Chapter 7

Chapter 1

My father always used to say 'all good things come to those that wait'.  I often thought this was him being his normal pompous self but, as time went on, I believed what he said to be true.   I think if you are patient enough and wait....life can unfold just the way you want it to.  If you believe enough.......people get what they deserve, justice is served and those that are harmed are finally set free.

This is the story of my life. It’s the story of a young girl who went from doing what she was told to please others to doing what she wanted to please herself. It’s about breaking free from the cruelty of someone who should have loved me unconditionally to finding love in the arms of someone I loved unconditionally and who loved me back the same.

Where should I start?  If I remember rightly I could start from when I was just ten.  I had a massive crush on James Silver or 'Jimmy Quicksilver' as everyone used to call him because he was the fastest swimmer at school. Three months older than me, Jimmy had moved into the neighbourhood just after the start of the new school year.  His father owned and ran the local newspaper on the other side of Marston Hill, our small town.  Everyone bought their paper from Jimmy's dad because he was honest and wrote fantastic stories true to life.  Jimmy was not really a writer like his dad, but more a hero at sports.  When we were older he came first in every race at school and all the girls swooned over him because of it.   They would watch his races, leave him messages under his desk to meet him after school, and put lip gloss on every time they saw him come around the corner.   God he was like ice cream.  You could just eat him up.  His hair was golden and soft like soft ice cream on a cone.  You could lick his face right off.

The trouble was Jimmy never noticed me at all even though I sat right next to him in class. I felt absolutely invisible even then and that was the start of my journey.  I felt like clouds had hidden me and I was waiting to finally get noticed or picked up by anyone that would have me.  I may have been the only Asian girl in the class, but still I always felt invisible as a child. As the youngest daughter of two Indian Mauritians, I was conscious of standing out from the porcelain whiteness of the other children in my class. I felt like the freaky swan in the Ugly Duckling fairytale. I hated the tar black hue of my hair and the way that it had no shine or bounce like the other girls in my class. Worse still was my hair style. In the mistaken belief that she knew how to cut hair, my mother had given me a highly-distinctive angular hairdo that looked like it was shaped using a ruler and set-square. My older sister, who was old enough and lucky enough to afford to get hers done professionally, was always teasing me about it, calling it the ‘square-cut’ or ‘square-do’. I hated it. It just stuck to the sides of my face constantly.

Other than my eyes, which were large and round, my only other asset was my name, Sky.

Though I didn’t realise it at the time, me being given that name was the first open act of my rebellion by my mother against my domineering father. He had wanted to call me Viyona, the Indian word for sky, but she had resisted. “This is England. She will grow up to go to an English school and be friends with English people. We should call her by an English name. I like ‘Sky’” My mother got her wish, mainly thanks to the presence of the stern English midwife who had rebuked my father when he had started to protest. But it was to be one of a catalogue of grudges that he was to hold against her for the rest of their married life.

The act that was finally to get me noticed started innocently enough. As on any other day, I had reached up to the tall shelf to fetch my lunchbox, containing the standard curious mix of samosa, crisps, Mars bar and lychees. Unbeknownst to me was that someone had also put a tub of red paint next to it – whether this was deliberate or accidental, I was never to find out. Either way, as I started to bring down my lunchbox, the tub of paint came with it.

As it sailed through the air, the lid somehow came off and the tub upended, dispensing almost of its contents in a scarlet torrent onto my head. Everyone laughed, like it was the most hysterical thing they’d ever seen. I daresay that I’d have found it hilarious too had it happened to someone else. As it was, it had happened to me. And I was mortified. My hair was covered in bright red poster paint, almost the same colour as my face, which burned with sheer embarrassment under the dark colour of my skin, turning it darker still. I tried desperately to hold onto my dignity, using all my courage as a dam to hold back the flood of tears that I could feel welling up, as I held my head up and half walked, half ran to the toilets, leaving a trail of red paint behind me. Once I was sure no-one could see me, I let down my guard, allowing the tears to roll freely down my cheeks as I tried desperately to wash the red streaks out of my skin and hair. As I fought to remove the paint and return to somewhere nearer my normal shade, I heard someone walk in behind me.  Looking into the mirror, it was then that I saw him, standing there just watching me.  Jimmy Ice-cream himself.  He smirked and took some paper towels from the cupboard to pass over to me.

"I followed the paint trail,” he said by way of explanation of how he’d found me. “You look like a traffic light by the way," he quipped, grinning at me, "Look, look right there."

As he pointed to the mirror in front of me, I noticed the reflection of a red, yellow and green glow bouncing off the mirror.  My yellow blouse and green skirt.  Oh, what a sight.  In spite of myself, I burst into a fit of giggles.  Jimmy then proceeded to help me wash my hair by stroking in hand soap and making bubbles float off the top of my face.

"You're crazy!  Mr Farrell is going to see us in a minute," I remarked and wiped off the most obvious of the traces of paint that I could see that were left.  I looked back at him and smiled with relief that he had come to help me.  Jimmy picked up my lunch box and motioned towards the door.  "Come on, let's go and have lunch.  You can share mine. I think yours is dripping in paint now. Unless maybe you fancy some soggy samosas?". I could have done without him mocking me but the truth was I was so glad he had finally noticed me. Wow....Jimmy Ice cream and I finally had a moment.

I did feel like a traffic light that day.  I figured I just wanted to be in the green zone though with Jimmy Ice cream going full steam ahead.  Somehow being with him had turned around the whole humiliation of the paint episode. Rather than the girl who had been covered in red paint, I was now the red-tinged girl who was getting attention from Jimmy Quicksilver. I loved the envious looks that the other girls were giving me and it finally felt like I could be myself for a while.  

From that day on we spent days together after school chasing rabbits and deer around the field near where we lived.  How I looked forward to the end of each school day. I would walk home and Jimmy would catch up five minutes later, always with something new to show me.  He was supposed to be helping his dad in the newspaper office making deliveries to local houses in the village, but he didn't seem to care and so I didn't either. In fact, thanks to my new found friendship with Jimmy, I didn’t care about much at all. I felt like the clouds that had hidden me had finally cleared.

Despite my strict upbringing, I still managed to see Jimmy even during the summer holidays, though nowhere near as often as I would have liked. Seeing him meant I had to concoct a complete list of workable excuses, which I used in rotation in order to avoid being caught out. It was the first time in my life I had ever tricked my parents – and I have to admit I was rather good at it.

On one warm sunny afternoon, which my parents thought I was spending in the local library (workable excuse number 7), Jimmy and I decided to walk down to the nearby stream and collect pebbles. It had been my idea as I knew it would be our last time to see each other before the new term.  Jimmy brought towels and I took a soft blanket in a basket with some left over cake my mother had bought.  We sat under an oak tree and watched the crystal clear water running over the rocks and imagined what it would be like to swim in the stream.  Jimmy got up, slipped off his boots and walked towards the edge of where the water flowed. As he reached it, he bent down and put his hand into the water.  Then looking back at me, he beckoned me to come over. "Come on Sky, let's take a dip".  I sat bolt upright the minute I heard his words.  What was he thinking?  Did he really think I was going to swim in there with him?  I was not scared, but I was not brave enough either. What if someone saw us? What would my father say?

Thinking fast, I made the easiest excuse.  "It's getting late Jimmy, your dad's going to wonder where you are, and I've got to get back... and.." Jimmy just looked disappointed.

"No one's going to see us Sky, it's ok.  I'll be here to save you.  I'm your hero remember. Traffic Light." He gave a big smile that just warmed me. In fact, it warmed me so much that I ran over to the edge and kicked off my sandals.  Jimmy laughed and started to take his shorts and T shirt off.  He turned to me and looked right into my eyes. For the first time ever, and for reasons I didn’t then understand, I felt goosebumps all over my body at the sight of a boy.  I knew what he was expecting, but I froze, unable to do anything but just look at him.  Jimmy bent down and pulled my dress up over my head and dropped it on the ground.  We both stood there in just our underwear and suddenly burst out laughing.

That day I felt so alive as my body glistened in the water. I had never been a great swimmer but Jimmy taught me how to improve my technique and for some reason it just came so easily.  He held me from beneath the surface so I felt safe, so much so that we stayed till very late. The summer evening sky had cast a deep blue shadow over both our bodies. The temperature had dropped and we were suddenly cold but felt wonderfully free. We ran out of the stream and lay on the blanket to dry ourselves.  I was shivering but not from the cold, rather just from being alone with Jimmy.  Before we knew it, we were dressed and ready to head home but, as I gathered the blanket, Jimmy reached to stop me.  

He took the blanket and gathered it around me tightly.  "There Sky, you'll be lovely and warm now." He smiled awkwardly, but did not want to show he cared.  Jimmy looked beautiful when he smiled.  I could see my reflection in his clear blue eyes smiling back at him.  "I'm going to take you out again and again till you learn how to swim like a dolphin." Jimmy was determined.  "Can't have them still making fun of you at school now can we?". I stopped. With that one statement, he had just picked up the most perfect afternoon of my life and shattered it into a million knife-shaped pieces, each of which felt like they had pierced my heart. Oblivious to the impact of what he had just said, Jimmy carried on walking ahead of me. What did he mean by that?  Was he embarrassed by me?  Did he really think that everyone laughed at me all of the time?  I caught up with him. He turned and smiled at me, but his smile quickly faded as he saw the look on my face. 

"Don't tell me you're only doing this because you feel sorry for me?  I never asked you for your help, remember!", I exclaimed. My heart sank at Jimmy’s reply. "Listen, we've got two swimming galas coming up ok?  Farrell's going to pick some of us and I don't think you're going to stand a chance if you don't practice.  Don't get uptight about it Sky, it's cool." He suddenly seemed over-confident, a different side of Jimmy that I decided I just did not like.  I could not work out whether he cared or he just wanted to show he was better than me, in the same way my father had always done with my mother. I thought I would let him off because the day had been so wonderful and I wanted nothing to spoil it.  " ....erm well ok, but I can swim ok and I'm not really sure I want to compete anyway. I'm not into competitions and all that stuff.  And besides I've got a verruca!!!!"  I laughed. Jimmy knew I was exaggerating and just carried on walking ahead shaking his head from side to side, amused by me.

The remaining days of summer soon passed by, giving way to autumn.  Jimmy Ice cream and I had spent every possible moment together, going from lessons to break-time, then home again.  We waited anxiously for the days to pass at school so we could run out of the big white gate and head towards the stream.  Even though the water was colder than it had been in the hot days of summer, my swimming had improved as each day passed, just like he promised.  Everyday my movement was faster and more elegant in the water and my breathing was better.  It was all because of Jimmy. All because he believed in me.  I will always cherish those days - they were a wonderful memory.  Then suddenly the memory was shattered.

I remember it being the day before the first gala.  We both knew we wanted to practice more so we skipped our last science lesson and quietly left through a side entrance of the school.  No one caught us.  We were lucky that day.  I took extra snacks with me knowing we might stay out longer than usual. Whilst I was sick of them, Jimmy had acquired a taste for my samosas, and I was only too glad to share them with him. Added to these was an extra packet of crisps I had managed to sneak out of the house and a bag of sweets which my mother had bought me. When we got to the stream, I started to undress but Jimmy just stood there and watched me.  He walked over to the edge of the water and just sat on the rocks.  Normally he would strip off and get straight in but this time he just sat there and gazed across the stream, a strange look on his face.  

Why did he look sad?  Although he was there with me it felt like he was miles away.  Grabbing the towel and wrapping it around me, I joined him by the rocks.  "What's up?  This isn't like you," I questioned, hoping he would come round and start acting like Jimmy again.  "I'm ok Sky, you go and have a good swim.  Tomorrow you can show them all what you're made of. Super Sky."  But his words were lifeless.  Sitting by the side of him, I rested my head on his shoulder.  He was my buddy.  I needed to know what was wrong.  "Does that mean you're not swimming tomorrow?  After all this training!  You can't give up now.  I'm not doing this race without you so you needn't think you'll be backing out now!" and with that I tapped his back.  He bolted upright and jerked away from me. "Oi!" he spat, "I said I'm not swimming!  Take the hint!  I'm not bloody doing it!  You'll be fine.  You're gonna have to try and cope without me sometime Sky.  I can't keep holding your hand for fuck’s sake!"  He paced up and down shouting at me.

I had never heard Jimmy act like this in all the time we had spent together. He was always so calm but this time his mind was elsewhere and he spoke with an anger that I had never seen from him and I could not understand. I had never heard him swear before, and certainly never at me. I watched him as he folded his arms tight to stop his hands from shaking.  Why were they shaking so much?  What was he scared of?  "I'm not going away until you tell me what's up.  It's me, Jimmy, me !"  I went back over to the pile of clothes on the blanket and started to get dressed.  There was no response from Jimmy so I turned to head back home, but as I did I noticed him starting to take his shirt off.  He pulled one half of the shirt off his shoulder so I could see the deep welts that covered his back.  There must have been more than twenty long scarlet marks from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his spine.  I was horrified.  More than horrified, I was so disturbed and almost wanted to vomit at the site of it.  How could this be and how could he not have told me till now.   I bit my lip, wondering what on earth to say.  What could I say to make him feel better.

“Jimmy, I….” I wanted to comfort him. To let him know that whatever had happened to him, I was there for him. But the words didn’t come. Instead, a tear rolled down my cheek.

Jimmy did not cry.  He did not whimper at all.  He looked down to the ground, avoiding eye contact with me.  I just wanted to run up and hold him tight, make him realise that he was not alone.  I walked towards him and put my hand on his shoulder, being careful not to touch the livid red scars that criss-crossed his skin, each a telling trail of pain and humiliation.  "How?" was all I could ask.  He finally looked up at me and put on a brave smile.  There was so much sadness behind it.

"It doesn't matter how, I just wanted you to know I can't swim for the gala." He slowly put his shirt back on and winced in pain as the shirt rubbed against his back.

"But you can't show me this and not tell me,"  I said frankly.

"There's nothing to tell" he murmured.

"Nothing you want to tell"

"What do you want me to say?" he raised his voice abruptly and began walking away.

".....THE TRUTH!!" I yelled back at him, picking up my towel and heading back home.

Nothing more was said on the way back. Worse, nothing more was said the next day either. Or the days after that. Nothing at all. From that moment on, it was like I was invisible all over again to Jimmy just because we had experienced this strange episode.  I thought I was the only one close to him because we had spent so much time together, but it seems I was wrong.  Nothing could have opened him up to speak the truth.  The holidays came and I remember not seeing him all.  He never rode his bike past my house anymore or threw paper aeroplanes past my window to catch my attention. Normally, I would climb down the drainpipe and meet him round the back of my garden. That too had stopped. The days dragged on and I had gone back to being unnoticed without my daily dose of Ice-cream.

To try to distract myself out of my misery, I decided to spend more time at home with my family, throwing myself into a routine of chores and homework. My home was as quiet as it always was.  My father would be in his study marking papers or writing his next letter of complaint, and my mother would be trying hard to ignore his grunts and groans.  I am the only daughter of Mr and Mrs Veerasamy.  My father was the headmaster of Marston Hill Primary, the first Asian headmaster in its long history, a fact he never tired of reminding me of. Unfortunately, as I attended the school as well, he was also my headmaster, which was another fact he never tired of reminding me of. Hence why I was always so lonely at school and nearly everyone ignored me.  There was ultimate fear in everyone around me that I would leak all their secrets and misdeeds back to my father. The truth is though I never cared enough to, especially as it would have meant communicating with him.

