The Home

by Karen Osman

  A.

  Sunday 23 June 1974

  Dear Diary,

  We had scrubbed the place from top to bottom a couple of weeks ago. My knees were sore from cleaning the floors. I was dusting the old desk when I found them. They were in a bundle held by an elastic band all addressed to me in Nelly’s wobbly handwriting. I stared at them for ages. A nice strange feeling, like eating fish and chips on the beach, went through me. Nelly hadn’t forgotten me after all. I was so busy looking at the letters, getting excited at the thought of reading them, that I didn’t see Kath come up behind me. She grabbed the letters from my hand and dragged me by the arm so hard I thought it would come out of its socket. I knew I was going to get a beating, but I didn’t care. Nelly had written to me! But as Kath dragged me to the kitchen, still holding the letters, she lit a match and I knew it was going to be much worse than a beating. Shall I tell you what happens to snoops? she said. They burn in hell, just like these letters. I didn’t realise I was screaming or thrashing at Kath. I didn’t feel it when Ray thundered into the kitchen demanding to know what was going on or when he carried me down to the basement still shouting – I wasn’t aware of anything. All I knew was that those letters were the only good thing in the horrible world I was living in and like everything else, Ray and Kath had destroyed them.

  A.

  Wednesday 17 July 1974

  Dear Diary,

  A new boy has arrived at the home. His name is Mark and he’s 15. He is big but not fat. He would win in a fight. He looks older than 15. He doesn’t talk – not even to Peter.

  A.

  Saturday 17 August 1974

  Dear Diary,

  Ray sent me and Mark to do the shopping. Ray tries to joke with Mark. He told him he’s strong enough to carry the shopping. It’s a thirty-minute walk to the market and Mark didn’t talk at all. About ten minutes into it, he says he has to make a stop. I tell him we can’t – Ray told us to go and come straight back. I think Mark noticed my panic because he said it would only take a minute. We slipped down a street with terraced houses. When we reached number 32, Mark rang the bell and the door opened a bit. Within a minute, we were inside and the man living there had piercings all over his face. I wonder if they hurt. He asked Mark who I was and if anyone saw us come in. Mark said no, told him I was no one, and handed over a small package. The man with piercings handed over some ten-pound notes. I’ve never seen so much money in my life. Then Mark said let’s go. He was right – it was only a minute but if Ray found out, we would be dead. I asked Mark what was in the package. He said nothing and to keep my mouth shut. I looked at Mark and decided he could probably give a good thrashing too.

  A.

  Monday 2 September 1974

  Dear Diary,

  It’s the first day back at school – it was terrible. I’m in the same clothes as last year, which are too small. Kath didn’t even bother to check the lost and found for us. My shoes pinch my toes and I tripped walking to PE class. I’ll have to go to lost and found myself.

  A.

  Tuesday 8 October 1974

  Dear Diary,

  School is better than being with Ray and Kath but sometimes I skip school and go to the park instead. Today, I saw Mark there and he was sitting on the grass near the trees. I went up to him and told him he was in my place. He laughed but in a nice way. He told me to sit next to him and offered me a cigarette. I took a long drag and Mark told me to go easy. It wasn’t a cigarette like Ray’s, though. When I asked him what it was, he told me it was a roll-up – something that would make all the pain go away. It felt like I was floating. It was a really nice feeling.

  A.

  Wednesday 6 November 1974

  Dear Diary,

  Last night was Guy Fawkes Night. A few of us went to the sports club to see the firework display. There was a huge bonfire and everyone was standing around it. Someone had put on top of it an effigy of Guy Fawkes – I imagined it was my mother burning up there instead.

  A.

