restaurants, days out. Now he was doing all that with Pen, Fred and Felicity, and we were in a tiny, damp shithole in a smelly town with noisy cars right outside the door, and neighbours shouting at their kids and each other. I hated it.
We went to Exeter once a year to stay with them, Dad and Sandra, and Pen and me, we got on like a house on fire, so I always looked forward to the holidays, and Sandra was like Mum used to be, happy, smiley, cooked us dinner, kissed us goodnight. She used to give me six kisses before bed, one on my forehead.” Hope’s finger reiterated her words. “One on each cheek, one on the chin, one on the nose, then one on my lips.”
A light switched off in Hope’s face, a sullen sadness sweeping over her, but no rage, just that odd resigned stance from the week before. It occurred to Dawn that this period of Hope’s life had been so low that she was too tired to have any emotion or anger over it now. “Did you love Sandra? Do you?”
The intense fire returned, burning from the blueness, and Dawn realised she’d surmised the situation too early. The knuckles were white, and the fists clenched, lips curled into a sneer. “Fuck off, did I! I fucking hated her. She stole my Dad. Penelope, Frederick, fucking Felicity. They had my Dad, I had nothing. I had a fucking waster of a mother who drank and smoked away our food money, our clothes money. The fucking house reeked of smoke, choking, it was horrid. She drank vodka from the bottle, all day, every day. You know, I don’t know who it was that fathered Honesty, I’m not sure Mum even knows, she says Sam’s the father, but there was always some new bloke sniffing around, taking her to bed, shagging her noisily so we all had to hold our hands over our ears.”
Dawn needed to calm the situation somehow, she found it difficult to think rationally when the anger was in the room, it was harsh, it hurt, it scared her, no, terrified her. She kept her voice calm, catching the tremor before it left her lips. “Hope, you told me it helped to be the child again. Tell me the story from when you moved to Reading. How old were you?”
Instantly calm, it felt as if the sun was shining in the room, and Dawn gasped lightly, amazed at the transition. How did that happen? “I was seven. Just seven. We moved straight after my birthday. Me, Faith, Charity, none of us knew what was happening, it was all so quick. It was like a rug had been pulled out from under us. We came home from school, the house was empty, Dad and Mum were in a car waiting for us. We thought it was an adventure. Mum had prepared some sandwiches, we ate them in the back while Dad drove, and we thought they’d got back together. We giggled, joked, laughed in the back, while Dad drove and Mum gazed at the fields through the window. We thought it was an adventure.”
The words had tailed off hauntingly, and Dawn needed to prompt them back. “So where were you going then?”
“Reading. The fields stopped and there were lots of houses, the air got thicker, smelly, like I’d never known before. Big buildings, people, cars everywhere, it was horrid, I’d never seen anything like it. Then the car stopped outside a terraced house, it was blackened, the garden was overgrown, and a ‘To Let’ sign waved in the breeze. Stick an ‘I’ in that and that’s exactly the type of shit the house was!” Hope sniggered ironically, then settled once more.
“Mum opened the door, Dad stayed in the car, and then she told us it was our new home. She was smiling like we should be pleased, but fuck off were we! The three of us walked round, taking in the tiny rooms, the tatty furniture. There were three bedrooms. The smallest only had room for a bed and chest of drawers. Charity chose that one. There was only one bed in the next one, Mum said she’d get another but me and Faith would have to share until she could get the money. I still to this day don’t know how our things got over there, but our
We went to Exeter once a year to stay with them, Dad and Sandra, and Pen and me, we got on like a house on fire, so I always looked forward to the holidays, and Sandra was like Mum used to be, happy, smiley, cooked us dinner, kissed us goodnight. She used to give me six kisses before bed, one on my forehead.” Hope’s finger reiterated her words. “One on each cheek, one on the chin, one on the nose, then one on my lips.”
A light switched off in Hope’s face, a sullen sadness sweeping over her, but no rage, just that odd resigned stance from the week before. It occurred to Dawn that this period of Hope’s life had been so low that she was too tired to have any emotion or anger over it now. “Did you love Sandra? Do you?”
The intense fire returned, burning from the blueness, and Dawn realised she’d surmised the situation too early. The knuckles were white, and the fists clenched, lips curled into a sneer. “Fuck off, did I! I fucking hated her. She stole my Dad. Penelope, Frederick, fucking Felicity. They had my Dad, I had nothing. I had a fucking waster of a mother who drank and smoked away our food money, our clothes money. The fucking house reeked of smoke, choking, it was horrid. She drank vodka from the bottle, all day, every day. You know, I don’t know who it was that fathered Honesty, I’m not sure Mum even knows, she says Sam’s the father, but there was always some new bloke sniffing around, taking her to bed, shagging her noisily so we all had to hold our hands over our ears.”
Dawn needed to calm the situation somehow, she found it difficult to think rationally when the anger was in the room, it was harsh, it hurt, it scared her, no, terrified her. She kept her voice calm, catching the tremor before it left her lips. “Hope, you told me it helped to be the child again. Tell me the story from when you moved to Reading. How old were you?”
Instantly calm, it felt as if the sun was shining in the room, and Dawn gasped lightly, amazed at the transition. How did that happen? “I was seven. Just seven. We moved straight after my birthday. Me, Faith, Charity, none of us knew what was happening, it was all so quick. It was like a rug had been pulled out from under us. We came home from school, the house was empty, Dad and Mum were in a car waiting for us. We thought it was an adventure. Mum had prepared some sandwiches, we ate them in the back while Dad drove, and we thought they’d got back together. We giggled, joked, laughed in the back, while Dad drove and Mum gazed at the fields through the window. We thought it was an adventure.”
The words had tailed off hauntingly, and Dawn needed to prompt them back. “So where were you going then?”
“Reading. The fields stopped and there were lots of houses, the air got thicker, smelly, like I’d never known before. Big buildings, people, cars everywhere, it was horrid, I’d never seen anything like it. Then the car stopped outside a terraced house, it was blackened, the garden was overgrown, and a ‘To Let’ sign waved in the breeze. Stick an ‘I’ in that and that’s exactly the type of shit the house was!” Hope sniggered ironically, then settled once more.
“Mum opened the door, Dad stayed in the car, and then she told us it was our new home. She was smiling like we should be pleased, but fuck off were we! The three of us walked round, taking in the tiny rooms, the tatty furniture. There were three bedrooms. The smallest only had room for a bed and chest of drawers. Charity chose that one. There was only one bed in the next one, Mum said she’d get another but me and Faith would have to share until she could get the money. I still to this day don’t know how our things got over there, but our
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