To say I hated my father would not be right. He was, after all, my father, and I had the automatic respect that most children have for their parents, at least until their teenage years. But nor did I love him either. He was a hard man to know.

Until the events that I have yet to tell you of, he had never mistreated me in any way other than an almost total disinterest in any aspect of my life other than my school grades. “Education makes the person, Viyona,” he used to say. “Never forget that. Education makes us who and what we are.”

I used to watch the other children in my class with their fathers and envied them every kiss and hug I saw them get. I never once had that from my father. I longed for him to hold my hand or share a silly joke with me. I would have treasured a goodnight kiss from him, but every ‘goodnight dad’ from me was met with little more than a grunt, until I gave up even wishing him goodnight. It was almost as if the man had undergone a complete compassion bypass, removing everything other than his ability to deliver the occasional pearl of wisdom or disapproving glance.

My mother was also a difficult person to understand. She was much less conservative than my father and I loved her dearly. There are many things I remember fondly about her. The way she used to try and cheer me up when combing over the mistakes she’d made when she had cut my hair; the way she used to tuck me into bed and the way she used to always sneak a bag of sweets into my room after she’d come back from shopping. “Don’t tell your father,” she always used to say as she’d slip them into my hand. At the time, I used to think that the furtive glance towards the door was part of an amusing act, like she was pretending to be a spy delivering a secret message, but I was soon to discover it was something much less playful.

My abiding memory of her though was her sadness. Away from my father and the house, she could be talkative, even lively on occasion. Yet as soon as she was around him, she would be a totally different person, quiet and withdrawn, afraid to speak or to draw attention to herself. Looking back, it was obvious that my parents’ relationship was broken, but at that time, as an 11 year old who didn’t know any better, it was just the way things were. I wanted their relationship to be like the wedding photo that sat on the windowsill. Him, handsome and smart in a grey three-piece suit and her, beautiful in a red and gold sari adorned with elegant gold jewellery, both of them smiling and looking happy. I honestly believed that one day that moment would come back.

Until it did though, I had to satisfy myself with living in a house where barely anyone spoke between its four walls. It was hard, and very lonely, growing up with no-one to really talk to. My dolls were great listeners, but never really had much to contribute. They were certainly not up to talking about Jimmy.

No wonder then that I always looked forward to the return of Summer, my beloved sister.

For most of the year, Summer was away at college studying fashion and design. She was my best friend in the universe, my confidant, my comfort, my solace. She was also one of the most beautiful people I knew, both inside and out. Both her hair, which was as curly as mine was straight, and her skin were lighter than mine and her dark eyes always seemed to shine with a mischievous inner light, even on the rare occasions when she was being serious. She had my mother’s features and the same lithe, elegant figure. She was also tall, which I presumed she got from my father, though curiously that was about the only physical characteristic they had in common.

We would always spend time together when she was back from college.  We were more than six years apart but it never seemed like it. Like me, she had been blessed with an Indian name by our father, though on that occasion my mother hadn’t intervened. Her real name was Samaya, meaning ‘timeless’, which I actually preferred more than my own Indian name, but she called herself Summer. Certainly for me, my world brightened up whenever she was around.

She would talk freely and carelessly to me about her latest fall out with her latest boyfriend, or just about whatever current project she was collecting images for.  Her passion was fashion. Unlike the rest of us, she was also never intimidated by my father, and would quite openly challenge him to notice her, even answering him back on a number of occasions. That is why I loved her so much, because she had an energy I yearned for and a zest for life that made me admire her more and more.  I missed her when she was not at home.

With my days now so quiet without Jimmy, I continued to agonise over what had happened between us, recounting every word in our last conversation until it slowly drove me insane.  In a fit of despair, I decided to call Summer and ask her advice.  She had just returned from a book signing at the college library with her friend Jess.  She sounded so chilled and contented:

"Hi hun, what's up baby blue?"  Summer had called me this from the time I was a toddler, since I was such a tearful baby.

"I miss you Summer, when are you coming home?"

"Next week, I've got a paper to cram for but we'll have plenty of time to catch up.  How's mum and dad?"

"Same as always, on mum and dad's planet" I moaned.

"Ah come on baby blue, they're not that bad.  Give them a break.  No one gave them a book on parenting remember," she tried to reassure me.

"No, but it would have helped if someone did.  I've got no one to talk to.  Dad just lectures and mum always seems to have other things on her mind.  She's hardly at home these days."

"So what is really the problem hun?  You didn't call me to moan about the oldies did you? " Summer could read me like a book.

"It's Jimmy......" I started

"What's happened?  I thought you and him were getting on famously.  You're not the school swimming champion yet then?" she giggled.

"He's not talking to me at all.  We don't go down to the stream after school now.  He just ignores me, so I'm not swimming at all now and I've skipped my last lesson," I finished

"Well that's strange, why would he do that?"  Summer knew I was not telling her everything.

"I think it's because I saw his back..." I murmured in the hope that I really would not have to explain everything and that she would not hear me properly.

"Come on baby blue spit it out.........what do you mean?"

"He showed me his back Sums, it was covered all over with horrible slashes...like...like..someone or something had beaten or whipped him over and over.  It was awful and I really didn't know what else to say to him.  I think I just wanted to know 'how' or 'why' but he just closed up on me and refused to tell me anything." Tears rolled down my cheeks as I told the story to Summer over the phone.  I spoke about us spending days in the water and Jimmy teaching me how to be a strong swimmer.  I told her how he looked out for me in class and how it made the other girls jealous because he was the coolest boy in the school.  Summer reassured me that this was not the end but the chance to win him back.

"Well Sky, best just to wait until he wants to discuss it. Til then, just be patient. He might not feel ready to open up to you.  If you push him too far, you might lose him altogether. ...but there is a way you could get him back.  You could win the swimming gala, and show him that you're grateful for what he has done for you.  He'll be so proud of you and so will I."

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.  By proving to Jimmy I could do it on my own, he would no longer think I was the drippy headmaster's daughter that everyone laughed at.  I would be the strong athletic girl that he thought was cool and wanted to hang out with.

I had to ask myself why I needed Jimmy to notice me again so much.  Why did I feel so invisible all the time without him now? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it was because he had made me feel so important when everyone else clearly felt I was worthless.  Winning the gala would no doubt help to drag him away from whatever misery he was engulfed in.  Whatever that misery was, I had no idea but it was like it was written all over his back.

The following week, Summer returned from college so she and I went to the local swimming pool together.  She tried hard to keep an eye on my new techniques whilst she crammed for her paper on 1960s fashion.  It was not quite the same having her watching me instead of Jimmy, but it was more of a comfort than being alone.  She encouraged me every day to swim harder and faster whilst she finished her paper.  By the beginning of the second week I felt ready to take on any passing Olympic swimmer.  Summer even loaned me her peaches and cream tankini swimsuit.  A bit too glamorous really for the gala.  It was not really me but it made her happy knowing she had aided and abetted my grand scheme of luring Jimmy back to me. The day had almost arrived so I was finally ready.  A stronger, more capable swimmer who was confident she could win her best friend back.  The night before the gala, I packed my gym bag ready for the day I had spent so long preparing for.  I thought I would get an early night, so Summer and I did not spend ages talking as usual until late, but instead just lay awake in silence.

Downstairs I could hear the gentle humming of mother whilst she cleared away the evening's dishes.  She was always so busy around the house doing her chores. I realise now that it was her way of insulating herself against the misery of her life.  In fact, I do not remember mum ever just having a day off from her normal routine of cooking, cleaning and ironing.  I think she did it just to keep my father happy, or, more likely, to just keep away from him.  They barely spoke to each other and their evenings were like two people living worlds apart.  He would watch the evening news whilst working in his study but she would just pass her hours being house proud.  I could not understand why she would want to waste her life in this way, but I realise her best intentions were to keep a happy and safe home for us all.  And she had - at least until that very night as Summer and I lay awake in silence.

As we lay there, drifting off to sleep, we suddenly both heard a gigantic crash of what sounded like plates smashing on the kitchen floor.  Mum started screaming and wailing at dad at the top of her voice.  Alarmed by the noise, we both sat bolt upright in our beds but we did not get up to go downstairs.  We both walked over to the top of the stairs, crouched down and listened, scared we might get caught.  Meanwhile we heard mum sobbing over and over whilst plates just kept crashing.  As she screamed, she threw more and more objects at the walls, then the screams got louder and she became more exasperated.  I wanted to run down and save her from whatever hell she was in, but Summer and I knew our place.  We had always been told never to interfere and that kids should be seen and not heard.  The truth was we had seen too much....

Through the gaps of the upstairs banister, Summer and I saw our mother reach her final point of insanity, something so foreign to us.  We had never seen her act like this but what was even more strange was the reaction of my father.  He just stood and watched by the front door with no remorse or empathy.  I questioned in my mind why he would act this way when the woman he clearly must have loved, at least at one point, was in such agony.  Her wailing gradually quietened down so all Summer and I could hear was her sobbing from within.  Through the house came a deadly silence, at which Summer beckoned me to come back to bed but I froze where I was. I just could not bear to leave mum there on her own. My father evidently could not care that she was in such a state.

Suddenly as we waited to see the next turn of events, a car pulled up outside.  Whilst holding a large suitcase, Dad opened the front door and quietly greeted an elderly bearded man standing in the porch way, who took the case and put it in his car.   My mouth dropped as I saw mum follow him out of the front door without looking back once at Dad.  Fear suddenly entered my body and I panicked, as the realisation dawned on me that this might be the last time I saw her. In an effort to save her from leaving, I ran down the stairs and out of the front door towards the big black taxi. But I was too late. As I reached the front gate, the taxi sped off into the night. “Mum!” I yelled. “Mum! Come back. Don’t go. Please!”. It was no good though. The last vision I had of my mother was as she sat in the back of the taxi. She turned to see me running after her and blew a big kiss my way, whilst tears ran down her cheeks.  I heard her call my name from inside the car and then she was gone.................gone ............gone.

Losing Jimmy had broken my heart. Losing my mother was to break my world.

Chapter 2

I slept in Summer's bed that night with an extra blanket to stop my teeth from chattering.  My body felt dreadfully cold and weak from the shock.  I hadn't stopped sobbing from the time mum left in the taxi.  Summer stayed awake to stroke my hair and soothe me to sleep.  All I could remember was the kiss mum blew at me before she drove away.  Why didn't she tell us where she was going?  Did dad know?  If he did, he had never said a word.  After he shut the front door, he just sat down and finished reading his paper like nothing had happened.  I only noticed a slightly disappointed look on his face, something similar to when he thought he might have lost a game of chess to my uncle.  His bottom lip curled over slightly in the same way as when he lost a major piece or made a silly move. But besides that, nothing.

As always, Summer remained my comfort.  She was like my warm teddy bear holding me close with her paws wrapped around me. That night Summer held her own tears back so she could be strong for me the whole time. Consequently she got very little sleep as she spent all night calming me down instead.  I'll never forget the soft touch of her fingers gliding through my hair.  Eventually my mind drifted off into a deep, coma-like sleep, one from which I hoped I’d never wake up.   

When the morning arrived I struggled to even get ready. As soon as I woke up, I felt an unbearable wave of emptiness and loss come washing over me. I saw my own misery reflected in Summer’s face, her eyes-red-ringed from tiredness and the tears she had shed when I’d finally fallen asleep. The shock had taken over the whole of my body so much that I couldn't dress myself.  Summer helped me to change for the gala that I had previously been looking forward so much to. Not being able to face eating, we both skipped breakfast and set off for school.  

The swimming baths were in a separate dome-shaped building at the back of the school field. Loud cheers echoed as everyone egged on their house teams.  Summer left me in the changing rooms with the other swimmers to get my wrist band and find the queue to register for the first heat.  Everything felt like a big blur as my head began pounding heavily. How could I possibly compete now after what had happened. In my head I just kept seeing the picture of mother driving off in the taxi.  The more I saw her, the more my head hurt.

At that moment, the first heat was announced and I heard my name being called from the list.  I walked towards the edge of the pool, and whilst looking up to see where Summer was, felt my heart wrench.  She sat next to Belle, a girl from my class who had decided not to enter this year.  Swimming was never her strong point but music was, she was a brilliant pianist like her mother.  I wished at that point I was sitting between them and not standing at the edge of what seemed like the pool of doom.

Suddenly I felt a dizzy spell take over me and with one enormous splash fell, hitting my head first on the concrete edge. I remember hearing a collective gasp from the crowds as they saw me fall, followed by the gurgling and bubbling of water as my ears went under and I started to sink to the bottom of the pool. Down, down, down, down I went, further and further, with no strength to get back up.  It all went black.  Everything.  What happened next, I’m not entirely sure. It might have been a near death experience, or a flashback. Or maybe a last thought of how I would have liked my life to have been. 

Whatever it was, it came out of the blackness like an orb of light coming out of a tunnel, growing bigger and brighter until it formed into a vision of what looked like my parents sitting under an old oak tree. At least I assumed they were my parents. They looked young, no wrinkles, just smiles as they cuddled and kissed each other over and over.  Then from nowhere a little girl dressed in a peach-sequinned dress holding balloons came running towards them.  She jumped into my father's arms, letting the balloons float into the sky.  My father kissed the little girl on the forehead and spun her round whilst she and my mum giggled away in utter delight.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the vision retreated away from me, becoming progressively less clear as it receded and shrank.

The next thing I recall, bubbles were surrounding me as I was pushed to the surface.  I felt a weight from beneath me carry me up and hold me above the water.  I was able to open my eyes and see the bright lights of the dome above me. It was eerily quiet, as the spectators and my fellow competitors alike held their breaths as they waited to see whether I had drowned or survived. As I gasped for air and took my own deep breath, feeling alive again, a cheer rang out, as everyone realised I was indeed still alive.

It was then that I realised I had been saved from drowning.  Jimmy had dived in and pulled me out with the help of Summer.  Both fully clothed and dripping wet, they dragged me to the steps at the edge of the pool, wrapped me in a towel as I lay there, my head covered in blood where I had knocked it.  It throbbed constantly but for some reason there was no pain.  I felt nothing at all now Jimmy was with me.  I was so glad to see him.

"Oh Sky you know you're not supposed to hit the water until the whistle goes, you're always too eager!" Jimmy said sarcastically, "and you know that dive would have been better on a board and away from the edge.  Did you not remember anything I taught you?". As always, he was trying to make light of a serious situation, but I couldn't laugh at all.  My head was pounding.  I knew he was just trying to make me feel better by lightening the mood, but nothing could drag me out of this hell. In truth I wanted him to cuddle me but he just didn't see the signs, so I came out and just said it.

"She's gone" I said faintly.

"I know, Summer told me", he looked down at the floor.

"She's taken everything Jimmy, absolutely everything.  She'll never be back now." I felt the pit of my stomach turn over and over as I uttered these tragic words.

"You don't know that Traffic Light", he tried to smile hopefully, using my nickname from the fateful day of the tumbling paint pot. "You don't know what was said between them.  Adults are weird, they make stupid choices and decisions that kids would never make.  It might be just a wrong one that's all, she'll be back, I'm sure." He took my hand and gripped it tightly to reassure me.  But I unlocked his hand angrily.

"WHY AM I ALWAYS THE LAST ONE TO KNOW? I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHY? DID I DO SOMETHING?  DID I NOT LOVE HER ENOUGH?" I sat upright yelling back at him, totally oblivious to the scene I was making right there in the swimming pool, with hundreds of sets of eyes and ears all fixed on me.