  Friday 29 November 1974

  Dear Diary,

  Ray has started buying me presents again. When I went to the den, he told me I’d been such a good, quiet girl lately that I deserved a special treat. He gave me a wrapped box and inside was a bracelet-making set. He said I could make them for all my friends at school. I didn’t tell him that I don’t really have any friends at school. Instead, I said thank you and tried to leave but he said aren’t you going to thank me? I gave him a kiss but it wasn’t enough and he grabbed me and pulled me down next to him. I wanted to scream but I knew if I did, it would make it all so much worse. Eventually, he let me go back inside. Later, I asked Mark if he had any more roll-ups. He told me to meet him tomorrow at the park. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about it. I just want to float away from this hell.

  A.

  Monday 16 December 1974

  Dear Diary,

  It’s the week before Christmas and the Inspector came today after school. Yesterday, Ray told us that if there’s any trouble this time, we will ALL pay for it. The Inspector came and drank his tea. When he was leaving he shook hands with Kath and Ray and told them they were doing a great job. I don’t know who I hate more – the Inspector, Kath and Ray, or my mother for leaving me here. I hope they all die.

  A.

  21

  Rosemary

  Rosemary took pride in the fact that she always managed to stay level-headed. The art of composure was a necessary skill, growing up in her family. Even as a child, she instinctively knew that any sort of display of excessive emotion, such as a tantrum, would not be tolerated. Yet, not for the first time, Rosemary felt her patience thinning with Angela. What was she thinking, telling her the news about meeting her birth mother? There Rosemary was, clearly in pieces about James, and Angela insensitive enough to think it appropriate to make such an announcement.

  Rosemary sighed. Young people were so self-involved these days. But Angela had always been like that. She was polite, but she never hesitated to put herself first in any situation. Was that fair, pondered Rosemary, or was it more that Angela always had to be the centre of attention?

  She thought back to a wedding anniversary, years ago now. She and James were all dressed up ready to go out for dinner and she’d been looking forward to it for weeks. Mrs Henderson from down the road was coming to sit in with Angela just in case she needed anything and was already settling herself comfortably with a cup of tea in the living room. But just as they were about to leave, Angela had complained of a temperature and not feeling well. Standing there, wrapped up in her pyjamas and dressing gown, she’d turned her beseeching dark eyes to James and said in a low voice that she didn’t want to be alone. Before Rosemary even had a chance to respond, James had cancelled their plans, telling Angela to get into bed and he would bring hot lemon and honey. Was she sleepy? If not, he could bring the television up to her room and they could sit together and watch it for half an hour.

  Biting her tongue, Rosemary had told herself what a wonderful father James was, so caring, but later that night when Angela was sleeping, she pressed her hand against her forehead. She wasn’t in the slightest bit warm. And as such instances happened over the years – not many, but enough for Rosemary to know that she was being manipulated – a tiny fragment of mistrust lodged itself like shrapnel under the skin.

  22

  Evelyn

  There was nothing else for it – Evelyn would have to call the police. It was the last week in October and she’d tried to get Dougie and his sons involved but he was having none of it. Apparently, her neighbours were renowned drug dealers – not just a bit of weed either – and far too unpredictable to go messing around with when there was nothing in it for them. Half the lads on the estate were already losing business to them and in Dougie’s opinion the whole situation was a firecracker waiting to go off. Piss them off, he said, and God knows what they’re likely to do, especially if they’re high. Nope, reiterated Dougie with certainty, if you asked him (which
Evelyn was beginning to regret doing), his advice would be to stay out of it and put up with it. They would move on soon enough.

  While Dougie’s words made sense, Evelyn was sick and tired of not being able to sleep properly. It was making her even crankier than usual. Doreen hadn’t come up with the goods either. Her only recommendation was to ask Dougie, and look how that had turned out. It was when the music had been playing for ten nights in a row until the early hours of the morning that Evelyn knew she would have to do something drastic. One evening when the music was so loud she could barely hear her own TV, she found the courage to call the police. The phone was picked up immediately.

  ‘What’s your emergency?’

  Startled, Evelyn was unsure how to begin.

  ‘What’s your emergency please?’

