Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [113]
Our next home was in Chichester Road, in the north end. On paper, it didn’t sound much of an improvement, but it really was, not only because the shared bathroom and kitchen were really clean this time. The building was a normal two-storey house, with three bedrooms. Our two you accessed by turning left at the top of the stairs and the other one by turning right. So even though I had to cross the corridor to reach my other room, there was no one else up that end of the house, so it felt private. As for the rooms themselves, the smaller one was large enough for two single beds, which meant neither of us had to sleep in the living quarters for once. The other room was even better because not only was it large, with an almost floor-to-ceiling window, but it had also previously been used as a bedsit, so it had a work unit with a sink and places for a fridge and micro wave. You can tell I didn’t have the highest expectations, but it was a palace to us.
We’d been there a few days when I received a letter Peter had sent to Granny’s address. He basically apologized and asked to see Daniel again. ‘Call me,’ the letter said.
No way, I thought, and threw it straight into the bin.
Unfortunately, that was not the end of the story. At some point in the night, my conscience got the better of me. I found myself lying in bed, going over and over how I’d promised my son would know his father. Of course, there were arguments against it – the kidnapping, the threats, the beatings – but these had all been against me. Peter had never actually hurt Daniel. On the contrary, he’d been a good father since we’d separated. And just because I didn’t want him in my life, I shouldn’t prevent Daniel having that opportunity. He could make up his own mind when he was older, but it was my responsibility to do the right thing for now.
It wasn’t an easy decision, but the next morning I retrieved the letter from the bin and called Peter. I could tell he was happy, so I tested him.
‘I need a favour,’ I said.
‘You name it.’
‘I want my fridge, tumble dryer and microwave.’ I’d paid for all the white goods at Bathgate from my tea shop profits. It was only fair that I had them now.
There was a pause. Then, ‘I’ll bring them down tomorrow.’
For once, he was as good as his word. There was a moment just before he pulled up when I worried that he’d brought a weapon to get his revenge, but I honestly didn’t think so. He was so desperate to get us all back together again, he wouldn’t do that. And, I thought, he’d seen the size of the bailiffs at my disposal.
Granny told me I was stupid to let him back into Daniel’s life, but I ignored her. When Daniel looked pleased to see his dad, I knew I’d done the right thing.
While Peter lugged my furniture into the room, I happened to mention how nice it would be if there were a door across our corridor.
‘Then my two rooms would feel joined, like a flat.’
He thought that was a great idea.
‘I’ll get the door for you,’ he offered. ‘I’ve got the van.’
So off he went and, for the second time in two days, I scratched my head. Why is he being so nice?
The surprises continued. When Peter returned, he had a really heavy door and frame.
‘That doesn’t look cheap,’ I said, worried about paying him back.
‘It wasn’t cheap, but don’t worry. It’s a fire door. This baby will give you thirty minutes of protection. I can’t have my family at risk, can I?’
Half an hour later, he’d got tools from somewhere and was drilling and banging and sawing to install my new door and its frame. Inspired by his work, I took Daniel out to a DIY shop and then I painted the whole corridor a vivid, rich burgundy – the same colour I still paint everything! It was a really enjoyable day. Daniel scampered around happily, I got to indulge in my love of painting and Peter went hours without once asking me to move back in with him.
By nine o’clock we were all done and I