"This might not have anything to do with you Sky, stop over-reacting, you always do this"

"WHAT!!!!???!!"

"Take things the wrong way"

"I WANT HER BACK! I WANT HER BACK! I WANT HER BACK! I WANT HER BACK!" I just kept yelling at the top of my lungs as tears poured from my tired eyes.  My head was hurting so much I just couldn't stop myself from repeating those words.

Jimmy suddenly grabbed my arms across my sides and wrapped his arms around me.  He squeezed me so tight I could feel his ribs touching mine.  I squeezed him back and we didn't let go until the school nurse and our PE teacher came to treat my head. As they prized us apart, I kept my eyes fixed on Jimmy the whole time. It was then that I knew I had my first feelings for him.

That morning Jimmy Ice-cream took my place at the gala and he swam the best I had ever seen him swim. Ignoring the concerned glances that were cast at his scarred back, he glided confidently and majestically through the water like a bullet, leaving a long trail of bubbles, and the other swimmers, in his wake. His body curved up and down, over and under the waves so fast that no one else stood a chance.  Summer watched whilst the school nurse bathed my head and sat me down next to both she and Belle so that we could all watch Jimmy finish the race first.  My heart that had fallen so far that morning had now been lifted so high I could feel it pounding inside my chest. Tears of joy ran down my cheeks as he swam to the final bar and stopped.  How pleased I was that my water beast, scars and all, had chosen to swim that day, to show how mighty he was in the water.  How courageous he was to save me and make my team win.  My Jimmy Ice-cream had saved me again.

******

Summer soon returned to college and since mum's sudden departure left me feeling so low, Jimmy and I spent more time together.  I felt I just needed him to be there to reassure me that I was going to be alright.  He never grew tired of me.  At school he waited for me patiently after every class had finished, even helped with gathering away my books and fetching my coat.  The months moved on slowly and gradually the raw wound of mum’s departure began to heal slightly as I started to feel less alone. After school, Jimmy would prepare me a chocolate milk when we arrived back at mine, then sit by my side on the porch step until dad was due to come home.  Then he would go on home and make an excuse to call me again later.  That's how I liked it but I would never admit it to him.

When I was left alone with dad, I tried to imagine that mum was still around.  I pictured her downstairs still singing softly away to herself whilst doing her usual chores.  It was the only way to block out the eeriness of the house that she had left behind.  My father was like a ghost, wandering in and out as he chose, moving around me without a word.  Every night he expected me to prepare a light supper for both of us before I went upstairs to bed.  There was very little interaction between us at the dinner table because he just didn't seem to want to talk about anything.  But one night, I remember this just changed.  It must have been after more than six months that I first noticed a change in his behaviour.

We dined a bit earlier that evening as dad had mentioned he needed to go out and meet someone.  I never questioned him whenever he had appointments as it was never in my nature to, however it would have been nice for him to have confided in me once in a while.  I had planned to call Summer whilst he was out with the hope of speaking to her about my birthday.  I wanted to go and stay with her for a few days as I knew Dad probably wouldn't have organised anything for me.  I actually couldn't bear to spend my 12th birthday at home knowing he was going to treat it like a normal day in the calendar.  At dinner we both sat at opposite ends of the table.  He would usually just finish his meal, ask me how school was and then retire to his study, but that evening he sat just holding his cutlery without even attempting to raise one morsel to his mouth.  Staring at his plate, I asked him whether there was something wrong with the pork and apple stew I had made.

" ...nothing,dear, it all looks fine"  he looked up and tried to force a smile.

"But something's wrong dad,” I said. “You didn't do assembly at school this morning and Mr Farrell said you came home early this afternoon but when I came home with Jimmy you weren't there...."

"Jimmy?  Jimmy?" He interrupted me.

"Yes James Silver, you know he and I are friends." I carried on eating, shoving most of my peas across the side of the plate, hiding them under the mashed potato.

"That boy is bad news, I don't want you spending time with him anymore." he said, pointing his fork at me and glaring at me sternly, his eyes burning with an all-too-familiar rage.

"Why?  You've never had an issue with me being with him before, have you?" I questioned, almost choking on my food.  I decided to push my plate to one side knowing I couldn't stomach anymore and wishing desperately that I had never brought Jimmy into the conversation.

"His family are from the other side of Marston Hill, I know of them well.  His father has a chequered past, one you should stay well clear of... ". His voice grew sterner.

"But I never see his family, I've never even been to his house dad. Anyway, his dad owns his own newspaper and everything. Jimmy is really kind, not like the others.  He never judges me," I tried to reason with him as I broke away from his stare, getting up and taking my plate over to the kitchen.

Dad followed me and stood in the doorway near the kitchen counter.

"...there's no reason to judge us, but every reason to judge him and his family,” he spat bitterly, every word coming out like an arrow being fired at a target.  “Now don't question me again, it's my final word.  I want you to stay away from that boy....besides he won't see you much longer anyway." He turned away to return back to the dining room.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, a surge of panic starting to rise within me.

"I've decided to send you to a convent school in France.  Now your mother is gone and I'm busy with my work at the school, you won't receive the attention you need.  I think a good solid grounding is what is best for you."

"BEST FOR ME? OR BEST FOR YOU?!!" I shouted back. Once again, I felt my heart being dropped again from a great height as the realisation of the impact of his words hit me. Without another word, I turned and ran up to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

The thought of not being near to Jimmy made me panic almost instantly.  I could feel myself breathing more and more rapidly.  Dad retired to his study reluctant to turn our disagreement into a full-blown row, which he knew was likely to happen if he'd hung around.  Once my father had his final word, I could never cross it and that was that.

My father was a very tall, lean, stern-looking man. His name, Garjan, which meant Thunder in Hindi, suited him perfectly. For an Asian, he had unusually light, almost hazel, eyes that bore into you when he spoke to you and would turn almost orange if he stared hard enough. He spoke with a clipped English accent, which had been refined and honed as a Catholic-educated schoolboy in Mauritius. Many of those who knew him said his manner was often more English than most English people, although in his outlook he was still typically very Indian, uneasy mixing with others who didn’t share his views, particularly when it came to raising his children. Always clean-shaven and smartly turned out, he deplored scruffiness and laziness in others and had little patience with anyone he considered to be less intelligent than him. He also detested anything creative, seeing anything to do with the arts or music as a frivolous waste of time and energy that could be better spent on more serious pursuits. “The world doesn’t need more artists Viyona,” he used to say. “Art and music doesn’t make the world go round. Only money does that.”

Aside from a slight physical resemblance in the shape of our eyes and our faces, there wasn’t much of him in me. I opposed pretty much everything he believed in and he knew it. Had he ever tried to communicate with me like a warm and loving father, and taken an interest in me, then maybe we would have had much more in common, but as it was, his cold and lofty manner left nothing but an ever-increasing distance between us.

That night, I sat up in bed struggling with the idea that my world would come to an end without Jimmy.  It would take me such a long time to make another friend like him. Not to mention that I was becoming increasingly aware of my feelings for him, which were stronger than any I had ever had for a boy. How would I cope?  I felt sick as I contemplated an empty world without him.

The next day I decided not to stop for Jimmy on the corner of Reynes Road where he always met me so we could walk to school together.  Instead, I took a longer route to avoid him, knowing that if we met that morning he would have been able to read me like a book.  I wasn't ready to tell him anything just yet.

I often think that things are meant to happen for a reason. I’m a strong believer that the random choices we make can often have the biggest impact on our lives. There are many instances in my life where I wonder what would have happened if I had not acted on a particular impulse and instead stuck to my normal routine.

Avoiding Jimmy that day was one such choice that I was to make that would have a lasting effect on my life. For that was the day I really became friends with Belle.

On arriving at school, I was keen to avoid Jimmy for as long as I could. As I came to the end of the main corridor, I glanced furtively around the corner, looking to see whether I could see him. I had just stuck my head around the corner when a voice came from behind me.

“This looks fun. Who are we avoiding?”

Turning around, I saw Belle, who had moved alongside me and was peering down the corridor as well, her head poking out beneath mine.

Belle was one of the popular girls in class, mainly because of her talent for music but also for her sense of humour.  Other girls were insanely jealous of her ability to play more than four instruments as they were only learning the one.  She just made it look so easy.  But that wasn't all. She was also involved in every school play, sang in the choir, was president of the school debating society and wrote the cheer leading music for the school's team. She was also an excellent impressionist and knew loads of jokes. Everyone seemed to love her because she excelled in everything she did.  The truth is no one understood how it was possible that she could be that talented.  I personally would have loved just an inch of what she had.  At least that inch would have made me feel less of a disappointment.  Although I didn’t know her that well, I liked Belle because she never boasted about any of her accomplishments.

“Is it that Jimmy Silver?” she asked. Then, changing the pitch of her voice, she added “Hey baby, I’m so cool, look at me”.

Her impression was so spot on that I couldn’t help but laugh, even despite the fact that she was making fun of my best friend.

“Yes. I’m trying not to bump into him this morning,” I said.

“Yes, it must be awful being seen with someone that good looking,” said Belle cheerfully, though not without a slight hint of envy in her voice. I was amazed as I realised that the great Belle, whose talents I was so jealous of, was in fact envious of me too.

“Come on, I know just the place,” she added quickly, possibly having realised she had given herself away. “Follow me.”

Belle asked me if I fancied a hot chocolate from the canteen to warm ourselves up before our first class, so I accepted without hesitation. Obviously I had spoken with Belle before, but we had never been close friends.

Belle’s first attempt at breaking the ice between us was a direct hit.

“So, you and Mr Silver. You’re normally like salt and pepper – you know, like mutually exclusive. Never one without the other. Any particular reason you’re avoiding him today?”

It wasn’t a question I felt that comfortable answering, especially with someone I didn’t know that well. "Nothing that I really want to share with anyone" I joked cagily.

"Now, now. I’m only asking, don't get over sensitive about it Sky. Now, let's get something hot to drink.  I'm freezing!!!" she grabbed a couple of mugs of chocolate milk and bought them over to me.  We sat at the back of the dinner hall where most of the early birds would meet before school and read.  Jimmy and I used to call them 'The Boffs'.  Belle was leader of ‘The Boffs'.  I envied her for it because she was proud of who she was. Not only that, but for someone so clever, she moved easily between different groups of people and was universally accepted and liked by almost everyone. I watched as she took out her music diary whilst sipping her chocolate.

"What are you writing now Belle? Let me guess, the new Beethoven's fifth symphony or Mozar.."

“Nothing that I really want to share with anyone," she replied, repeating my earlier response to her question about Jimmy.

She must have seen the hurt look on my face, for she then added more gently:

"Now don't make fun Missy. This diary is very special as it was given to me by my Grandma Gertie.  She's got songs in here that she wrote years ago, some from when she was just around my age. I'm really lucky to have this book." Belle looked intently at me for a few second, and then shrugged to herself, as if she had reached a decision.  Holding the book open on her lap, she gently turned the delicate pages over towards me so I could see the beautiful lyrics and notes inside.  It was extraordinary.  Each new page looked more intricate than the last, with fine musical notes written on one line and then the lyrics written underneath.  At the front there was a list of instruments tied in with pink ribbon, ones which Gertie had played over the years.  Belle flicked through towards the back of the book and, as she did, a small envelope fell out onto the floor.

"What's that?"  I asked, being my normal nosey self, hoping that Belle wouldn't mind me asking. Her life already seemed always much more interesting than mine.

"Ahhhh, these are pictures of Grandma Gertie when she used to sing with her band," she said, sweeping them up gently.  She opened the envelope and showed me one by one a world that I had never known.  Pictures of Gertie sitting at a piano playing and singing along, whilst behind her stood a man with a saxophone and another with a guitar.  Hidden further away was a drummer at the back, banging a five-piece drum kit.  There must have been more than forty old photos of the band playing in clubs around the world.  Belle explained that they were part of a jazz folk band that performed their own music written by Gertie herself. Gertie looked amazingly beautiful in every one of the pictures with long, floating golden locks and bewitching clear eyes, which Belle explained were almost emerald green.  She was a dazzling star singing and I could see a true likeness to Belle almost immediately.  I knew now where Belle got her passion for life from.

"Grandma Gertie said I'll be just like her one day, I just have to believe and it will come true," said Belle smiling as she packed the book away in her bag.  As she uttered those words, something inside me made me think that I would love to just be able to shine like that.  To bring out the best in me and be a strong shining star. My father had never encouraged me like Gertie had with Belle, in fact he obviously just wanted me to leave so I never burdened him again.  I was willing to prove him wrong, and give him reason enough so that I could stay in Marston Hill.  That day, Belle had given me a little bit of hope.  My mind started to buzz with ideas. We finished our hot chocolate and went to class, now the best of friends.

******

One of the few private details I knew about my mother was that she had been a dancer for a group called the 'Beatles Babies' in her teen years.  She used to go on parade with a dozen other girls every year for the carnival and other similar events.  The Babies, as they were widely known, would make up dance routines to well-known chart topping hits of The Beatles.  My mother was probably the best dancer as she was selected to coach when she was older.  That's how she met my dad.  He was brother of one of the Beatles Babies called Neelam.  Mum used to go back to Neelam’s house to practice their teaching routines.  Dad used to love to watch them practice in the early days.  Apparently my father was besotted with her from that point on.

I don't really know when it all stopped. The dancing I mean.  I don't know when mum stopped coaching the 'Beatles Babies' because from the time I was born I only recall her being at home. I can guess that her stopping had something to do with my father though. From the time I could remember, the only time I ever saw her sing or dance around the house was when she did her chores.  I wish I had seen her perform like dad did.

******

3.15pm. The end of day bell rang bang on time.  I'd been watching the clock all day patiently so that I could rush out of the gate with Belle.  We had planned that morning to meet after school so that we could look again at her music diary.  Something was so incredible about it, that I felt inspired, almost captivated.  Belle was quite willing to encourage me in every way she could although she was not quite sure what it was I had planned to do.

Worried that I would see Jimmy after school, I decided to take an alternative route. He had tried a few times to speak to me in class, but I had managed to avoid him, thanks to our teacher who eventually got so fed up with Jimmy’s attempts to speak with me that he sent him outside. When he finally came back in, Jimmy had obviously got the message, and instead just stared at me sulkily. I felt bad, but I was not ready to speak to him yet about my father’s threat, which I hoped was just another way of him trying to scare me into line. Belle and I met outside a different gate where most of ‘The Boffs’ would hang out together once the bell went.  We were easily hidden between clusters of other members of The Boffs club coming out of their last maths lesson.  No one would ever have expected me to be there....ever.  It was a strange feeling I had, knowing that I was avoiding the one person that I felt I needed to be with, but I didn't know how to face telling him the news.  Dad was suddenly set on me going away to a convent school and there was no way of me changing his mind.  The question that rested on my mind was why he was sending me away?  Had he had enough of me or did he want a different life now mum was gone.  One thing was certain. If he made good on his threat, I would miss Jimmy to death.