  ‘Er, the police, but I just want to check—’

  Before she could continue, the call was transferred. How rude, thought Evelyn. This time, there was at least a dial tone, but it didn’t last long before another voice – female, this time – was ordering her to state her emergency. This time Evelyn was ready.

  ‘I have a noise issue – from the flat opposite. It’s so loud I can’t sleep at night.’

  ‘I see – and have you asked your neighbours to turn it down?’

  ‘Of course, I have!’ replied Evelyn indignantly. ‘Not that it’s made the slightest bit of difference. This is my last resort – calling you. But I want it to remain anonymous – can that be done?’

  ‘Of course. This information won’t be shared with anyone. Now if I can just take a few details, Mrs… er?’

  Evelyn hesitated. ‘Mrs Harris,’ she replied tentatively.

  ‘My name is Constable Farrows. Can I have your address, please?’

  As Evelyn provided all the details, she started to feel reassured by the friendly-sounding constable and her guilt at involving the police began to recede. It helped that the music was so loud that Constable Farrows could hear it down the receiver and she agreed that Evelyn was well within her rights to report it. But within minutes of hanging up, doubt crept in. What the hell was she thinking? Having made the complaint, a new solution came to her. She could have paid another visit to Alan at the council and urged them to find her a new flat. She could easily get the forged paperwork together to state she had medical issues. The police had said on the phone that they would look into the matter but what did that mean exactly? Would they come over? And if they did, would her neighbours know it was her who had called them? Of course, they would: they weren’t stupid. There were only two flats per floor – hers and theirs – and they must have heard her banging on their door and complaining. Should she call them back and withdraw the complaint? But then how would she sleep?

  All that evening, Evelyn felt agitated and not even her TV shows could distract her from the worry of the potential backlash of getting the police involved. But as the hours turned to days and the police didn’t even bother to visit and check, she eventually forgot about it.

  23

  Angela

  ‘Hello.’

  The voice came from behind as Angela was getting a cup of tea. Involuntarily, she shivered in anticipation and then told herself to pull it together – she wasn’t some damsel in distress, for goodness’ sake.

  ‘Hello,’ she said turning around to face Mitchell. He was a good few inches taller than her and his dark blue suit exuded quality and taste. With his dark hair and piercing eyes, both softened by a lazy grin, Angela was glad she had left the office and attended the meeting tonight, and not just to talk more about her birth mother.

  ‘I enjoyed our drink last week,’ said Mitchell, a smile playing on his lips. Looking up at him, she was just about to respond when Susan interrupted them.

  ‘Come on, you two. Are you ready to sit down?’

  Tearing her eyes away from his, Angela sat and looked around the rest of the group. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mitchell trying to catch her attention. Sneaking a peak at him, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. Stifling a laugh, Angela attempted to concentrate on what Susan was saying.

  ‘So, the good news is we’ve had a couple of breakthroughs this week locating birth parents, which is definitely one of the most rewarding parts of my job! I’d also like to welcome a few new members to the group.’ As Susan did a round of introductions, the rest of the members politely murmured a series of greetings.

  ‘Right,’ continued Susan briskly, ‘who would like to start? Angela, how about you?’

  Susan had already checked with Angela that she would be happy to share her story, so she was prepared.

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ replied Angela. ‘Well, I am one of those breakthroughs you mentioned earlier in terms of finding my birth mother, and I would like to thank you, Susan, for the amazing opportunity you’ve given me.’ Angela had rightly guessed that Susan would enjoy the public praise.

  ‘It’s what I’m here for,’ murmured Susan.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to meeting my birth mother in person.’

  Unexpectedly, a round of applause rose from around the room.

  ‘Well done, Angela, we’re all so proud of you,’ said Susan over the din. Angela, feeling slightly overwhelmed and surprisingly emotional, nodded her thanks.

