Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [42]
As arguments go, that was pretty persuasive.
As much as I resented being made to go to primary school every day, I soon began to enjoy the order of the day. First thing, I’d make breakfast and take Mum hers. Then off to school. It didn’t take long to find some other local kids to walk with and the journeys passed in no time. I was having so much fun one morning that I was nearly run over by a Mini. I tripped crossing the road and, when I saw this car hurtle towards me, I really thought that was the end. There was a squeal of brakes, just like in films, and a smell of rubber. In the end, it skidded to a halt inches from my body. My legs were like jelly for the rest of the day.
Then, after school, it was home again to cook some tea for me and, if she was there, Mum. But as soon as I started school I noticed Mum began to be around less and less during the day. And, as was so often the case with her, an afternoon would quickly turn into an evening, and perhaps longer.
On the days when Mum wasn’t in, I just turned back round again and went out to play. It didn’t bother me. How many other kids had that choice? Even though I was new to the area, I always found someone to mess around with. That was never a problem. Of course, you didn’t always know what they were really like. One day a couple of us climbed a wall. It was about double my height, so probably around six foot. I was sitting up there, like the king of the castle, when I got shoved in the ribs and suddenly I was plummeting towards the ground. I put my arms out, but my nose got a taste of the pavement. I remember being in agony. It was the most pain I’d ever experienced. I was sure it was broken. I started running back home, but the pain was so bad I could barely see. Blood was streaming down my hands as I tried to stem the flow. Worst of all, in all the chaos, I clean forgot I was returning to an empty flat.
We had no first aid kit, no TCP, not even plasters. All I could do was stuff toilet paper up my nose and curl up on the sofa to cry until the pain subsided. Then I got up and dared to look in the mirror. Nothing looked out of place, nothing was broken. It was over.
I wished Mum had been there, but not because of any medical need. She wouldn’t have known what to do any more than I did. I was comfortable with that. Something else that was normal. A hug would have been nice though.
Not having a parent around to look after me was so second nature that I never questioned it. I didn’t even query why Mum was spending so much time away from our lovely flat. She’d always come and gone as she pleased. That was how I expected her to behave. While she was away I’d cook, sometimes even attempt to bake a treat for her. Then I’d sit in the lounge or in the bedroom, staying awake as long as possible after a hard day at school, playing with Mushka or just singing along to records. I’d found the David Soul album that included ‘Don’t Give Up On Us’ in Mum’s collection and that was on repeat for as long as I was alone in the flat. Again, how many kids had that freedom?
When Mum came home, it was action stations. Not from her – whether it was morning or night, she usually returned looking completely vacant. She always reminded me of Brian staggering and stumbling up the hill to the rockery. The only difference was that she was lovely, so very lovely, and he really wasn’t.
There would follow a day of recuperation. Sometimes sleep would be enough, sometimes she’d eat. If I presented her with a cake she always made an effort to eat it. Often, though, she was too ill. I hated seeing Mum too sick to make it to the toilet in time. At least I could clear up after her, make her as comfortable as possible. As long as I could be useful, I was content.
Looking back, it was all upside-down, wasn’t it? For a moment, when I’d fallen off that wall, I’d been a normal eight-year-old girl in search of parental aid. When I hadn’t found it, I’d reverted back to my default position – of looking after my own dependant instead. Mum was the child, I was the adult. It was all wrong.