Read Online Punished: A mother’s cruelty. A daughter’s survival. A secret that couldn’t be told. by Vanessa Steel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vanessa Steel
Ads: Link
next three or four days. Mum watched over me as I got undressed and pulled on a hospital gown then clambered between the sheets. The ward seemed very noisy, with clanking trolleys and metal instruments over the buzz of voices. I could smell boiled cabbage, my least favourite food, which must have been served at lunch that day. It seemed like a bad omen.
I looked up at Mum in terror, desperately seeking reassurance, but instead she folded my clothes into the locker and said ‘I’ll be off, then.’ She left without giving me a kiss, a hug or a kind word. I thought I was being left there for good, that she would never come back, and part of me wished this were the case. Other children had their parents sitting by their bedsides, telling them stories, playing cards, or letting them colour in with crayons. I felt very alone. The nurses were perfectly kind but they were always in a hurry with too much to do.
I have vivid memories of being wheeled down a corridor to the operating theatre and being lifted from the trolley on to a bed. A man in a white coat put a black rubber mask over my nose and mouth and told me to count backwards from ten to one. The sweet smell of gas got stronger and I think I only made it to eight before I conked out.
When I opened my eyes, the light was very bright. I felt thirsty and my throat felt as though it was full of broken glass. I asked a passing nurse if I could have a drink and she said no, that I was to go back to sleep again, but she would bring me something nice later on.
At teatime, when they brought the meals round, I was given jelly and ice cream – a huge treat. Mum never served puddings at home. I’d only had jelly and ice cream acouple of times before at Nan Casey’s house. It hurt to swallow but I could let the ice cream melt in my mouth and trickle down my inflamed throat in a cool stream.
Evening visiting time came and I could see that every other child on the ward had a visitor except me. During my entire stay, neither Mum nor Dad came to visit me. I guessed that Dad must be too busy with work but I still scanned the groups of parents entering the ward as visiting hour began, hoping against hope that he might be there. I didn’t have any books or toys with me but the nurses brought me some picture books to look at.
A few nurses asked where my parents were. Did they live very far away? And I felt embarrassed saying, ‘No, Bentley Heath’, as though I should be apologizing for their non-appearance.
On the day I was discharged I was told to dress myself. Mum and Dad couldn’t pick me up, they’d told the hospital, so I was sent home in an ambulance, which was quite exciting – although I was disappointed they didn’t turn on the siren. Back home, the ambulance man walked me to the front door, which was opened by Mrs Plant, the cleaner.
‘Oh you poor dear,’ she said, throwing her arms around me. ‘What a rough time you’ve had. Come on in and you can lie on the sofa and tell me all about it.’
She was so sweet to me that morning that it almost upset me more, because the contrast was so great between her and my mother. If the hospital stay did nothing else, it gave me a glimpse into how other families lived, and the fact that mine was quite different from other people. This was something I would continue to ponder in the coming years, without having the power to do anything about it.
In my head, the voices were murmuring and I could make out what some of them were saying. They were wondering where my father was and when my mother would be home. I lay and listened to them and wondered what it all meant.
Chapter 10
D uring the school holidays, we were under Mum’s feet again and I could tell she was irked by this. She’d got used to having a bit of freedom from us kids but it had been taken away from her for the next few weeks. She was still working as a dressmaker and often had to travel into Birmingham by train to buy fabric or haberdashery, so over the
I looked up at Mum in terror, desperately seeking reassurance, but instead she folded my clothes into the locker and said ‘I’ll be off, then.’ She left without giving me a kiss, a hug or a kind word. I thought I was being left there for good, that she would never come back, and part of me wished this were the case. Other children had their parents sitting by their bedsides, telling them stories, playing cards, or letting them colour in with crayons. I felt very alone. The nurses were perfectly kind but they were always in a hurry with too much to do.
I have vivid memories of being wheeled down a corridor to the operating theatre and being lifted from the trolley on to a bed. A man in a white coat put a black rubber mask over my nose and mouth and told me to count backwards from ten to one. The sweet smell of gas got stronger and I think I only made it to eight before I conked out.
When I opened my eyes, the light was very bright. I felt thirsty and my throat felt as though it was full of broken glass. I asked a passing nurse if I could have a drink and she said no, that I was to go back to sleep again, but she would bring me something nice later on.
At teatime, when they brought the meals round, I was given jelly and ice cream – a huge treat. Mum never served puddings at home. I’d only had jelly and ice cream acouple of times before at Nan Casey’s house. It hurt to swallow but I could let the ice cream melt in my mouth and trickle down my inflamed throat in a cool stream.
Evening visiting time came and I could see that every other child on the ward had a visitor except me. During my entire stay, neither Mum nor Dad came to visit me. I guessed that Dad must be too busy with work but I still scanned the groups of parents entering the ward as visiting hour began, hoping against hope that he might be there. I didn’t have any books or toys with me but the nurses brought me some picture books to look at.
A few nurses asked where my parents were. Did they live very far away? And I felt embarrassed saying, ‘No, Bentley Heath’, as though I should be apologizing for their non-appearance.
On the day I was discharged I was told to dress myself. Mum and Dad couldn’t pick me up, they’d told the hospital, so I was sent home in an ambulance, which was quite exciting – although I was disappointed they didn’t turn on the siren. Back home, the ambulance man walked me to the front door, which was opened by Mrs Plant, the cleaner.
‘Oh you poor dear,’ she said, throwing her arms around me. ‘What a rough time you’ve had. Come on in and you can lie on the sofa and tell me all about it.’
She was so sweet to me that morning that it almost upset me more, because the contrast was so great between her and my mother. If the hospital stay did nothing else, it gave me a glimpse into how other families lived, and the fact that mine was quite different from other people. This was something I would continue to ponder in the coming years, without having the power to do anything about it.
In my head, the voices were murmuring and I could make out what some of them were saying. They were wondering where my father was and when my mother would be home. I lay and listened to them and wondered what it all meant.
Chapter 10
D uring the school holidays, we were under Mum’s feet again and I could tell she was irked by this. She’d got used to having a bit of freedom from us kids but it had been taken away from her for the next few weeks. She was still working as a dressmaker and often had to travel into Birmingham by train to buy fabric or haberdashery, so over the
Similar Books
