Chapter 3

“Alaaaaan�?My feet hurt!�?I whinged. He swept me up in his arms and put me on his shoulders - now that’s transport in style, I thought.

Alan was a friend of my Mum’s from work and he’d come with the family to the local fair which visited our town every year. It’d been a sweltering day so we all decided to make the trek back to my Grandma’s because it was less of a trek to her house than it was to my Auntie Susan’s or ours�? Everyone in front dragged themselves up the hill, passed a café, the limo hire shop, Kwik Save and the doctors surgery. I, on the other hand, just took in the view from six foot off the floor!

I wrapped my sandaled feet around Alan’s neck, once again chattering away happily to anyone who was prepared to listen, whilst playing with his ears and ruffling his soft, short hair. It felt like hedgehog spikes on my palms, but tickled at the same time. Alan was a tall, average looking man with a big, slightly yellow smile, who seemed besotted with my Mum, regardless of the fact that she’d only been separated from my Dad for a few months. He’d already asked the three of us to move in with him, in the house that he’d bought on the next street from us just so he could be close to her. But Mum turned him down - said that she wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship yet, which was understandable and that she wouldn’t move in with anyone again unless marriage and commitment seemed a possibility. She wanted my Sister and I to have a stable upbringing from now on.

We reached the church on the corner of the road. I think everyone found the flat ground bliss! Laura and my cousin Carla, who were both three years older than me ran on in front, stopping at the huge secondary school and leisure complex just up the street, waiting for everyone else to catch up.

“Come on sl�?�?Carla yelled back.

She was meant to say “Come on slow coaches!�?but her words were cut short by the screeching of tyres and the squealing of breaks as a red van raced round the bend, almost swerving onto the pavement. Everybody froze. My Dad flung the door open and leapt out of the driver’s seat leaving the engine still running. His face burned with anger, vile words already escaping from his mouth . My instant reaction was to cry.

He approached Alan and grabbed me from his shoulders, spitting, “what the **** do you think you’re doing with my Daughter?!�?/P>

My body turned rigid with fear. I didn’t put my arms round his neck - that way he had to put me on the floor, otherwise I’d fall. I knew he wasn’t doing this out of love for me, he didn’t see Alan as a threat and he knew he wouldn’t hurt me, he just wanted control as always. He did put me on the floor and I ran, clutching my Mum’s legs. If he was going to hurt her, he’d have to hurt me first, I thought.

I stood there shaking, my whole body trembling as though my bones had given up, tears streaming down my face. How many times was he going to do this? Why was he doing this?

My Mum was trying to talk to him, asking him to calm down because he was scaring us but he carried on screaming in her face. Laura and Carla had the same idea as me, clung to the nearest adult, who happened to be my Auntie Susan. He wasn’t listening. As usual, everything had to be shouted and that’s all I heard - I didn’t hear what they were saying, just shouting, just voices. Once again I reverted back into my own world of fear. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, stamp my feet, scream till my ribs cracked and my face turned blue.

My memory went blank after that moment. The next thing I remember was being sat on a wall, watching my knee shake but not being able to stop it. Laura and Carla were next to me and Auntie Susan was stood in front of us, saying that everything would be ok. Mum wouldn’t get hurt this time. I could still hear my Dad’s abrasive voice, along with Alan’s, my Mum’s and my Grandma’s, but it was quieter now, quiet enough to try and block it out.

All I could ask was, “What’s going to happen?�?The reassurance Auntie Sue was trying to give just didn’t work. I had learnt by now that something always happened with my Dad and I knew my question would be answered, soon enough and it was.

I listened. I listened again, just to make sure that what I was hearing was real. The whirling of police sirens filled the air, filled my head. “What has he done??�?I bawled. “What has he done Auntie Sue?�?I want my Mum!�?Panic set in and I cried harder. I kept telling myself what Auntie Sue had said. It will be ok. It has to be. I went completely numb as I saw a uniformed policeman approaching. He was speaking, I watched his lips move but I couldn’t hear him. I had closed myself off to everything around me.

The memory of anything more has been lost.

I later discovered that my Dad didn’t actually do anything that night - the police were called by a group of boys walking past, which probably saved the situation from escalating into something much worse. My Dad wasn’t arrested for the behaviour he displayed either, only cautioned. If he had have been, perhaps we would have been saved from more torture and heartache. I questioned how much more of this I could take. A question never listened to, or answered.