So did you ever tell anyone? Did anyone know? He shakes his head.
I never told and no one ever walked in but, that in itself, considering how long she was very careful though, about the pretence. Always Morning love! like nothing had happened. Never asked about the burn marks or mentioned the throwing up. No one did. Towards the end though, the stepfather’d sometimes shout through my door Get out of his room, he’s too old for that now. Or make jokes about her being cracked because of all the pills and we’d laugh about that, me and him. But I don’t think he really knew and I probably wouldn’t have wanted him to. Either way, when I left I never saw him again.
More wine? and he stands up without looking at me. Yes please. So he goes to the fridge. Gets another bottle. Opens. Fills my glass. Fills his own then sits back opposite. And when did you? I say.
By the time I was fifteen it was very bad, so I wrote to my father — he was in Newcastle by then — asking if he’d put me up until I got a job and a place. Only fucking thing I’d ever asked. Three months I waited for his reply. Barely legible when it arrived and full with fine phrases about the responsibilities of fatherhood he’d obviously nicked from something he hadn’t understood. The gist of it being Of course I could but — unfortunately — I could not. I was so desperate by then though I decided to hitch up. He didn’t recognise me at the door and, when I explained who I was, he nearly had a stroke. Fucker wouldn’t even ask me in, said his marriage was hanging by a thread and I was old enough to take care of myself. I begged him but he wouldn’t. In the end I said Please don’t make me go back, she’s fucking doing things to me. He just hit me a slap and said Don’t be such a pervert! then slammed the door in my face. I didn’t know what to do so I hitched back again in the dark and let me tell you, that was one long fucking night.
She was pretty hysterical when I got in. Been up all night. Called the police. The stepfather had already gone to work so it was only her and the other two, hiding in their room. I didn’t want to say where I’d been but she kept on and on so, eventually, I just said I went to see my dad. I had to but, even as I was, I knew what came next would be well
She went completely off her head. Shouting how I’d betrayed her. Was an ungrateful piece of shit and just like him, slinking off into the night. That she wished she’d never had me. That I’d ruined her life. None of which was unexpected but then I realised she was only working up. And my heart just started to pound. Then it really began. Throwing things first. From the sideboard. Plates. Cups. Screaming You’re in for a hiding, my boy, you’ll never forget. And I thought Alright, get on with it. You can take it, whatever it is. So I leaned against the table, like she said — arms out to support myself and I was prepared for a lot. I had faith in my pain threshold. It had always stood me in good stead before but this time she told me to pull my shirt up then she beat me with the buckle end of the stepfather’s belt hard as she could again and again I thought I was going to pass out and she just kept on and probably would’ve but I couldn’t I couldn’t manage the pain. It got so bad I couldn’t move and then there was all this mystery blood so I stopped her I turned I took it away. She went for me then, like a wild animal really, and I was so panicked I could hardly defend myself. When she said Get upstairs, it was a relief. I don’t even remember how I did but then she followed me up. The other two must’ve been listening because when she called them out they wouldn’t come. So she went in and belted them out of the room. I want you to watch this, she said A lesson about what ingratitude gets. Then she started ripping my clothes, destroying my things — not that there was much but Where can you go if you’re naked, son? Why didn’t I get rid of you at the start and have a life of my own? And me just going I’m sorry Mum, please don’t. But she wouldn’t just fucking out of control. Whacking me round the head with bits of books. Blood pouring out my nose. I couldn’t even see my back but when the younger two did they started screaming with fright so then she started really knocking them round. That’s what finally woke me up. I knew I had to do something before she killed one of us. So I got hold of her, best I could, and half dragged, half carried her back to her room. Her thrashing about, screeching Don’t you touch your mother! Fucking biting but I didn’t notice that until later. All I could think of was shutting her in and I only managed to, just. Stood there holding the door handle begging Lie down Mum. Please Mum. Please take one of your pills. Which she must’ve done because, after a while, the ranting died down and when I let go, the door stayed shut. Then everything went quiet and we went down to the sitting room.
I remember mopping the boys up. At some point making them lunch — meat paste sandwiches as I recall — but having no real thoughts, which must’ve been the shock. Then I remember just being sat forward on the couch hoping my back would scab soon. When the stepfather came home he couldn’t believe the state of the place, or me — bite marks all down my arm and neck. Bloodstains from my back on the leatherette and no energy for pretending left. When he asked Where’re your brothers? I just pointed up. And he raced up the stairs, of course he did. There was a bit of consoling, then he went in to her and What the fuck did you do? You know, usually, if he put his foot down that was it. But not that night. She went for him — which must’ve been quite a surprise. He certainly looked pretty alarmed, coming back down, mumbling I don’t think your mother’s very well like that was fucking news. Anyway, she passed out again then he went out for fish and chips.
Luckily when she came round the next day she was calm. Spent it in bed. Darkened room, all that. The following day she materialised at breakfast, apologising Poor little boys. Mummy’s just had a bad turn. Promised to see the doctor about her nerves. But to me Go to your room. I’ll speak to you later young man.
She got him to take them to the pictures, to make it up. I had to stay in because well I couldn’t go out looking like that. And she waited until they had before coming up for me.
I listened to every step. I knew it would be bad. But it was still daylight so I kept hoping for a yelling at Of course it wasn’t that it was the other thing. And she took the blanket off so there’d be no mistake. The fucking fear of it. Lying there. Waiting. I didn’t want to but I was already half wrecked and she already knew how to make me go against myself. And she was so she had no knickers on when she got on me and I He dry retches into his hand but when I waves me back Will you let me? if you can? I’ve never told anyone and I I say Alright.