Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [16]
Fair enough, I thought. After a day of mooching around the flat she’d be raring to go tomorrow. We could have our fun together then.
Wrong.
Tuesday was another bed day. Once again, the only things that could entice Mum up were tea breaks, loo stops and the lure of another cigarette. Food seemed to pass her by. It would have passed me by as well if it had been up to her. I managed to open a tin of baked beans and heated those. Obviously I offered Mum the same.
‘No thanks, darling,’ she smiled, lighting another cigarette. ‘I’m all right here.’ Mum had always smoked. Now, though, her cigarettes smelled very sweet, like herbs.
Quite a lot of our time together ended up with me playing nurse and waitress to Mum, although she never actually asked me for anything. Not a drink or medicine or even to pass her matches. That didn’t stop me offering, though. I was desperate to do something for her. But she always waved my offers away with a smile. Then I’d climb onto the bed with her and she’d fall asleep. I’d never had a doll of my own to look after, but I imagined this was what it must be like.
Writing this down, it sounds like a pretty horrendous life, but I can’t tell you how happy I was. I didn’t care that Mum wanted to mope around the flat in a fug of smoke. If I’d had my way, I would have sat on her desk at American Express. Just being with her was all I ever wanted. It’s what I still want today.
So anything she did, I didn’t judge. Anything she said, anywhere she went, anyone she spoke to – it was all fine by me. Me and Mum, the old team, were back together. I really couldn’t have been happier.
Having Mum around during the week meant I didn’t mind so much when she went out in the evenings. Without work the next day, however, she wasn’t just limited to Fridays and Saturdays. It might be a Wednesday one week, or Monday, Thursday – you name it. There was no pattern that I could see. She would just announce she was going out, then Granny or Grandpa would arrive to pick me up or we’d catch a bus to their bungalow in Tremola Avenue. I didn’t know who Mum went out with or where to, but I do know it always ended the same way: Granny would take me home the following morning and tut-tut as a bleary-eyed Mum let us in, while I would give her the biggest hug I could muster and skip happily indoors, calling out, ‘Bye, Granny, see you later’ as I disappeared into the small lounge.
I was aware of Granny’s attitude towards Mum’s partying, but not affected by it. She certainly never criticized her daughter in front of me. All my life Granny had been stern, if loving, so her attitude didn’t particularly stand out, just as any change in Mum’s behaviour didn’t really register on my radar. To me, she was just Mum being Mum. Whatever she did was ‘normal’ for us. There was no need for explanation. That was who she was, that was how she was. I didn’t care. I loved her every which way. I was every inch the doting daughter. I completely trusted her judgements – as hard as it sometimes was.
I don’t remember what day it was or whether it was morning, noon or night. But I do remember Mum was smoking as usual and I was teasing the cat with a ball of string. I was blissfully happy, actually. Nothing could spoil my day. The voices at the front door soon put a stop to that.
Suddenly there was a ferocious knocking and a deep, loud voice called out, ‘Police. Open up!’
I’d never seen Mum move so fast! She came flying out of her chair and dived into the small bathroom. A few seconds later she emerged, no longer smoking. Then she grabbed something from her pocket and thrust it into my hands. It was some sort of plastic package.
‘Put it in the panda!’ she hissed through gritted teeth. Her eyes were wide. She was obviously terrified about something.
I was too stunned to move. Realizing Mum was scared was like a kick in the stomach.
That’s not how it’s meant to be.
‘Put it in the panda!’ she said again, and this time shoved me towards the