Strolling slowly out of school towards home, Belle carried her precious music diary tucked under her arm.  I walked alongside my new friend feeling a sense of nervous excitement in the pit of my stomach.  Arriving at my house, I invited Belle to stay for a while so we could look through her book of songs.  We went up to my room and sat on the bed to read the lyrics of the wonderful songs that Grandma Gertie had composed.  It was then that I decided I wanted to become someone different and change who I was.  I was no longer content to be someone shrouded by cloud, foggy and barely noticeable.  I wanted to be vibrant and dazzling like Gertie with confidence like Belle.  Reaching for my hairbrush on my dressing table, I grabbed it and stood at the foot of my bed.  Belle looked up in wondrous amazement at me, surprised in the change that had already come over me.  There in front of both my mirror and Belle, holding my fake wireless 'hairbrush' microphone, I sang out loud the first of Gertie's songs called 'Look at Me'.  The beautiful words just flowed out of my lungs like a songbird. Every part of the melody that I sang out of my soul was in perfect pitch and harmony.

It was like Belle’s book had unlocked a part of my soul, casting bright light into a long forgotten, dark and dusty room. It was as if the shutters in the room were thrown open to reveal a new and exciting landscape of endless possibilities. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I sang from verse to chorus and back to verse again. I hadn't felt this happy in a long time.  Belle didn't stop me from singing. Instead she clapped and cheered along, encouraging me to sing another song. At that point I knew I had made the first change in my life. The feeling was indescribable.

"Wowww. That was amazing Sky!" Belle exclaimed joyfully, as she pulled me back down beside her on the bed.  Overwhelmed with excitement she embraced my cheek then hugged me tightly.  The warmth of her affection made me feel so happy, I felt like bursting into song again.

"You never told me you were taking singing lessons?" Belle asked. Grabbing the hairbrush out of my hand swiftly, she began to brush her hair long locks with it.

"I've never had a singing lesson in my life,” I said, still breathless from the excitement of the last few minutes. “Dad would never let me do anything like that. Anything creative, singing, acting, dancing....unless it’s purely academic, he thinks it’s a waste of time pursuing it."  I snatched the hairbrush back and gave her a cheeky grin.

"Well I thought you were wonderful.  I'd love to write songs for you!  Lots of songs!  I can see it now. I can write and you can sing.  We'll be like the best singing duo in Marston Hill and everyone will queue up to see us for miles."  As Belle talked through her plans, she spun around my bedroom, making big twirls.  I felt dizzy just watching her, but a strong sense of desire began to rise up inside me.  I felt I wanted everything she spoke of.

"I know exactly where we can go to practice.  My Grandma has a vintage emporium in Old Marston. We can go there after school and sing whenever we want." she went on ...and on....and on.

"BUT WAIT!" I shouted.  The image of my father suddenly came into my mind.

"What?" Belle asked sitting back down on the bed.

"What about dad?  He wants me to go and study in France.  How can I stop him from sending me there?  He would never allow me to sing in any group because he just wants me banished to some god forsaken French School somewhere.  OH HELL!!!  I hate him.  Why does he want me gone?"  I threw myself onto my bed in a big heap and just lay there staring at the ceiling.

"It can't be that bad Sky.  Look, don't worry.  He doesn't have to know that we’re singing coz we'll keep it all hush.  You never know, he might change his mind once he realises his little girl's a mega star." Belle picked up her music diary and looked out of the bedroom window.

"Looks like he's back now, I better leave quickly.  We can talk about all of this at school tomorrow.  Stay positive Sky and remember I'll stick by you and so will Jimmy." As she was about to leave the room, Belle turned and looked at me, with the same intent expression on her face that she had worn earlier when she had decided to show me her grandmother’s book. “You know what Sky? I’m glad we’ve made friends.” She smiled quickly and then, without waiting for a reply, she left the room.  She was gone very quickly.

Jimmy?  Jimmy?  Oh hell Jimmy!  I lay still on the bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about how I wanted to be with Jimmy.  I wish I could take him with me to France. I’d been horrible to him that day. With a heavy heart, I lay there deliberating about how to face my father that evening and, more importantly, how I was going to explain to Jimmy why I had been avoiding him. As the daylight through my window began to fade, I felt my eyes become heavy. Drawing my bedspread over me against the cold in the room, I fought the urge to keep thinking and let sleep start to wash over me. 

I had almost dozed off when suddenly the front door closed with a loud bang, followed by the steady clump of footsteps, which became louder as they marched upstairs and down the landing.  I jumped straight out of bed and hid behind my bedroom door, crouching down on the floor. I knew it was my father. I could feel my body quivering with fear, scared for the confrontation we were about to have.  Why could I not just face up to him and tell him how I felt?  My bedroom door suddenly was pushed straight open.  I fell against it, like a heap into the middle of the floor.  My father stood over me with the most terrible look on his face. I had seen him angry before, but never like this. Grabbing me by my hair he pulled me out my room, dragging me along the landing and down the wooden stairs.  My knees bumped one by one down each step, each bump sending a sharp pain shooting along my legs. I began to scream in horror at what he was doing but he proceeded to  drag me through to the back of the kitchen to where there was a small cupboard.

My knees started to bleed from being scraped over the hard kitchen floor.  I tried hard to pull away from him but his anger was so intense and his force was so strong that I could not break free.  Then he opened the door of the small cupboard and, pulling my hair more fiercely, shouted into my face.

"LITTLE GIRLS ARE TO BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

I pleaded with him to let me go but nothing could calm him down.

"Please dad!! What have I done wrong?  Please don't send me away."  Tears poured down my face as I gasped for air.

"You've been caught by a teacher at the school.  She has a house at the edge of the local stream and seen what you've been up to.  She said you've been swimming in there with that boy after school with hardly any clothes on.  I told you specifically to stay away from him didn't I?  You didn't listen so you must be punished!  I will not be disobeyed!  Ever!" He then proceeded to slap me in the face, once, twice, three times, each blow harder than the last. On the third slap, my nose started to bleed.

And they were the last words I heard from him.  No amount of pleading or surrendering would have saved me that day.  I was in hell.

The small cupboard that had always been my mother's cake larder in more pleasant times was the new place he had chosen to make me suffer for my sins.  He pushed me into the tiny hole and locked it tight.  My body shivered in fear at the thought that he had not finished his wretched torture, but would pull me out for more.  There I crouched in the tiny larder without any space, with bleeding knees and nose and gasping for air.  I could barely breathe.  I closed my eyes, feeling the world closing in on me...................and suddenly blacked out.

Chapter 3

My blackout transformed into a blurry vision of a dark narrow staircase.  I followed it, floating along as I suddenly heard laughter ahead of me.  The noise came from behind a glass door right at the bottom of the staircase.  Pushing it open I could see the back of what looked like my mother standing by a bathroom sink.  She was bending down washing her hair over the basin.  Large soapy suds poured over the sides and spilled onto the floor but she just ignored it.  Standing close behind her was what looked like my father, but he had his back to me so I couldn't quite see whether it was him.  He began to help my mother to rinse her hair by pouring a cup of water over her long brown curls.  Then he bent over and kissed the back of her neck.  I watched whilst he then turned her to face him and hold her close to him.  She smiled back at him and embraced him.  Their bodies began to entwine and suddenly they laughed as they broke free to see the water spilling out from the basin.  The water gushed over the floor.    My mother took the cup and filled it.  They then both proceeded to throw water over each other in fits of giggles.  They looked so happy.  All the bubbles faded away.......................     

I opened my eyes then tried to swallow but felt a dryness at the back of my throat.  All I could feel was a weakness that had taken over me, so much that I could barely see.  What I did see was some light finally from my small bedroom window.  I was no longer in the pit of hell but recognised my bed where I had been left, curled up in a ball.   In my weak state I tried to grab the sheets from below me and wrap them around my waist to feel warm again.  I just kept shivering.  Although my legs remained paralysed my heart stayed ever strong so I tried hard to get up from the bed and walk towards my bedroom door.  My eyes felt so sore from being closed for so long that I could bearly keep them open but I managed to make it to the door.  Stumbling slowly I tried to pull the door handle towards me but realised it was locked.  LOCKED!  LOCKED!  LOCKED!

What had I done to deserve this that my father had chosen to lock me away like an animal.  He had dragged my body into a cupboard and now he had locked me in my room.  A punishment I failed to understand from a man I never understood.

My world suddenly closed in on me like a flash.  I started to panick at the thought that I would never see beyond my bedroom door ever again.  The tears just kept flowing from my eyes.  Watching the clock above my bed and the calendar that rested on my book shelf, I tried to calculate just how long my punisher had left me locked away.  3 days.

3 days became 4

4 days became 5

I had spent the days lying in my bed, weeing in an empty shoe box from my wardrobe and eating leftovers my punisher had left on a tray daily.  Food with no taste, just toast and butter, plain semolina without the jam I normally craved and water.  On the 5th day, I had reached my limit of utter despair and with barely enough strength to stand, I decided to plan my escape.  To fight my way out of the back way of the house was my only route to an get out.  But how I asked myself?

That night I waited for my father's footsteps to stop around 10, when I knew he had taken his normal seat in front of the TV to watch the news.  Crawling towards the back window I looked around for the first available sharp object.  But my heart jumped at the sight of  a large snowball on my desk with a dancing ballerina inside it that my mother gave to me on my last birthday.  Found it!!  My escape!! Wrapping it with an old T.shirt from my wardrobe , I began bashing hard against the small window until it cracked into several little pieces.  Luckily the noise was dulled by the T.shirt.  The largest piece broke in a sharp diamond shape cutting my wrist more than three times, but in my desperation I just ignored the pain and continued to break through it.  Finally I realised there was enough space to get away.  Taking my school bag with what little money I had and a spare set of clothes, I made my escape.  Jumping from the balcony outside of my room, climbing down a tree and then collapsing onto the neighbours shed roof.  There were no footsteps behind me just an unbelievable quietness.  Although I felt uneasy about my way out of this trap that had kept me hidden for days, a sense of relief came over me at the same time.

Running, running, running faster I took myself to Belle's house.  She lived at the top of Marston Hill more than a mile and a half away.  Belle's family home was situated between a church and the local shops in Marston.  It was tucked away behind St Augustus.  Arriving at her front gate, I made my way down the side of the house towards where her bedroom window was.  Taking some gravel from her back garden I threw it at her window, hoping she would hear my desperate call.  Again and again I threw the gravel,  digging hard into the soil around me, scraping in desperation until the tips of my fingers bled.

Nothing.

No Belle.

Nothing.

There at the foot of the bedroom window I fell asleep outside in Belle's back garden.  What else could  I do?

'When the state of your life appears seems to be at its bleakest, you must try to battle through it and carry on.  Never, never, never give up'  my mother always used to say.  'Chase your dreams' she was always so positive.  I remember her saying this to me when I came home from school one day crying because an English teacher had mocked me in front of the whole of the class.  I had forgotten my lines to the school play for Julius Ceaser, so she called me a 'ridiculous fool'.  My world felt like it was shattering even then but mum just knew how to make me feel better.  She knew how to pick me up.

I felt her near me as I lay in Bell's back garden and the sun warmed the top of my face.  The morning had broken with a glow I welcomed so much.  But there looking over me was not only the sun and the words of wisdom from mother but the most beautiful face I wanted see.  Jimmy Ice Cream.  It was slightly blurry as I could not see clearly in my tired state, but it was definately him.  Suddenly I felt his strong arms pick me up and carry me into the house.  I saw Bell ahead of me.....

"I think she's dead"  I heard her whisper.

"She's not dead dopey, she's breathing,  she's cold coz she's been out all night" he replied, laying me down on the sofa.

"look at her though, she's all grubby, and she stinks! What the hell has happened to her?"she questioned.

"I dread to think.......I'm sure we'll find out though.  Let her rest here for a while then we can let her wash later. " he sat at the edge of the sofa just staring down into my face.  My eyes could only open half way.

"She needs to eat.  I'll fix her some toast and tea.  You stay with her whilst I go to the kitchen" she walked off leaving Jimmy and I alone.

Whilst I lay on the sofa, I felt Jimmy's hand stroke the sides of my face.  He leaned over and kissed my forehead.  His soft lips felt so warm and comforting I wanted so much to put my arms around him but had no strength at all.  He just kept stroking my face and then my hair.  That's all I remember until I drifted off into a another deep sleep, but a more contented one.

That morning once I had woken up again, and eaten something warm, I found I had the strength to tell my only two friends in the whole world what I had suffered.  They sat either side of me on the sofa whilst I explained my frightening tale of being locked away from the outside world.  Their reactions were sum what different to what I had expected.  Belle was severely distraught by the news and at one point mentioned it might be worth contacting our local police station.  She began pacing up and down the room in anger like a detective sergeant constantly questioning me on the chain of events that had happened.  Jimmy called her ridiculous and asked her to sit back down.  He didn't appear shocked at all at what had happened to me but just pleased that he was there with me again.  I couldn't understand why he didn't look angry.  It was almost as if he had suspected this cruel behaviour of my father for sometime.

After having my toast and tea, Bell showed me through to her ensuite bathroom adjoining her bedroom.  She allowed me to use her own private space to wash the last few days of hell off me whilst she and Jimmy waited for me in the front room.  My knees were still so chafed from being dragged into the cupboard so I washed in warm water to stop them from burning.  It felt so good to be washing with soap....something I always took for granted, but now no longer.  I lathered the soap over by body, again and again almost four or five times before I realised it wasn't the grime on my skin that I was washing away but my fathers cruel hand.

Coming out of the shower and drying myself off, I felt invigorated,  free from the torment I had just experienced.  As I approached the door to let myself out, I heard whispers from the other side.   Creeping forward I listened in to hear my two friends planning my future.

"You're insane Jimmy, we can't do that"

"It's the only way, otherwise she'll be back to that bastard's lair for more of his sick games"

"But he'll hunt her down and you never know what he'll do"

" Exactly, so we have no choice but to hide her away"

"What about school though?"

".......yes what about school?  Dad wants me to go to France now.  He's planning to send me away now.  If he finds me he will send me away quicker"  I opened the door to interupt them mid speech.  They both looked back at me in silence, then turned to look at each other again.  I knew my life was in their hands and without hesitation I let them plan my escape from my father.  I believed they would protect me forever.  With another cup of tea, I sat down and listened  to Bell whilst she explained my secret haven through the woods.  They plotted to take me to my destination and then leave straight for school.  I waited in anticipation for my subsequent journey into the unknown to unfold.  Bell dragged a small case out from underneath her bed and began packing some clothes for me from her own wardrobe.  Some jeans, a couple of tunics and a sweater were packed quickly away and with one swoop we were on our way.

I held onto Jimmy's hand as Bell led us both out to the front of her house where a burgundy coloured VW Beetle was parked up.  Opening the back door she got in and motioned to us to do the same.  I was intrigued by the woman sat in the drivers seat.  She didn't turn around to talk to us but sat in silence, waiting for us to settle on the back seat.  Before long the engine was started up and we were off.  My new journey had begun.  My hands were shaking, still clutching onto jimmy's he held my hand more tightly to calm me down.  As we drove off I turned to look back at Bell's house, I could see the image of my father in the smoke of the engine that was left behind us.  It sent a shiver down my spine.

The car drove through the village of Marston to other villages beyond that my parents had never dared venture to.....Cranleigh, Burstow, Stoke Hammond until eventually we came to Drayton Parslow where we stopped.  Our driver coughed then after pulling up outside the town shops, she turned around.  The mysterious old lady was the legendary Grandma Gertie, Bell's grandmother.  Gertie had a jolly face, big brown eyes, peachy cheeks with a wide smile.  Seriously you could put cherries in her dimples.   Bell had said so many wonderful things about her I was instantly relieved that she had left me in Gertie's hands.  We arrived in Parslow outside a row of shops....a hair salon, a bakers, a florist then Gorgeous Gerties .....GORGEOUS GERTIES!!!!!!, GORGEOUS GERTIES!!!!!!, GORGEOUS GERTIES!!!!!!  My heart just kept racing the minute I saw the sign outside the front.  This was to be my safe haven.

