed odd that strangers were in there. I wondered if someone had cleaned the blood off the walls. I could see the shadow of my tree over the fence and I could hear Daddy saying, ‘Is that two little birds up in that tree, or is it my angels?’
It’s your angels, Daddy. It’s your two little angels.
Twenty-Four
A light had gone out of my life and nothing would ever be the same again. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t – I hadn’t cried since the night Daddy died. Mum was crying all the time, so was Brenda, and I was trying to be strong for them but I didn’t feel strong, I didn’t feel anything. I felt so empty, there was this big hole inside me that couldn’t be filled. I ached for my daddy, I wanted him back; I wanted to go back to a time when we were happy. Pushing Brenda along the seafront in the squeaky pushchair, skimming stones on the sea, running across the Downs, tumbling in the grass, feeling his arms around me. I knew that if I started to cry I would never stop, so I kept everything inside. I was finding it harder and harder to picture Daddy’s lovely face. At night in bed I concentrated really hard. I remembered bits of him, like his eyes and his smile. I could smell the margarine that he smoothed on his hair but I could never find the whole of him; I could never put all the bits together. I didn’t even have a photo to look at because we had never owned a camera, only rich people had cameras.
Mostly people were kind but they never knew what to say to us. They touched my arm and ruffled Brenda’s hair. Some people said, ‘I’m sorry for your trouble.’ Of course there were the nosy old biddies on the estate that pretended to care but really just wanted me to tell them all the gory details. I told them to bugger off.
The last of the rich ladies sent Mum home because she was upsetting the children with all her crying, so that was the end of the rich ladies and Mum didn’t have a job. I didn’t know what to do, because there was no money to pay the rent or buy food. If something didn’t happen soon, me and Brenda would end up in an orphanage, just like Nelson. Aunty Marge and Uncle John helped as much as they could but they didn’t have much themselves. Aunty Vera and Uncle Fred were the only ones with the money and we hadn’t seen sight nor sound of them since we chucked them out of Jack’s house. Not that any of us wanted their rotten money.
* * *
Early one morning, while it was still dark, I shook Brenda awake and told her to get ready for school.
‘But it’s the middle of the night, Maureen,’ she said sleepily.
‘There’s no money for the tram fare, we’re going to have to walk.’
I desperately needed to get out of the house. Mom just sat around crying and staring at the walls. She didn’t cook or wash our clothes. There were times when I thought that we might be better off in an orphanage because at least we’d get to eat. I was racking my brains trying to think of a way to make Mum wake up and start looking after us. Funnily enough, it was old Aquinas that made that happen.
I was called out of an English lesson and told that I was to go at once to Aquinas’s office.
‘What does she want?’ said Monica, looking worried.
‘I’m about to fin
d out,’ I said.
When I got there Brenda was already standing in front of the old bat’s desk, looking terrified. I smiled reassuringly at her and held her hand.
‘Right,’ said Aquinas, standing up and glaring at us. ‘It has come to my attention that your father is dead. Is that right?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ I said.
‘And not only is he dead but he took his own life?’
There was not a spark of sympathy in those spiteful eyes. I could feel Brenda shaking beside me.
‘So what have you got to say for yourself, Maureen O’Connell?’
‘Nothing, Sister.’
‘Nothing, Sister,’ she mimicked in a sing-song voice.
I was confused. What the bloody hell did she expect me to say?
Aquinas was going red in the face, as if she couldn’t get all that nastiness out of her mouth quick enough.
‘The reason you have nothing to say, Maureen O’Connell, is because of your shame.’
I stared at her and said quietly, ‘I have nothing to be ashamed of, Sister.’
‘How dare you stand there, as brazen as you like, Maureen O’Connell, knowing your father has sinned against God. Your father has driven a knife into the very heart of our Divine Saviour.’
‘When did he do that, Maureen?’ asked Brenda, looking up at me with tears in her eyes.
‘He didn’t, Brenda, she’s talking out of the back of her head.’
Aquinas slammed her hand down on the desk. ‘Your father died in a state of mortal sin and he will burn in the fires of Hell for all eternity!’ she screamed.
I could see the sweat running down her ugly fat face and disappearing into her wimple.
‘No he won’t!’ yelled Brenda. ‘My dada is with the angels in Heaven, isn’t he, Maureen? Dada’s with the angels?’
‘Of course he is,’ I said.
Aquinas reached into her drawer and took out a long ruler. ‘The sins of the father will be visited on the children,’ she said, advancing towards Brenda.
Before I could stop her she’d whacked Brenda across the backs of her legs. Poor Brenda squealed and tried to get away from her but Aquinas grabbed hold of her arm and went to hit her again.