I looked away, p.9
I Looked Away, page 9
‘That one deserves to be the mother – not you,’ said Grandma Greenway to my father’s wife when I was giving Michael his breakfast in the high chair and my stepmother was filing her nails at the kitchen table. ‘The kid could have died if it hadn’t been for Ellie. I’ve told you before. You’ve got to see the doctor about –’
‘Stop your silly ramblings, right now.’ Those two pink spots appeared on her face again just as they always did when she was angry. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother.’
Then she carried on filing her nails. My new mother hadn’t wanted anyone else to touch my little brother in the early days. But since he’d almost choked, she was more than happy for me to look after him. ‘She’s lost her confidence,’ said Grandma Greenway darkly. ‘Now if something goes wrong, she can blame someone else.’
My tenth birthday came and went without much fuss. ‘I’m far too busy to give her a party,’ I overheard my new mother telling my father one evening. That wasn’t fair! I’d be the only one in the class not to have one. Why hadn’t Daddy stuck up for me and insisted? But at least I had Michael. He was the best gift ever.
By the time the daffodils came out again, my little brother had started to walk. This meant I couldn’t take my eyes off him for a minute. He’d lurch from one piece of furniture to another, often falling over and bruising his knee. Then he’d burst into loud tears and my father’s wife, who was usually ‘trying to have a bit of a rest’, would come running in.
‘What have you done to him?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sheila,’ Grandma Greenway would say. ‘Kids are always bumping themselves at that age. If you did your share of watching instead of always sleeping, you’d see that.’
‘Shut up, Mother. Stop criticizing me all the time, otherwise you can go and live somewhere else.’
No! I couldn’t lose Grandma as well. But as she and I agreed, there was no point in arguing. We just had to sit tight and let her rages blow over.
Yet – and I know this sounds dreadful – I sometimes wondered how much easier life would be if my new mother wasn’t here and it was only me and Daddy and Michael and Grandma Greenway …
That woman back in the children’s home was right.
No one wanted to adopt me. When I tried to run away again, I got sent to a stricter place. It had bars on the windows. We had lessons there too but I didn’t pay much attention. All I wanted to do was grow up so I could get out.
And now, at last, I’m eighteen! I can live in a hostel. Do what I like without someone telling me what to do. I get a job in a supermarket, which is great ’cos it means I get a discount on my food bill. But the best thing is that the girls I work with are really friendly.
‘Want to come clubbing with us this Friday?’ they ask.
I don’t tell them I’ve never been into a club before. They might ask questions and I don’t want to tell them about being in care for most of my life. So I splash out my earnings on a sparkly dress and high wedges. ‘Look at you!’ says one of them and then I feel all embarrassed ’cos they’re just wearing jeans.
When we get there, the music is so noisy that I can’t hear what my friends are saying. Then they disappear into the crowd of dancers and I’m left feeling stupid. Maybe I ought to go home. Then this bloke comes up to me. He seems older than most of the boys here but maybe that’s because he’s got a beard and is big without being fat. He has a gold chain round his neck and he’s dressed smartly too, with shoes that gleam in the lights. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he asks.
I don’t tell him that I’m not much of a drinker because you’d really get it if you were caught in the children’s home. So I ask for a gin and tonic as we sell a lot of that in the supermarket. He gets me what he calls a ‘double’. When the last song begins, he pulls me towards him and kisses me. My first time! Some of the boys in the home used to try it on with me but I didn’t fancy them. This one is different. Something inside me knows he’s a man rather than a boy. It scares and excites me.
‘My name’s Barry,’ he says when he finally pulls away.
Barry. I run the name round in my mouth. It sounds friendly.
‘Want to come back to my place?’ he asks, all casual.
‘OK,’ I say, trying to sound cool. The gin and tonic has given me a nice spaced-out feeling.
He has a flat of his own. I wonder how he can afford the rent but then he tells me that he’s an electrician and earns ‘good money’. My heart beats really fast when he starts to undress me. I feel so flattered that he wants someone like me, who’s no one. ‘How did you get these scars?’ he asks when he undoes my bra and sees the marks on my back.
‘My dad,’ I say, like it doesn’t matter. ‘It was a long time ago when I was a child.’
His eyes narrow. I get a scared feeling running down me. ‘Does he still hurt you?’
I shake my head. ‘Haven’t seen him for years.’
‘Well, if I ever meet him, I’ll give him what for.’
Then he runs his hands over my breasts. They’re big hands. Capable, like they can do anything. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he says. ‘Stay with me. I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.’
The next week, I move out of the hostel and into Barry’s place.
If only I’d known then what I do now.
12
Jo
‘GET OFF ME!’ I yell.
I’m thumping my fists against the man’s face. Scratching his cheeks with my fingernails. But he’s wrapping the belt round and round my throat. I splutter. Choke. Gasp. I feel my face going hot and red. I can’t breathe. I smash my head against his chest but it makes a metallic sound as if he isn’t human …
‘Are you all right?’ asks a voice.
It’s a girl with a trolley loaded with drinks and snacks.