It was like I had entered another world, full of pretty colours, treats and sugar galore...every child's dream.  When Gertie opened the front door of the shop I caught the first glimpse of heaven.  A counter next to shelves of every imaginable sweet I ever wanted....cola cubes, lemon fizz, bonbons, gob stoppers, strawberry laces, flying saucers, refreshers, rhubarb and custard, toffee crumble.  My eyes got bigger and bigger following the rows of tall jars along the shelves.

It was slightly confusing at first that there were tables and chairs spread across the front area of the shop.  The tables had pretty, brightly coloured cloths with lace frills.  Was this a candy shop or a cafe?  My mind was boggled by it, but I was definitely intrigued.  Grandma Gertie showed us through to the back of the shop, deeper and deeper where there were more seats perched near tall glass cake stands carrying the most splendid looking gateaus,   My mouth watered at the sight of red velvet, carrot, banana, chocolate fudge, coconut, lime, peach...the list was endless.  I could taste the red velvet instantly just by looking at it....my eternal favourite that mum used to bake for my birthday.

Gertie took us upstairs across a winding staircase to show me to my room at the top of two floors.  My bed had a beautiful patchwork quilt and two fluffy pillows.  She left us in there to settle my things.  We all sat on the bed whilst  Bell helped me to unpack my clothes into a small chest of drawers.

"You'll be fine here, Sky, Grandma will make sure you're safe"  Bell reassured me.  She folded the clothes neatly and laied them in rows in the drawers.

"What if he finds me?"  I panicked, how awful now if he dragged me away from this beautiful world.

"I won't let him find you traffic light, I promise"  Jimmy said resting  his hand on my shoulder.  I looked deep into his eyes.  I was lost when I looked at them.  He could have promised me a cruise to the Bahamas and I would have believed him right there and then.  I convinced myself that he had saved me already twice, that this time he would do it again.  Did he really know how much he meant to me?  I didn't want him to go that morning but I knew both he and Bell had to go back to school and behave as normal as possible.  As they left for school, I found it hard to swallow feeling a hard lump in the back of my throat.  I sat in my new room and looked around at how different it was to my own back home.  It wasn't clinical like mine had been but homely and warm.  Soft fluffy cushions, floral paintings, pink bunting across the window frames, cuddly teddy bears, children's story books and little jars of sweets.  Was this what Bell had grown up with?  Had I missed out on a normal life?  Or was this Grandma's Gerties Wonderful Kingdom,  I never had a Grandma like this.  Do they really exist?

I decided to wander downstairs on my own to investigate for myself if this was just a fantasy or not.  Walking down the narrow staircase array with beautiful tea cups and hanging pictures, I made my way to the back kitchen, where Gertie was.  I spotted her floral frilly apron wrapped around her waist.  She was making a cake.  A memory of my mother baking popped into my mind.  My mum would let me lick the bowl of mixture after she'd filled the cake tin.  She never knew I'd dipped my fingers in when her back was turned to look in her cake larder......her cake larder................oh my Lord the thought just made my stomach turn now.

Gertie looked up whilst she stirred her bowl of cake mixture.

"What do you fancy little Sky?, scones, cherry bakewell, French Toast,  chocolate cookies, anything you like?  Make yourself at home."  Her face was warm and inviting.  Was this woman for real?

"I..I ..don't know.  Would it be cheeky to ask?"

"Ask for what?"

"Cake.  I can't remember the last time I ate cake.  Dad said it was an over indulgence, not necessary, sinful, gluttonous" I didn't want Gertie to feel sorry for me.  I simply explained the truth.  Cake was never allowed.

"What sin is there in eating something that tastes this good.  Live your life Sky, you're still a child and should be able to enjoy your life like a child should."

"Does that mean I can have cake?" The thought of having chocolate cake was heavenly.

"You can have cake, cream, candy, whatever you like young lady.  I'm looking after you now and not your father."  and with those words she let me dip my finger in her bowl of mixture and lick it off.

The world was my oyster.  Whilst Belle and Jimmy were at school, I explored Gertie's world.  Grandma Gertie made me tea cakes, scones with Jam, hot chocolate and marshmallows.  I sat in the corner of the shop downstairs sucking butterscotch candy lollies reading short story books.  Later Gertie and I played board games in the cafe and listened to some favourites tracks of hers from the sixties.  I asked myself whether Belle had always had it this good, and why I had never experienced the same.  My home had always been quiet as Dad was working and mum was forever looking after the home.  There was little interaction between us........and least that is how I remembered it to be.

That afternoon Gertie left me for a short while to pick up Bell and Jimmy from school.  She bought them back to the shop to see me.  Turns out their day wasn't as wonderful as mine.  Little did I realise that me running away would cause consequences out of my control.  Bell burst straight through the door to tell me the news since Jimmy was too stubborn to.  My father had paid Jimmy a visit in class that morning.

"It was all too much Sky"  she continued "he just didn't stop demanding that Jimmy told him the truth.  He took Jimmy by the scruff of the neck to a spare desk at the front of the class...and then...then.. really it was so awful, you wouldn't believe........we all just sat on the edge of our seats .....and then ..then"

"THEN WHAT?!!" I interrupted getting impatient with her.  Bell had a tendancy to tell stories in a round about way.  This was all very annoying.

"You should have seen the look of dread on your father's face.  It was frightening.  He threatened Jimmy that if he didn't tell where you were he could do alot more damage"

"What do you mean 'alot' more damage, WHAT DID HE DO, BELL?" her delay in telling the days events were crippling me.  Jimmy stood by the window looking out, lost in thought.  It was like that day at the stream all over again when he couldn't say who had hurt him.  I hated it that he thought he just couldn't open up to me.

"He asked Jimmy to put his hands under his desk lid" she went on, "whilst he started to pile heavy books on top of the lid.  Each time Jimmy refused to give any information away on where you were, your father added another book, and then another and so on....until ...until, oh it was madness Sky.  No one in there right mind should have to suffer like that ...Jimmy's hands just kept getting crushed.  I wanted to say something but Jimmy made me promise this morning that I wouldn't"

"STOP IT !! STOP IT!!ENOUGH!! I'm fine Sky.  I'm ok.  It's not the end of the world.  I'll live."  Jimmy raised his voice, pleading with Bell to finally stop retelling the news.  But I'd heard enough.  The fact was I knew my father had finally got to Jimmy and that's what I never wanted to happen.

I walked over to the window to see for myself what pain my father had inflicted again.  Jimmy stood gazing out onto the street pretending to be preoccupied by the cars that drove past the shops.  He looked so distant now, like he did that day at the stream when I saw the scars on his back.  I pulled his hands out from his pockets and held them gently in mine.  His knuckles were so red and chaffed, from my father's wickedness.  I rubbed my fingers gently across them to soothe them.

"It's ok traffic light, he won't break me.  You're safe"  he whispered in my ear.

"But for how long?  You've seen what he's capable of now, he might try anything next"  I replied in despair, looking down at this sore hands.

"He'll never know that you're here, remember that.  He just needs a few days to calm down and then we will work on Operation Number 2."

"What was Operation Number 1?"I asked my brave soldier

"Breaking Free" he said "you suceeded all on your own" he smiled back at me

"Operation number two?" Bell interupted, she seemed very doubtful that Jimmy really knew what he was doing, yet I wasn't.  I never doubted him at all.

"Deceive the Enemy" Jimmy took my hand and held it in his.  I felt safe again.  I knew he had another plan to fool my father.  Nothing could stop him now.  He’d seen too much but rather than disclose his ideas to me, he continued to keep matters to himself.  I think he felt telling me would only cause me to worry.

Jimmy was always a closed book and it would have been a long time before he really decided to open up to me.  Now I was his concern so it meant it all attention was on me and away from him.  Perhaps he thought that protecting me would help shield me from learning my father's ways but my recent episode of torchure was not far from my mind.  It never would be.

I stayed at Georgous Gerties for months, living an idyllic existence.  My father had made no attempts to contact the police to find me.  We had heard nothing.  Each day Grandma Gertie spent time teaching me sums, literacy and poetry, then in the afternoon we played games.  She had built a routine for me in the shop so that I wasn't bored.  But how could I be bored in this wonderful kingdom?

One blissful afternoon I had spent reading by the window in my room, I left my book as Gertie called me downstairs.  A bell rung inside my head as it always did close to 3.30pm, Bell and Jimmy would visit after school.  I charged down the staircase with lots of energy ready to greet my friends, but suddenly tripped on the bottom step.  I was in darkness but then suddenly surrounded by candles lit from every corner of the shop.  Ahead of me appeared a three tier sponge cake filled with layers of fresh cream and strawberries, piled high with lashings of chocolate sauce.  I stared at the site in awe.  How beautiful it was.  The cake had twelve candles.  Twelve candles?

Oh my Lord!  My birthday!  How could I have missed my own birthday.........and then it dawned on me.  That was the time I was supposed to be calling Summer to arrange my special day, but then I was shut away......on my birthday!  Tears started to stroll down my cheeks as I realised what had happened but I had little time to wallow in misery as Gertie, Bell and Jimmy came towards me waving sparklers and singing happy birthday.  I soon forgot that my birthday was spent being shut away but that it was here with my friends instead.  I caught Jimmy Ice Cream looking at me as I was about to blow out the candles.  I knew that look very well by that point.  The look of reassurance.  I knew he had arranged for all of this to happen to keep me happy and safe.  He wanted me to know that I was going to have a normal life now.  That was the best cake I ever had in my entire life.  I will never forget it more so because I was so happy when I ate it.

I had turned 12.  The age when you think you're a teenager but really you're not.  I was so not ready for this age because of all the expectations that most teenagers go through.  I felt unprepared because now I had lost my mother and now my father, there was no one to really guide me.   Perhaps Gertie was going to fill that void in her own way.  But could I cuddle her and fall asleep on her lap like I used to with mum?  Was she going to answer questions on puberty, falling in and out of love or tell me where to buy my first lip gloss?I wasn't sure.  It was then I knew I was missing the one person that could guide me if I needed her to.  That night I asked Jimmy to find her.

Chapter 4

My sister Summer Veerasamy was everything I wasn’t. She was tall, elegant, beautiful and had a creative flair for fashion that just oozed from every part of her body.  She was making clothes from our mother’s sewing machine from the time she was just 10.  I don’t really know where she got the gift from but I have a feeling that my mother had something do with it.  Mum just loved fashion.  Dressing up and looking nice always made her happy so I think it just passed on to Summer.  Mum would regularly meet her friends for coffee during the day then visit the local independent designer store ‘Vanessa’s’.  Vanessa De Vere had three main clothes stores, all with her own designs.  Mum took Summer with her to Vanessa’s when she was just a toddler, then by the time she was 10, Summer was taking home clothes patterns to make on her sewing machine.  Almost nothing could stop her from making new designs.  Mum was forever buying her new material and soon Summer made clothes for all of us at home.  By the time she was about to go to college, my sister was working at Vanessa’s store on Saturdays as by that time, mum had built a great friendship with Vanessa.  They would go for coffee at lunchtimes to give Vanessa a break from the shop.

This all happened whilst my father was at work and for a long time he knew nothing about it, as clearly he would have destroyed the relationship that my mother had with Vanessa.  He never wanted Summer to study fashion thinking it was a waste of time and she would not earn enough money.  He never knew how talented Summer really was.  Her sewing machine was alien to him, something he never understood. Unlike me though, Summer was never afraid of my father.  She just listened to him groaning on about giving up her dreams, and continued to sew quietly in her room.  He was just so negative about it.  He wanted Summer to become a doctor and study medicine.   Her grades were extremely good at science but she loved fashion and that was the reality.  The truth was that Summer was so gifted at what she did, it would have been a crime to see her doing anything else but dad just couldn’t see that.  

The day that Summer received her place at fashion college, our father never spoke to her at all.  I remember it well.  Her reply from the college came first thing in the morning, delivered by Henry our postman.  Mother stood in the porch chatting to Henry about how excited she was that Summer was going to get her place before the envelope was even opened.  Henry handed the envelope to mother and she then called Summer down from upstairs. 

Both Summer and I rushed to the front door to greet Henry.  We were so excited about the change it was going to make to Summer’s life if she got this amazing opportunity.  I was so proud of her.  She had worked so hard even to get this far in her life.  I sent a secret prayer up to heaven whilst she was opening the envelope that all her dreams would come true.  My prayer was answered.  Summer gave us all huge hugs and kisses.  She even kissed Henry on the cheek, making him blush furiously as he laughed and commented on how he often loved this part of his job that bore great news. It says a lot that our postman was more excited about my sister’s future than our own father, of whom there was no sign.

I had to say that I didn’t really much care that father showed no interest in Summer’s career in fashion, because I knew it would never prevent her from pursuing it. She has always followed her dreams, which is what I loved so much about her. What bothered me was that he never even showed that he was even the least bit proud of her achievement. His persona was cold, almost statue-like. This moment in Summer’s life was so important but he was nowhere to be seen. 

Little did we really know that he had another plan in store for Summer that day.  He thought it was supposed to turn her against her dreams, but instead it made her even more determined. 

That morning was indeed strange. My father had left so early for work that we didn’t even hear the radio come on with his early morning news programme in the front room.  He would normally turn up the volume when it came on in a deliberate attempt to wake us up. On the day that Summer’s results arrived though, he had purposely gone before Summer and I were awake.  In a way I was glad because I knew it would only make my sister sad that he wasn’t supportive when she got her letter that day. As soon as Summer had got the good news, she shared it with her own friends, calling all of them straight away.  Nothing could have made her happier.  My mum was so pleased that she decided to plan a special dinner for us that evening.

Dinner time soon arrived.  Chicken in red wine sauce with new potatoes, green beans, sweetcorn and carrots.  It was Summer’s favourite meal which mum had  carefully prepared and arranged on the table for 6 ‘o’ clock. Even despite the dysfunctional nature of our family, it was still our custom to eat together, so we made sure to wait for our father to appear before we started. We sat waiting as the minutes ticked by. 

6.10pm…6.20pm…6.30pm…6.40pm…6.50pm………. the dinner was getting cold.  The three of us sat round the table and stared at our lovely meal.  Father had not come home. 

7.00pm…7.10pm. Mum took the plates and put them in back in the oven.  We all waited longer, hoping that he would show up.  My tummy was rumbling.

7.20pm…7.30pm.

Guessing that my father had deliberately decided to stay away, mum took the reheated food from the oven and told us to eat without him. By that time though, the food was dry and all of the joy had been sucked from the occasion, which of course had been exactly what our father wanted. We all picked half-heartedly at the food, none of us finishing it.

Clearly upset, Summer left the table and ran upstairs to our bedroom.  She slammed the door behind her.  I looked at mum who then proceeded to clear away the rest of the table. Feeling sorry for her, I got up and helped her, neither of us saying a word to each other. She knew dad wasn’t coming home for dinner that night. Once the clearing away was finished, I followed Summer and went upstairs to our room.

Two hours later, I heard the front door open and close as our father eventually returned home.

That night marked a change in my sister’s relationship with our father. As she cried herself to sleep, it was as if she made herself a promise that never again would she be upset by anything he did – a promise which I too would make myself, albeit many years and many abuses later.