  Turning to the rest of the group, Susan said, ‘As some of you may remember, it can often be a very difficult decision to make to meet a birth parent. Suddenly, it all becomes very real, and we have to accept that what we have in our imagination may not be the same as reality. Ken, you recently met your birth mother, didn’t you, and had a very positive experience? Are you happy to share that with the group?’

  Ken cleared his throat as if preparing for an important speech. He was clearly thrilled to be called upon. ‘Yes, thank you, Susan. Well, I was nervous, of course. I remember the day well – it was a Saturday morning – and Susan had arranged for us to meet in a coffee shop. Susan had shown me a photo, so I knew what she looked like. I remember everything about that day. We met at ten o’clock, and for about the first half-hour we just hugged and she just kept saying how sorry she was, over and over again. We ended up staying in the coffee shop for about five hours, we had so much to talk about. She cried; I tried not to cry,’ he grinned, ‘but it was very emotional. I had a lot of questions and she tried her best to answer them, although I could see that some memories were very painful for her. Before I left, she asked if I would be willing to meet her again.’

  ‘And did you?’ asked Angela, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ replied Ken. ‘I think the apology also helped me. Susan had warned me not to expect it, but it was good to hear. I’ve spent many years wondering about her and I wanted to know more – needed to know more,’ he emphasised.

  Murmurs of, ‘Well done, Ken’ and ‘I agree’ floated across the room as Ken sat back down in his chair.

  ‘Thank you, Ken,’ praised Susan. ‘For some people, that need to know is a very important part of the healing process, and I know you’re on the right track. Right, who would like to go next? Leo?’

  Angela looked across at a man slumped in his chair. He was a new member who was currently staring intently at Katie and her baby. His jeans cuffs were caked with mud and his trainers, once white, were now a dull grey. His red hooded jumper covered his head, despite the warmth inside the church hall.

  ‘Leo?’ repeated Susan.

  Tearing his eyes away from Katie, he looked Susan straight in the eye.

  ‘I’m not ready.’ It was a simple statement, but Angela detected a slight hostility in his tone.

  ‘No problem, Leo, take your time. Maybe try again next week.’

  Leo didn’t respond – just turned his attention back to the tiny baby cradled in its mother’s arms.

  *

  Angela sat across from Susan in the little office behind the hall, tense with anticipation.

  ‘OK, Angela, I’ve already spoken to your birth mother and set up the meeting
for Thursday evening. I will be there with you, of course.’

  Angela nodded, still trying to process that she would soon come face to face with the woman who gave her up when she was just a few days old. What would she say to her? What would she want to know? How would she feel when she met her? As Angela signed her acceptance on the documents Susan placed in front of her, she hoped her experience would be as heart-warming as Ken’s.

  24

  Wednesday 1 January 1975

  Dear Diary,

  Well, 1975, I hope you’re going to treat me better than 1974. What a joke in this hellhole. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next two years. Maureen and Peter have completely given up trying to escape. But I haven’t. I’m just going to bide my time for a while. In a couple of weeks, I will be 14. I can easily pass for 16 if I do myself up. Mark says he can get me a part-time job, which pays better than shop work. I just need to get a bit of money together and then I can get out of here.

  A.

  Sunday 19 January 1975

  Dear Diary,

  I spent my birthday today smoking pot in the park with Mark. I did chores this morning and then snuck out after lunch. I’ll probably get punished when I get back but who cares? It’s my birthday. Mark said I should take some pot back for Ray. I laughed and told him why would I waste the good stuff on him? Mark said it might soften him up a bit. I told him anything’s worth a try.

  A.

  Tuesday 25 February 1975

  Dear Diary,

  Mark has got me a job interview! It’s on Friday at 9 p.m. It’s at the White Hart pub about ten minutes’ walk from here – luckily not Ray’s local. Mark says I have to dress really nice. The owner, Keith, likes to employ pretty girls. Does that mean Mark thinks I’m pretty? I told him I don’t have any pretty clothes. He told me he would sort it for me.

  A.

  Wednesday 26 February 1975