My head is resting on the table. It aches. Had I been banging it again? ‘Just having a bad dream,’ I say, feeling silly.
She gives me a nervous smile and moves on. I try to pull myself together. The bloke who’d let me have his sandwich has gone. But there’s a squashed Mars bar underneath his seat which I pocket for later.
Outside there are rows and rows of fields. No shops. There are cows too. Then a terrace of pretty cottages flashes by. What I’d give to live somewhere like that. It must be nice to have a place to call home, with your own front-door key.
I’m bursting for a pee so I walk down the carriage to the toilet, again clutching at the seats to stay upright. Again, folk look away but I smile at them anyway, feeling really smug. I’m in first class. For once in my life, I’m as good as this lot.
There’s a puddle on the floor. Hope the next person won’t think it’s me. I’ve still got my pride.
I wash my hands at one of those clever machines on the wall where you put your hands in and the soap and water come out automatically, followed by the dryer.
Then I stumble my way back to the seat just as the announcement comes: ‘We are now approaching Penzance, where this service will terminate.’ My heart flutters. I’d started to feel safe on the train. But now what?
I walk outside and the wind hits me. I thought it was cold in Bristol, but this is bloody parky. Even though it’s only September, it feels like winter.
I walk up a little slope and then round a corner, past a supermarket. That’s when I see it. The sea. It looks dark and scary. I shiver and force myself to look away.
There’s a bus parked over the road. It says ‘The Lizard’ on the front. What kind of name is that? Still, who cares. I’ve got to get out of here.
I put on my ‘help me’ look for the driver. ‘I’ve gone and lost my bus pass in town. I haven’t got any money for a ticket back home and I don’t know what to do.’
Tears trickle down my cheeks. It’s not hard to make them come.
‘Hop on, love. I shouldn’t do this but I can tell when someone’s in trouble. Just make sure you fill in one of these.’
I don’t like forms. They scare me. ‘What’s this for?’
‘To apply for a new bus pass, love.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
The bus moves. I settle back in my seat. I’ve got enough food for a bit. Now all I have to do is find some shelter for the night.
But then what? I try to ignore that thought and settle down in my seat as the bus speeds up.
Buttercup (Ranunculus)
A flowering plant found in grass and meadowland. Can be poisonous to both humans and animals.
Just because something is pretty, doesn’t mean it’s safe.
13
Ellie
It was two weeks after my eleventh birthday. I’d been allowed to look after my little brother on my own for a bit. It was snowing, so we couldn’t play outside like he wanted. Instead, we were cuddling up together on the window seat in the playroom, which had become our special reading place.
On that day, we were looking at the pictures from a Peter Rabbit book that my father had bought him when Michael suddenly leapt up and ran out of the room.
This wasn’t unusual. He was a lively child and would only sit for a short time. I followed him into the kitchen.
Earlier that day, I’d been helping my new mother to cut up vegetables for lunch. ‘Pass the cruet so we can flavour them,’ instructed my new mother.
‘The what?’ I asked.
Grandma Greenway let out a cackle. ‘Come off it, Sheila. You’re getting too posh for yourself. Just say salt and pepper like the rest of us.’
‘Shut your mouth, Mother.’
I gasped. Once, before Mummy had died, we’d heard someone say that on the street and she’d walked me on briskly, saying that wasn’t the way that nice people spoke.
Now there was no one in the kitchen. A sharp potato knife lay on the table. My brother went straight for it as if he knew it was the one thing he shouldn’t do.
‘Put that down!’ I shouted.
I tried to take it off him but his stubborn little fingers hung on. ‘Michael!’ I shouted. ‘Give it to me.’ I twisted it towards me.
Then he let out a terrible scream.
‘Cut!’ he howled.
‘No you’re not,’ I said, even though I could see it was true. Blood began to drip onto the floor, but he was still hanging on to the knife.
‘Hand it over,’ I snapped and I tried to yank it backwards. It would serve him right if he got hurt now.
Then I heard footsteps running down the stairs. ‘What is going on?’ It was Sheila. ‘Oh my God.’ Her voice rose. ‘Michael, are you all right? What happened?’
‘Ellie.’ Then he pointed at me accusingly.
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ I protested. ‘I was trying to get the knife off him before he got seriously injured. Ouch!’
I gasped as Sheila’s hand lashed my cheek. ‘You wicked, wicked girl.’
She was hysterical, which made my brother scream even more. Someone needed to do something. I went into a sort of remote-control calmness that didn’t reflect the panic inside and rang 999. By the time we got to hospital, blood was everywhere. Michael needed three stitches.
‘How did this happen?’ asked the doctor.
‘My stepdaughter,’ hissed my new mother, pointing at me, ‘stabbed my son.’
I butted in quickly. ‘Nonsense. I was trying to get the potato knife off him. It should never have been left out in the first place.’
‘And whose fault was that?’ Sheila said.
‘Yours,’ I spat back.
‘Stop lying, Ellie.’
‘I’m not!’
But as I spoke, I was aware that my cheeks were burning red with the horror of it all. It made me look guilty, however much I protested.