I think I was probably too young at the time to understand  just what she was going through, but I did know that she never let it stop her from carrying on and being successful.  My sister had a lot of drive, and so just picked herself up and got on with things. She dried her tears and in the morning just carried on as normal. When she saw my father listening to the radio the next morning in the front room, she just greeted him as normal and went off to school.

Two weeks later as the summer holidays were about to approach and Summer was about to graduate from high school, events came to a head. My sister came home to find that her sewing machine had gone missing. This was her first real proper sewing machine that she had saved for from money she had earned from working at Vanessa’s. Mum had gone with her especially to buy it from a shop far away that was recommended by a friend. Mum had told her that the sewing machine was special because it would enable Summer to make beautiful clothes. Summer treasured it.

That day as she got back from her last day of the school term, her heart was broken. My father had hurled the machine out of the window onto a pile of wood and burned it in the back garden. It was like a horrible ritual. We both watched him from our bedroom window and could do nothing to stop him as we were too afraid of what else he might do.  Summer just stared out at the garden with a look of disgust on her face but she didn’t storm outside to question his behaviour or argue with him.  I think at that point she had made her decision to leave for college and never again come back home to stay for good.

****

My new life at Gorgeous Gerties was a completely different world to the one I had been living under my father.  I was so happy and wanted to share the joy of my new life with my beloved Summer.  She so deserved to have a wonderful time like I was having.  I don’t even know if she knew this kind of world existed. 

It was a Wednesday afternoon after school when Jimmy had popped by to see me at the shop.  Belle was still at music practice at school that went on for a double period so he had decided to come to Gerties without her.  We both sat in the front of the shop on the floor by the candy stall, eating a bowl of marshmallows that Gertie had handed to us when Jimmy turned up.  Jimmy made silly faces by stuffing as many in his mouth as he could then trying to talk, which invariably led to him spraying small pieces of soggy marshmallow in every direction.  He was good at making me laugh.  I think he made it his job to entertain me all the time.  I loved it.  Once the sweets were gone we just lay on the shop floor staring up at the ceiling, buzzing from the after-effects of all the sugar we had just wolfed down.  It was then that I decided to ask him to find Summer and bring her home to Gerties. 

Suddenly sitting bolt upright, he looked at me as though I was crazy. “What?  Are you joking?” he asked, believing I’d lost my mind.  “What good will that do?  She’ll probably tell your dad or someone who knows your dad, and you’ll have to go back to the pit of hell!”

“She won’t tell my father, trust me.  I know what I’m doing.  You just need to bring her to me here and I’ll explain everything to her when she comes.” I sat up and shuffled next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.  He didn’t seem to mind.

After sitting in thought for a few moments, Jimmy spoke. “You can’t tell her everything. You might scare her off, or she might even suggest you go back and sort it out with him. I don’t want you to go back. I don’t know what he might do.” He put his arm around me and hugged me.  I felt safe again.

“I’m never going back I promise, but we need to find Summer because she is due to finish college soon and if she goes back home he might take it out on her.  She knows what he’s like, she won’t want to be there now if I’m gone.”

And that was that.  I had given my signal to Jimmy to go off and find Summer. Reluctantly, he got up, pulling me to my feet as he rose. Together, we went to speak to Gertie, who agreed to help me. Shortly after, both she and Jimmy got into the Beetle and drove off to find Summer, leaving Belle and I in the shop.

As I watched them drive off from the shop door, I could feel my heart racing with excitement.  Part of me wished they would find her but the other knew it probably wasn’t the right decision.  She had been away from our father for some time and bringing her back in this mess might just set some real fireworks off.  The other part of me though yearned to have Summer with me.

My excitement at possibly seeing Summer again meant that the day dragged by. It reminded me of Christmas, when as a younger child, I felt that Christmas Eve seemed to last forever before Christmas Day finally arrived. As the evening came and drew past six ‘o’ clock, both Belle and I had not heard a word.  We had no idea if they had even succeeded. Finally a call came about ten past six.  It was Gertie, seeming half bemused by her journey to Summer’s college.

  

“Oh my dear Sky, it was all very funny.  We went to the address you gave us.  The campus over looked a field.  We were literally in the middle of nowhere!  But it was like Fort Knox…no way of getting in and then just when we were about to give up and come back, we met a girl called Jess coming back from a class.  She was making her way back to her room.  She said that she knew your sister when we asked but that Summer had decided to stay on her own in a room right at the other end of the campus.  Her room was tucked away behind the library, away from the other students.  She gave little away but wanted us to prove who we were when we asked where Summer was.  Once we had mentioned you and your desperation to see your sister she took us through the weirdest journey …………………down corridors, through rooms, across hallways, through gates….I started to get dizzy from all the nooks and ….”

“But did you find Summer?”  I was becoming impatient.  As much as I appreciated Gertie’s support, I wasn’t prepared to have to follow my own maze-like journey before finding out whether she had my sister or not.

“I’m getting to that point my dearest,” she continued, clearing her throat so she could carry on the story.  I raised my eyebrows and Belle looked over at me with a quiet giggle, well aware of her Grandma’s inclination towards long-winded story telling.

“Anyway,” she continued. “We finally came to the library in the Chanel Wing where there was every single fashion book you have ever seen in your life.  I couldn’t help but stare at all of the beautiful books.  Oh Sky, they were all so amazing.  Then Jess took us between two tall book shelves where there was an old oak door.  She knocked in a special way and the door swung open gently.

“Your sister was sitting quietly in the corner of her room buzzing away at a sewing machine.  My eyes were fixated on the speed she was sewing. She was working so speedily yet with so much precision.  Jimmy and I entered the room as Jess left and closed the door behind us.  Once we had explained your trauma, she demanded that you be brought to her at the college to stay there but Jimmy said point blank no!  Then Summer began to get quite feisty with Jimmy but I calmed her down. She trembled slightly, I felt the shock of what your father had done had upset her somewhat.”

“So when can I see her?  I want her here with me,” I demanded. I so desperately wanted to have my sister with me that nothing else mattered.

“But my dear, she has chosen to stay away.  She feels coming back will just make matters worse for you.  It would just tempt the beast even more."

The palms of my hands began to sweat holding the phone. Why did Gertie and Jimmy go all that way only to decide so quickly that they weren’t going to bring her back. I couldn’t wait for Gertie to complete her story so I finished it for her by very abruptly complaining of a stomach upset.  My eyes welled up as I struggled to overcome my disappointment that I would not be seeing my sister again anytime soon.

Belle tried her best to comfort me that evening. I just wanted to mope for the rest of the day alone in my room and not talk to anyone but she refused to leave me by myself. To cheer me up, she suggested we go down to Gerties’ kitchen and fix ourselves some banana milkshakes with ice cream floaters topped with caramel and Oreos, which she knew were my favourite. I watched her whilst she whizzed the blender, adding all the ingredients together in one and making a not inconsiderable mess as she went along. I wondered whether Gertie would appreciate this, as she always liked her kitchen to be absolutely spotless. When she finished, we drank our milkshakes instantly to feel the sugar rush, then Belle, without clearing up, decided to take out her music diary so we could try out some new songs together.  I think she felt this would lighten the mood but I wasn’t entirely convinced until she led me out of the kitchen to Gertie’s secret world. 

We walked through a herb garden to a shabby barn which I had always thought just contained Gertie’s unwanted furniture. When Belle opened the door, the light from the back of the kitchen shone through to reveal a very old Blutner style grand piano.  It was so amazingly beautiful. 

Once those doors to the barn were open there was nothing that anyone could do to stop Belle and I.  

We had entered another world.  We took an old tea towel from Gertie’s kitchen and dusted off the top of the piano and the ivory keys that had cobwebs lain inside.  Belle perched herself on the stool that was tucked under the piano to begin playing some the songs from her diary. The music flowed over us like a forever running stream.  It consumed us both and at one point I sat next to her to play some keys of my own. I had no idea that I had rhythm in me but it just came from nowhere.  I had managed to adapt a couple of songs from the music diary and put them in a contemporary style. Belle and I couldn’t stop giggling at one point as the melodies were so empowering.  We sat either side of each other on the stool playing piece by piece two songs by Gertie called “Lonely” and “You didn’t care about me”. 

It was as we were halfway through ‘You didn’t care about me’ that the diary suddenly slipped from the top of the piano and fell to the floor beneath the stool, dropping photographs everywhere.   We quickly jumped down to gather them up and as we did I gasped for air, finding it hard to breath, as there in front of me I caught sight of what looked like a picture of my mother, at least my mother in her younger years.  She was dressed in a rose pink tutu with polka dot ribbons in her hair and a sequinned top.  There were other young girls all dressed similarly but in different colours. Even though she was standing in a parade with other acts, I just knew it was my mother.  Grabbing the picture instantly I sat back on the stool leaving Belle to gather the others while I gazed longingly at it in my hand.  I couldn’t let this picture go as I wrestled with a torrent of questions that flowed like a tsunami into my head.  Why did Belle have a picture of mother in her diary?  Why was Gertie in the picture as well? Had Gertie and my mother known each other? Most importantly, if she had, then why hadn’t she said anything to me all the time I had been staying there? What possible reason could she have for keeping things from me?

I said nothing to Belle, but decided to keep the picture. Even though I knew it was wrong to steal it from Belle, I had to get to the bottom of this mystery without her accidentally alerting her grandmother.  Besides, I felt that Belle wouldn’t have missed it as she had so many others.  So I sneaked it in my pocket whilst she wasn’t looking.  Our music session had finished so we left the barn and returned to the main shop to find that Gertie had returned, but without Jimmy.

With the disappointment of Summer choosing to stay away and the shock of Gertie’s hidden relationship with my mother, I felt that my world was a dark place yet again. Why hadn’t they all been honest with me?  Seeing Gertie again that evening was very weird.  Knowing that she had kept something like this from me made it difficult to act normally around her. At the same time though I didn’t want to upset her.  She was looking after me and taking care of me in a way that I’d never known in the whole of my life.  Who else could I turn to right now?

Once Belle went home, Gertie brought a hot chocolate up to my room whilst I prepared for bed.  She lit a couple of candles to warm the room up and drew the curtains.  Not much was said between us.  I could only think that she thought it was because of my disappointment about Summer, which, of course, it partly was. I tried to stop my expression from giving me away by turning on my side away from her to face the window by my bed. After a short while pottering around my room, she knew I wasn’t up for talking and, reading the signals, she simply left the room without a word.  When she had closed the door, I waited until I heard the sound of her footsteps descending the staircase before reaching for the top drawer of my dressing table and grabbing the photo of my mother from the music diary. 

Laying on my bed, I simply stared at the photograph. If only the people in the picture could come to life. If they could only talk then I might get answers to my questions. It was all very puzzling.  Tearing my eyes from the photograph, I stared up at the ceiling, looking into the blank space.  Somewhere out there was my mum.  Somewhere out there was Summer. Eventually I gave in and fell asleep.  Tomorrow was another day and I had planned to get some answers of my own.

The following day after school Belle came over on her own, without Jimmy. We went back to the barn and played with the piano, going through Belle’s music diary and singing some of the songs we had enjoyed the day before.  The piano’s music helped me to relax a little although in the back of my mind there were visions of Summer.  Belle could tell instantly that my mind was elsewhere.  She stopped playing and asked me what was wrong but I decided to keep everything to myself this time….at least until I was absolutely sure of what I intended to do.

Belle informed me that afternoon that the school newsletter confirmed that my father was away on leave for a month for personal reasons.  There was an acting head teacher in his place called Mrs Rouelle, who was also the school’s new French teacher.  Everyone really liked her ‘modern’ way of teaching which meant letting the kids listen to French music and eating French food during her lessons. She also taught her classes to sing French songs, causing much merriment when a particular member of class was picked to do a solo performance. Overall most people thought she was bubbly and lots of fun….everything my father wasn’t. 

As I listened to Belle talking about Mrs Rouelle, I suddenly realised that my dad’s absence was a blessing in disguise, as it would give me the chance to return to my home so that I could find some answers.  The question was whether he had actually gone away or was he still staying at the house? 

Suddenly sensing that my attention was elsewhere, Belle stopped talking and stared at me expectantly.

“OK dreamer, what are you thinking?” she said.

I told her.

“…WHAT?  Are you mad?” she exclaimed, nearly dropping the piano lid on our fingers.

“You’ve got every chance of getting caught.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  No we can’t risk him finding you because we don’t even know if he’s gone away or not.” She got up and started pacing around the piano.

“But that’s what we need to find out first.  Then once the coast is clear, we can get straight in there.  I want to go through all the things in mum and dad’s bedroom.  There must be something I’ve missed which will lead me to know where mum is and why Summer won’t come back.”  I tried hard to reason with her.

“But why do you have to have them back?  You’ve got me, Jimmy and Gertie now.  We’ll look after you.”  My darling Belle.  She had become so attached to me.  I was so lucky.

“I know and I’m eternally grateful but I need to have my family back. Oh Belle, I love living here with Gertie, and yes it is more wondrous that I could ever imagine, like every child’s dream, but…………but it’s not my home.  My home is with mum and Summer.” As I said this, all of the barriers I had built up since running away from home came crashing down, unleashing a torrent of emotions.

Tears flowed freely down my face as I sobbed. Seeing my distress, Belle stopped her pacing and crouched down next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders.

“Belle, I’ve got to go back and find out why this has all happened and why my father has chosen to act like a monster for so many years.  Please come with me, don’t let me go on my own,” I pleaded, hoping she would change her mind.

“Oh Sky. Whatever are we going to do with you? Of course I’ll come with you. But please, please, promise me that if there’s even the slightest sign of him, you won’t try to go into the house.”

I nodded, and gave her a hug. Belle and I were friends for life now, no one would stand in our way. 

Chapter 5

The thought of going back home left a lump in the back of my throat.  The question was whether I could clear that lump and just see past what was ahead of me.  I just need answers and there was absolutely no way I was going to have anything answered at Gerties.  It was true that I had friends with me and plenty of attention. After my discovery in the barn though I felt more than ever that I was being deceived. 

Belle and I left for my old home in the middle of the night, at a time when Gertie was fast asleep and not likely to hear our footsteps down the staircase through her purring and snoring.  Belle often compared her grandmother to a cat, as she would sleep curled up in a ball and make noises like a Persian cat. It was cute. It also meant that the chances of us getting heard were very slim.  We rushed out close to midnight, as Gertie was fast asleep by 11.  Belle had stayed over on the Friday night as planned.  We had mentioned to Gertie that we wanted to work on some new songs in the barn on Saturday afternoon and do some of our science project together.  She was pleased that Belle and I found comfort in each other and was so excited that we were spending time with the piano writing new songs and singing.  I think she felt it took my mind away from being at home and that I would soon forget.

How could I forget that my father tried to starve me?

One thing I had not considered when I came up with the idea of going home was how I was going to get there. Thankfully Belle had thought of everything. She had enlisted the help of Jake, a boy in one of the older years at school. He helped out in her music class at school and often conducted the singing groups. More importantly, he had just passed his driving test and had volunteered to drive us to my home. 

I instantly fell asleep on the way to the house as I sat in the back listening to them both discussing their theories on music.   I had every intention of staying awake but my mind drifted off into a deep sleep.  Whilst I was asleep my world was always different.  …it was calmer and happier. Whenever sleep came, it was like shutting the curtains on a rainy day or the dab of a wad of cotton wool on a wounded knee. 

I must have been asleep for a while, as when I was woken by Belle we were at the house, which stood stark and forbidding, its outline darker than the hue of the night sky behind it.

“Sky. Wake up. We’re here”  I was being nudged gently in the side by Belle.  Waking out of my slumber, I opened the car door and stepped onto the pavement, all of the peace from my sleep now gone. I stared up at my home with a sense of bitterness.  Chills came all over my body – ‘like someone stepping on your grave’, my mother had always said.

Still, I didn’t let my fear stop me from going in.  I had been waiting for this moment.  It was time to get the answers I was looking for. 

Looking at the house, I could see that my father was indeed away. All of the lights were off and his car was gone. Good. Going back inside would be a lot easier. 

Looking back at Belle, I saw her saying something to Jake through the car window, who nodded and then pulled away.

“Jake is going to wait for us around the corner,” said Belle as she joined me in front of the house. “I’ve told him that we’ll flash him three times with this torch if we get into any trouble.”

She held up a long black rubber torch, grinning at me as she did so. “I have to say this is much more exciting than most of my Saturday nights. Next week, perhaps we can try breaking into the town museum?”

“Ha ha,” I said. “Come on, follow me.”

Belle followed me as I crept round to the side of the house and slowly and quietly opened the back gate. Belle followed me in as I entered, looking for all the world like a cartoon character as she tiptoed with exaggerated steps through the shadows.

“Stop messing about,” I hissed. “This is serious.”

“Sorry,” she hissed back. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

I knew she was, and I loved her for it. Without her by my side, I would have chickened out at the front of the house. Just the thought of going back inside alone made me feel sick. Still, I wasn’t going to tell her that. Despite all her bravado, I was fairly convinced that Belle would have much preferred being tucked up in bed at Gertie’s.

Stopping as I got to the back wall, I felt Belle bumping into me.

“Watch it will you,” I hissed. “You nearly knocked me over.”

“Well it would help if I could actually see anything,” she replied. Then: “What’s next then?”

“First, we climb onto the she roof. Then we climb up to my bedroom window.” I felt, rather than saw the look she was giving me. My bedroom window was a good 20 feet above the shed roof, accessible only by a bare and rickety looking trellis that stretched up the wall, the climbing roses that had once adorned it having been stripped away by my father a long time ago when they had threatened to become out of control.

“Whoa. Hold on there horsey,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror. “We’re climbing up THAT? Oh bloody hell Sky.”

“Well what did you think we were going to do? Go next door for the key? Come on, we’ll be fine. That trellis is stronger than it looks.”

In actual fact, it wasn’t. It was absolutely as old and rickety as it looked, having been on the front of the house for as long as I could remember. With my father’s lack of skills in DIY, it was highly likely it had come with the house when he had bought it, which was over 20 years ago.

Luckily it was too dark for Belle to see how old it was, otherwise I doubt she would have climbed it. Truth be told, knowing its true vintage, I would have refused too, had I not been so desperate in my quest to get inside the house.

Taking a deep breath, and without looking at Belle, I hoisted myself on top of the water barrel next to the shed and climbed onto the roof, motioning Belle to follow me. Reluctantly, she joined me on the shed roof and then watched as I slowly worked my way up the trellis, picking the parts that I knew were safest.

“Come on,” I said. “You’ll be OK if you go exactly where I went.”

“I’ll tell you exactly where you can go,” grumbled Belle, putting particular emphasis on the word ‘exactly’ as she reluctantly started to follow me up the trellis.

We had climbed maybe two metres when the part I stepped on gave a loud crack, my foot dropping suddenly as the wood gave way. Grimacing, in case anyone had heard, I quickly grasped a section of trellis above my head, pulling myself to safety.

“Not that bit, though,” I said to Belle, taking my turn to try to make light of the situation.

“If I end up falling off here, I’ll kill you” she said through clenched teeth. “I don’t know why I listen to you. I could be at home, in bed, but oh nooo, here I am, climbing up some knackered old trellis, up the side of your psycho father’s house and…”

“Shhh!” I whispered sharply. “My next door neighbour’s coming out!”

Sure enough, Mrs Huckle, my father’s next door neighbour, opened her back door, the light from her kitchen flooding out from behind her, illuminating not only her garden but also part of my father’s too.

“Diddykins. Where are you? Here Diddykins, come to mummy. Come on my darling. Mummy’s tired.”

“Diddykins?” I heard Belle trying hard to stifle a giggle from below me. “Please don’t tell me that she’s calling her husband in from the shed or something?”

“Shhhh! Diddykins is her cat. Stay still so she doesn’t see us.”

Although Mrs Huckle’s garden faced my father’s garden, her house was too far away for the light from her kitchen to reach the wall on which Belle and I were hanging, like two monkeys scaling a ladder. Still, I didn’t want to take any chances. Mrs Huckle was a nosey cow and would be bound to kick up a real commotion if she saw me. Nothing got past her, even with a man as secretive as my father. Indeed, she had been the first to spread the news of my mother’s sudden departure when my father had kicked her out, telling everyone from the local shopkeeper to the milkman about the shouting and the squealing tyres of the car that had taken her away.

After being summonsed several times, ‘Diddykins’, Mrs Huckle’s demonic looking ginger cat, came running out of the darkness and slunk his way artfully through her legs and into the kitchen. I watched as she started to close the door and then stopped, staring into the darkness towards my father’s house. My heart thudded in my chest. Surely she couldn’t see us. Apart from the distance between the houses, there was also a large tree at the end of my father’s garden that must partly be obscuring her view of us.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Mrs Huckle stopped staring and closed her door. Shortly afterwards, the kitchen light went out.

Taking a few seconds for my vision to become re-accustomed to the darkness, I started to climb upwards again, Belle following me, both of us taking care where we put our hands and feet.

After another minute of climbing, we reached the window ledge outside of my bedroom. Balancing on the trellis, and praying quietly that it would continue to take my weight, I started to try to push open my window.

Fortunately, my bedroom window was one of three in the house that didn’t have a proper latch on it, otherwise we would never have been able to make our way in. It was a sash window, with a latch on the sliding part that was meant to marry up with a corresponding catch on the half of the window. Thanks to my father’s lack of DIY skills, the latch and the catch had never matched up properly, such that it had never been possible to lock the window properly.

All the same, it was an effort to open the window. The sliding half was heavy and there wasn’t much of a gap for me to slide my fingers under.

Finally, after a lot of struggling, I felt the movement of the window opening slightly. Wriggling my fingers into the newly-widened gap, I pushed the window upwards so that there was enough room for Belle and myself to get in. Climbing over the ledge and into my room, I looked around. It was as I had never lived there. All of my things had gone. What was left was just white walls and wooden floors. Every sign of my life there was gone. No pictures, bed, teddies, books, cards from friends. Nothing. Even my photos of me and Summer had been removed. The floor gleamed like it had been polished over and over again. Motioning to Bell, I opened the door onto the landing so we could walk across to my parents’ room. After listening carefully for any signs of my father, I crept across, closely followed by Belle. Reaching the bedroom door, I tried the handle. Locked.

I’d expected this. Ever since my mother had left, the door to what had now become solely may father’s bedroom had always been locked. I thought hard about where my father might have hidden the key. I had only ever seen him put the key into his trouser pocket. If he ever hid it anywhere else, I had never seen where he put it.

I wasn’t about to be foiled now. I had come this far and I wanted answers. Now confident that the house was empty, I ran downstairs to the cupboard where my father kept his few tools. Opening the door, I searched until I found what I was looking for, a large hammer, with a hammerhead on one side and a claw on the other.

Running back upstairs, I ignored the horrified look on Belle’s face and battered at the door, first denting it and then leaving large splinters as the area around the door handle started to give way. Seeing a gap starting to appear, I turned the hammer around and used the claw-shaped part to prize the door open.

As the door swung open, I looked inside. 

The room was as I remembered it to be, frosty and dark with charcoal coloured sheets on the bed and the curtains barely open.  There was very little furniture as my father never wanted my mother to have a dressing table or a bedside lamp.  Just a wardrobe with a chest by the bottom of the bed that mum used to put our towels in.  I perched myself on top of it for a moment to think about where on earth I could look for any clue to where my mother was.  I felt cold and it was like my father was still in the room.  The bed had not a single crease on it, the way he liked it.  He had always made my mother iron the bed sheets, task she despised but nevertheless did to a very high standard, no doubt as it helped to make her life easier. 

Belle was feeling uncomfortable and wanted to leave but I was determined to stay.  I walked over to the wardrobe and began searching through my father’s clothes for a hint of a clue.  There was no trace of my mother left at all now in their room, my father having discarded everything that belonged to her. The vase that she had bought from the summer country fair a few years back, the pictures of Summer and me with mum outside the boutique on Summer’s first day at work, her jewellery box, her hat boxes that used to be stacked in the corner.  Everything had been stripped away even though I remembered them being there not long before I disappeared. 

I shuddered as I realised that both she and I had been completely erased from the house, as if we had never even existed. I wondered what he had done to Summer’s room.

Rummaging through dad’s clothes was one of the weirdest experiences of my life.  All of his jackets and trousers were in colour order and pressed neatly, hanging in rows inside the cupboard.   I checked every pocket I could see, even inside the lining of his waistcoats for anything.  Moving over to the drawers beside the bed, I decided to try opening them but they were both locked. 

“What exactly are you looking for Sky?” asked Belle. She was obviously growing more and more uneasy, all signs of her earlier enjoyment now gone.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Something, anything, that will help me to find my mother.”

“Look, I know how important finding your mother is to you, but really, if you don’t know what you’re looking for, maybe it’s time to call it a day. Let’s get out of here Sky before he gets back.”

“Belle, you said it yourself. He’s away for a while. I’m sorry, but I’m not leaving until I’ve found something that will help me.” As I said this, I suddenly laid my hand on a hard metal object, stashed inside one of his shoes. The key to his drawer! Unknown to my father, I had once seen him putting it there. At the time, I was very young at the time and had almost forgotten until tonight. Withdrawing the object from the shoe, I found that it was not one key but two, joined together by a metal key ring.

Taking the keys out, I went over to the drawer and fitted the first one it into the lock. I turned it, feeling the lock click as I did so. My heart beating faster for the second time that night, this time with excitement, I pulled the drawer out. It was empty. I locked the drawer, feeling like my stomach had been punched. I moved over to the other drawer and opened it with the remaining key. 

As I unlocked it and started to pull the drawer towards me, I automatically knew that this time I would find something. The drawer felt heavier and did not slide out as readily as the first one I had tried. Instead, it came slowly, becoming wedged after just an inch of movement, as if something was jamming it. I closed it and then tried tugging it open again, but again it moved just an inch and then remained tightly stuck. I loved a challenge and decided in my frustration to tip the whole of the chest on its side then kick the drawer open, ignoring Belle’s exclamation of disapproval – whether it was it was at the noise I was making or the mess I was making, I was never to find out, as as the chest tipped over, a bunch of letters cascaded out, sliding and fanning out onto the floor. Belle gasped. “Sky! Could this be what you’re looking for?”

“Give me the torch, quick,” I said, my voice shaking. Taking the torch from Belle, I turned it on, keeping the beam low so that it wouldn’t show in the bedroom window.

They were still sealed up and addressed to me.  Immediately I noticed Summer’s writing on all of them with little pictures of flowers and stars that she had drawn in the corners of pretty pink envelopes. The postmarks in the corners of each one spanned from the time she had left for college until fairly recently. I clutched the letters to my chest. Summer was so creative in everything she did.  There must have been more than fifteen letters that I had never seen in my life.  I was so overwhelmed at seeing them, that a tear slid down the side of my cheek. Belle walked over to me and knelt down beside me to look at the letters.  She put her arm around me and smiled lovingly:

“Oh wow Sky, how wonderful. You see! She does think you are special after all.” She took one and sniffed it “..and they’re even scented with a lovely spray.  I wish I had a sister that loved me that much.”

“But why wasn’t I given these?  Why did dad keep these from me?  I’ve had months away from Summer and never believed that she wanted to see me.  Why would he do this to me?  I don’t want to be apart from her now, she is all I have left.”  The tears just kept flowing from my eyes as I thought through how long it must have been that he had kept all these letters from me. He knew how much I would have loved to have heard from her. Why was he determined to keep us all apart?  I struggled with the idea in my head so much that I could barely stay in the house anymore. Belle suggested that we leave the way that we came but I wanted to walk out of the front door as I knew this was the last time I would probably be here.

We both tiptoed down the staircase and made our way to the front porch.  As I came down stairs I heard the laughter that once was mine and Summer’s echoing in the hallway. The sound pounded in my head over and over again. As I turned to look back I saw how clinical and white everything was, the darkness punctuated by the moon that was now shining brightly through the clouds. My father had cleared away every last sign of us from the house. The pictures down the staircase of our holidays away had disappeared, the dried roses and lavender in small hanging baskets that my mother would place in the porch to make the house smell beautiful were all gone; the coat rack with mine and Summer’s raincoats and wellies, our age difference meaning that hers were always much larger than mine; umbrellas; clocks; even our beautiful old rocking horse, a gift from our kindly elderly ex-neighbour, Mr Petersen. Mr Petersen, or Frank as he had insisted we call him, had doted on Summer and I as young children. A skilled carpenter, he had made the horse especially for us and had insisted that we take it from him, even though my father, as in all things, didn’t want us to have it. It had been my mother who had talked him round. I smiled sadly to myself as I recalled all the happy times that Summer and I had had playing on that horse, the faraway imaginary lands we had ridden to. Now both the horse and my sister had gone, as had I.

I didn’t dare to venture into the kitchen as I knew I would see the reminder of the cake cupboard, the scene of my imprisonment at my father’s hands. Instead, I left through the front door with the blissful remembered tones of my mother’s humming ringing in my ears.  How I missed her.

Belle and I walked out, carefully and noiselessly closing the door behind us. I kept the letters tucked tightly underneath my arm. Right then, they were the most precious things to me in the whole world. If my father suddenly appeared, it would mean dropping them all but part of me didn’t care if I had to face him again. However, it wasn’t my father that was to make me drop the letter, but rather the shock of the sight that was about to confront me.

As we made our way down the garden path, keeping carefully to the shadows, I walked unexpectedly into something that hadn’t been there before, stubbing my toe on it. I had been so absorbed in keeping the letters safe that I hadn’t noticed the tall sign that was planted on the front lawn. As I stepped back, and went to rub my foot, I looked up at the same time as a shard of moonlight split through the clouds. The light hit the front of the sign, making it clearly legible.

‘For Sale’

I stumbled backwards as I read the two words. The enveloping darkness when Jake had dropped Belle and I off earlier meant that I had missed it. Belle was just behind me and nearly fell over my legs.  She managed to grab one of my arms and hoist me up properly so I could get back on my feet.  As she did I could feel the anxiety rising inside of me. I started to panic and could feel my breathing getting faster and faster.  There was nothing I could do to stop it.  Belle heard me gasping for air and brought me back into the porch so we could sit down on the step.

We both gazed at the sign in despair. I could tell from Belle’s face that she was as shocked as me. In my surprise, some of the letters had fallen across on the lawn so I started to pick them up.  Belle helped me and we decided to make our way back to Gertie’s.

We found Jake parked in a side street around the corner from my father’s house. As he drove us back, I sat silently in the back seat, struggling to comprehend the enormity of the latest in my father’s catalogue of spiteful acts.