The doctor gave me a disapproving look. ‘You’re very lucky that your brother wasn’t injured more seriously.’ Then he turned to my new mother. ‘Just make sure you keep an eye on him.’
She was furious all the way home. Strangely, she seemed more upset by the doctor’s words than the cut on Michael’s thumb. ‘He implied it was my fault for not watching my own son. I ought to call the police.’
‘Then why don’t you?’ I retorted.
‘Maybe I will. Let’s see what your father says, shall we?’
I was almost sick with fear, waiting for him to come home. I’d only been trying to stop Michael from hurting himself. Surely my father would believe me.
But when he got in, he didn’t seem convinced. He looked both stern and sad at the same time. ‘I want to believe you, Ellie, but this is serious. Are you jealous of your brother?’
‘No. Of course not. I love him.’
My father sighed. ‘Sheila thinks you cut him on purpose.’
My eyes filled with genuine tears. ‘How could I do something like that?’
I tried to forget how, just for one moment, I’d thought it might serve him right. ‘Just because Michael pointed at me doesn’t mean I did something. He’s a baby, for goodness’ sake.’
I could see I’d hit home there.
Sheila was furious when my father declared that it seemed to have been a ‘bit of a misunderstanding’.
‘Our son needed stitches. Aren’t you going to punish her?’
My father began to stride around the room, hands in his pockets. The corrugated-cardboard lines had sprung up on his forehead again. ‘Very well, then. I’m afraid you can’t have any pocket money for a month, Ellie.’
‘What?’
‘And you can’t go on the school outing either,’ chipped in my new mother.
‘That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think, Sheila? It’s educational.’
‘Then she can’t be allowed to go to that party instead.’
But I’d been looking forward to it for ages! Christine, one of my schoolfriends, had asked everyone in the class. Her mother had known my real mother and was always kind to me.
‘And you can confiscate that music box of hers for a week too, Nigel.’
‘I think that’s unfair, Sheila.’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘You’re not having my music box and that’s the end of it!’ I yelled.
Then I ran up to my room in floods of tears and hid it carefully in the bottom of my chest of drawers. On the way, I passed Grandma Greenway’s room with the television blaring out. The door was ajar. I ran in, hoping for some sympathy. ‘It’s not fair,’ I sobbed, throwing myself on her lap. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt Michael.’
‘Shhh.’ She put her arm round my shoulders. ‘I know you didn’t. But the thing is that my daughter was scared by the doctor.’
‘Why?’
She sighed. ‘It’s complicated. The truth is that my Sheila has always been scared of anyone in authority. You see, the welfare people took her away from me once when she was a toddler, because I couldn’t afford decent lodgings for us both. I had a devil of a job to get her back. After that I was terrified that someone might try to separate us again. And I think I’ve passed on my anxieties to her.’
Then tears started rolling down her plump red-powdered cheek. I’d never seen her cry before.
‘Don’t think too badly of Sheila. She means well.’
No she doesn’t, I told myself. I hated her. If only she’d never married my father! Then everything would be all right. As for calling her ‘Mum’, there was no way I was going to do that any more. She’d only wanted me as a daughter until she had a child of her own. Michael could do no wrong. It wasn’t fair. Inside, a slow angry resentment began to burn …
Not long after that, my brother fell out of his high chair when I was giving him his tea and had forgotten to strap him in. I’d only turned my back for a second but it was enough. He knocked his head on the corner of the table. I waited for him to cry but it was as though he had sucked in his breath and was holding it. Then his eyes seemed to go up to the ceiling and he went all floppy.
I kept shaking him, shouting out his name. Then a big bump sprang up on his head. Sheila came in and began to scream.
Forcing myself to stay calm like the last time, I dialled 999 for an ambulance but when we got to the hospital, Michael started running round like nothing had happened. The doctor said it was mild concussion but he wanted to know who had been looking after him.
Michael was too young to explain what had happened, of course. And – guess what – I got blamed again.
This time my stepmother did take away my music box. Not just for one week but for two.
‘I hate you!’ I shouted at her.
‘Ellie, go to your room.’ I’d never heard my father so angry.
‘Don’t you think you’ve overstepped the mark there, Sheila?’ I heard Grandma Greenway saying as I went miserably up the stairs. ‘The poor kid’s mother gave that music box to her. It’s downright cruel, taking it away. Besides, we don’t really know what happened. Your Michael might be young but he likes to get his own way.’
‘How dare you speak about your own grandson like that,’ hissed my stepmother. ‘Anyway, you’re a fine one to dish out advice. It’s amazing I’m still normal with the childhood you gave me.’
‘But that’s just it, love. Your head is all over the place. You can’t pin your troubles solely on me. Maybe you should get some proper help from the doctor –’
‘Get out of my sight.’
‘Sheila!’
This was my father.
Then someone shut the sitting-room door. But I could still hear furious voices rising up from below.
That night, I cried myself to sleep. How could Daddy have let my stepmother take the music box away? He knew what it meant to me. It felt like it wasn’t me and him any more. But him and her.
When I was finally allowed to have it back, there was a scratch on the side that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t say anything. What was the point?