On arriving back at Gertie’s, we managed to sneak back in and get up to my room without attracting attention. Gertie was dead to the world, her quiet snores faintly audible through my bedroom wall.

Both Belle and I fell asleep almost straight away. However, whilst Belle fell into an apparently deep and restful slumber, my own was fitful, my head buzzing with everything that had happened. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shut down, and my dreams, such as they were, were almost a virtual re-run of the worst aspects of my life over the past few months. As I tossed and turned, trying desperately to find peace, a thought came into my head that continued to nag at me until I eventually lost consciousness. Something told me that my father had plans for me somewhere along the way.  But could he find me?

*******

“Wakey wakey sleepyheads” sang a cheery voice. Feeling like I’d only slept for five minutes, I struggled to open my eyes, my vision a fuzzy blur as my eyes tried to adjust to the bright light streaming into the room.

As I turned towards the direction that the voice had come from, my vision still blurry, I slowly made out the shape of Gertie as she fluttered around my room, opening the curtains and picking up our clothes, which we had scattered on the floor after arriving back last night.

“Good morning,” I mumbled. I desperately wanted to go back to sleep. Not just because I was tired, but also because I knew that, in just a few seconds, the thoughts of my father and Gertie’s secret friendship with my mother would come flooding back into my mind.

“It’s a lovely day out there girls,” trilled Gertie. “I’ve got a lot to do today and I would love it if both of you could help me.”

My eyes now clear of the effects of sleep, I looked out of the window and saw it was a clear blue Saturday morning, the sun touching my face with a warm glow.

Like most retired people whose routines had been shaped by decades of getting up for work, Gertie was always especially alert in the mornings.  She would wake up at 6am to bake bread and pick up her paper, then do her normal hour of cleaning. That morning she had decided that she was going to clean the barn out and give the piano a good going over. Her request for help meant we had to get up and out as early as possible.

Knowing how much Gertie hated wasting the day, I slowly sat up and swung my legs over to the edge of the bed. My head felt light from lack of sleep as I stood up, causing me to sit back down again for a moment in order to compose myself.

“Are you OK dear?” asked Gertie, a look of concern on her face. I knew that this question was as much about how I’d been towards her the night before as it was about me sitting back down on the bed. I said nothing, but just smiled weakly and nodded. I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet about the picture I had found or about why she had never mentioned that she knew my mother.

Gertie smiled back at me, genuine pleasure on her face as she took my reply as an acknowledgment that everything was OK between us and that whatever had been bothering me the night before had passed.

“Good,” she said. “Good. Now, hurry up and get ready girls. I’ll fix you both some breakfast and then we’ll get started.”

As Gertie left to go down to the kitchen, I stood up once again and made my way to the bathroom.

The letters from Summer were safely tucked under my mattress away from Gertie’s eyes.  I was going to choose my moment to read them but didn’t actually feel I was ready just yet. I was still getting over the shock that my home had been put up for sale. It was an obvious sign that my father was preparing to build a new life for himself. Oddly, even though I had grown to dread him and had run away to escape from him, the pain of what he was doing cut into my heart like a shard of ice. I had known for a long time that he didn’t like me, even if I had never really understood why. But deep down, a part of me had clung to the belief that he loved me. After all, weren’t all parents supposed to love their children no matter what? What had I ever done to him to make him hate me so much?

I wondered what he had done with all of my things. No doubt they too had been discarded, like all my mother’s things after she had gone.

I felt my eyes welling up, and sat, stock still on the edge of the bath, big fat tears rolling down my face as I stared into the distance.

Despite the friendly warmth of Gertie’s house and the comfort of being there with her and Belle, I felt so alone. All I wanted was a normal loving family. Instead, my mother had gone, my sister didn’t want to see me and my father…

I thought again about my father. Even though he had disappeared, I found that I didn’t care for his whereabouts. Although I hoped he was far, far away, I had a nagging fear that it wouldn’t be long till he found me at Gertie’s.

“Sky dear, breakfast,” sang Gertie, her voice floating up the stairs like a wave of musical notes, wafting airily in the streaming sunlight.

Drying my eyes, I washed my hands and face and got dressed, before heading downstairs to the kitchen where Belle and Gertie were sitting at the table, working their way through a pile of warm croissants stacked in a pile on a plate.

Trying to put the previous day’s events behind me, I managed to eat two croissants before heading out to the barn with Gertie and Belle to start cleaning up.

Gertie had brought an array of cleaning tools, dusters, mops, gels and sprays with her. Obviously, this was going to be a serious day’s cleaning. It was quite comical to see how seriously she took it all like she was on a mission, a General in a coral headscarf giving orders to her troops in the fight against dust and grime.

As in everything she did, Gertie managed to somehow make even cleaning fun. She chatted away as she uncovered each new long-forgotten item. Everything seemed to have a story attached to it somehow, and the time passed quickly as we worked and listened. In spite of myself, I found myself enjoying her company as I always had.

As we rummaged through boxes of old cooking utensils, crockery and other miscellaneous items that she had collected since the shop had opened, it became obvious that Gertie never liked throwing anything away. I had already guessed this about her from all of the wonderful furniture and knick-knacks in her home – in a way that was what was so wonderful about her.  She collected objects of desire and meaning to her, regardless of their value, something I had never noticed too much of in my own home.  Dad would rarely keep anything that held any memories, it was always mum that tried hard to save them in our house.  By the time Belle and I got well and truly stuck into our cleaning, we were head to toe in old records, collections of tea pots, postcards from Gertie’s touring days and even a collection of beaded dresses that she performed in found in an old trunk.  I enjoyed every moment of looking into Gertie’s past and hearing her stories, although I wished with all my heart that just one of them could have been about my mother.

Hours soon passed and after Belle and I had managed to wipe and dress the windows of the barn with candles and books, we noticed that Gertie had a plan in mind for the rest of the day.  She asked us to help her bring in a couple of small square tables with cloths and some folding chairs to rest near the piano.  Whilst she polished the keys, we cleaned up the tables.  She rested a couple of candles on each then went off to fetch us some of her traditional cool lemonade with a twist of ginger. ‘Gertie’s Glorious Ginger Lemonade’ was her own special recipe which Belle raved about.  Whilst Gertie was gone, I noticed Belle looking at the piano with a longing to play it.  I could see the yearning in her eyes and I felt captivated by it so I persuaded her to play, knowing that Gertie would be a while preparing our drinks.  She opened the lid of the piano and took out her diary from where she had last left it.

Sitting on the stool to play along to one of the songs in her diary, I watched her take control of the piano, envying her as her long, slender fingers glided elegantly across the keys to create a beautiful melody. I sat and listened happily, feeling myself drifting into another world as she played.  She nodded at me, beckoning me to come over. I rose from where I was sitting and joined her. I was ready to let out all the emotions I was feeling. As I let them go, the words flowed along with them

“You’ve been around for such a long time

I’ve got my eye upon you

And even though you struggle to see me

I couldn’t wish for anyone else.

When you’re alone and thinking of her

I wish your mind was onto me

She couldn’t be that precious to you

That you had to be so lonely

Baby so lonely

I feel so lonely

Baby so lonely

I feel so lonely

There was no real reason behind how it happened that day but I managed to just come out with the song and it happened instantly.  Like a flash.  I didn’t need to write it in the music diary first as the words just came into my mind with the melody straight away.  Belle was so inspired by my vocals that she played and replayed the same tune on the piano so that I could produce another verse, which proved just as easy.

We had so little time left together

Everyone else could see the signs

It was so obvious forever

We were so destined to be so fine

When you’re alone and thinking of her

I wish your mind was onto to me

She couldn’t be so special to you

That you have to be so lonely

Baby so lonely

I feel so lonely

Baby so lonely

I feel so lonely

I heard it all before the way you talk to me

It hurts me more and more coz all I feel is lonely

We both laughed and cheered as we finished off with another chorus.  It sounded so melodic that if we hadn’t heard Gertie on her way back, we were likely to sing it all over again.  Belle was so excited she gave me a hug. Then, grabbing the pen from inside her diary, she quickly began writing the lyrics I had sung to her.  Later, we drank our lemonade with Gertie at one of the tables and sat quietly to listen whilst she told a couple of stories about the old records she had collected in the sixties.  It was then that she revealed her plan for us.

“This is my gift for both of you” she started

“What gift Grandma?” asked Belle, clutching onto her diary.  She began taking a couple of Gertie’s postcards and stuck them inside the back.

“Don’t think I’m too old to hear what goes on in here my lovelies.  You’ve been making beautiful music and I would be silly not to help you both nurture that talent.  You can have a place now to rehearse and call your own.  Call it what you will……..music café, studio, rehearsal space.  The fact is it is yours for always and you can sing whenever and whatever you like.”  She spoke with such assurance, I knew that all this time she had actually heard Belle and I, when I believed we were playing in secret. I didn’t care though.  She was giving us a chance to play whenever we wanted and this thought truly made me happy.  It was making me so happy when I was singing.  I couldn’t explain it.  It was just there.

“Oh Grandma, you’re so wonderful.  Thank you!  Sky and I thought you were thinking of opening this up for customers.  We were worried we weren’t allowed to sing in here anymore” Belle said, looking over at me. 

“Not at all Petal.  You use it whenever you want and if you need any help with any tracks, just ask.  I really don’t mind.  It’s been a long time but I’ve still got a few tunes in me yet.”  Gertie giggled, her cheeks went all rosy.  Bell gave her big kiss and she turned a plum colour. 

“But what about you Sky?  Are you ok with this? You’ve gone all quiet.  It’s not too much is it?” Gertie asked.  She began clearing the glasses and collecting them onto the tin tray.

I looked back at her speechless.  What could I say?  No one had ever done anything like this for me before. I couldn’t remember the last time I had even been given a gift, let alone something as wonderful as this. I was going to be able to have my own little studio to sing in, my own music paradise for just Belle and I. There were no words other than thank you but they didn’t seem enough. I felt guilty as I remembered how angry I had been with her. Maybe there was a good reason why she had never told me about my mother. This old lady had taken me in and had treated me straightaway like I was a member of her family. I couldn’t stay angry at her.

I went over to Gertie and hugged her so tight I was nearly sobbing into her dusty apron.  She stroked my hair and hugged me back, giving me an even tighter squeeze.

“It’s ok my poppet.  You, especially, deserve it. You’ve been through a lot.” Looking into my eyes, Gertie’s cheery face suddenly became serious. “I want you to know you’ve always got a home here Sky. I hope you know that,” she said, her voice catching slightly.

Then, her normal cheery expression returning once again, she beamed, cheering out “Now, sing to your heart’s content and let the good times roll!” 

Suppertime soon arrived so we quickly made our final touches and went back out to the shop to fetch some pictures to put up in the barn.  There were three large prints wrapped in bubble wrap that we had noticed hidden behind the counter for the past few days.  One by one, Gertie brought them in and opened them up for us to see her choice of amazing singers.  Aretha Franklin, Elvis Presley and The Beatles.  We helped to put picture hooks up and nail them to the walls near the piano.

With a final sweep and dust, we were almost there, adding just a few more last minute touches.  We decided to put some tree lights along the ceiling and connected one of Gertie’s record players in one of the corners of the barn on a stand full of her records.  With the evening drawing close, it seemed an ideal opportunity to switch on the tree lights and light some candles by the window to see the new room light up.  It was so incredible to see the piano in all its beauty. As I looked at the magical scene around me, I realised how lucky I was to be part of all this.  Our job was done. 

Gertie had already returned to the kitchen to put the supper on so Belle and I decided to switch off and lock up the barn.  As we were about to go, we heard the sound of the record player come on.  It began to play an old tune from the Beatles. ‘Heyyyy Jude, don’t be afraid, take a sad song and make it better…’. I froze. ‘Hey Jude’ was the track that I remembered my father used to sing to Summer and I when we were little to send us to sleep. My mother used to tell us how he used to rock us to sleep then lay us down in our cots when we were babies. I had always wished I had been old enough to remember it, as it was probably the only nice thing he’d ever done for me.

Although the music was coming from the barn, I couldn’t understand how the song was playing. Belle and I had turned off everything inside the barn, the record player included. We had even double-checked everything before locking the door.

Looking towards the door I noticed a shadow moving by the window, hovering and moving closer towards. Terrified, I watched as it came closer and closer…

Chapter 6

The shadow came towards us getting taller and taller but there was no sound besides the music that played.  I felt a chill come over me very suddenly and motioned to Bell that we should leave as quickly as possible but as the shadow drew near I recognised the softness of his face, his blonde locks and silver eyes....my Jimmy was back.  It had been days since I'd seen him after he had gone to find Summer but returned without her.  Gertie had said he hated the fact that he couldn't be there to help and that he didn't want to be a disappointment.  How could my Jimmy ever disappoint me?  I think it was just difficult for him to accept defeat when he thought he was going to win the conquest.  He hated losing.  Coming back without Summer meant that he hadn't beat the challenge but the fact was I was just pleased to see him.  Bell sensed we needed some time alone so she made an excuse to go back to the house and lay the table for supper.  I was quietly pleased I was now alone with him.  I'd missed him so much despite my head beìng full with working out the mysteries that my family had left behind for me.  Now it was just Jimmy and I, how Iiked it always. He moved closer to me and brushed the palm of his hand over my cheek, then pulled my waist closer to him and put his hands around my hips.  He felt so warm that my chill was completely gone in an instant.  But for a rise of goose bumps on the back of my neck I felt a little on edge as I couldn’t quite understand this strange sensation I felt between my thighs.  The feeling was odd but pleasurable and as he bent over to kiss my cheek I felt that strange feeling again come and go.  Jimmy took my hand and walked me over to the piano where he sat down on the stool and pulled me onto his lap.

" You sounded like an angel.  I didn’t know you had a voice like that"  he began playing with my hair twisting curls between his finger tips.

"When did you hear me?" I asked embarassed.

"Gertie let me through a while ago but when I heard the piano playing I didnt want to disturb you.  Ive been sitting on the wall outside just listening in.  You and Bell sound great together.  " he started bouncing me on his lap like a baby.

"Well Gertie's letting us rehearse in here now as much as we want. So I dare say you can come back and listen as much as you want now"  I smiled at him. 

"Are you sure you want me around?" he asked, and then pushed me gently off his lap.  He got up and walked towards the window display and started picking up a few books to browse through them but paid no

 real attention to them at all. 

“What do you mean? Of course I do silly” I walked over to him and touched the back of his arm.  He turned to face me        .

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t bring her back for you Traffic Light.  I really tried, she just thought her coming back was going to make things worse.  Fuel the fire.” He looked so upset with himself and genuinely sorry.  How could I ever be mad with him when all he did was try and help me.

“It’s ok.  I know you tried your best but I think there’s a lot more to all this than we both know.” And with that I reached my arms up around this neck and held him closer to me.  I felt so complete when I was with Jimmy.  We both knew no one was there and for a moment it seemed the perfect time so he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my lips.  He was so gentle that I didn’t stop him and for the first time knew that our relationship was suddenly changing.  The feeling between my thighs had emerged again and was growing.  I blushed as he kissed my forhead and cupped my chin in his hands, pulling me closer to him so he could stare into my eyes. 

“Don’t worry I haven’t given up.  You know me Sky, I’m gonna  sort this all out and we’ll find your mum.  Don’t worry.” He reassured me.  We both switched the lights off and locked the barn up to return back for Gertie’s tasty supper of toad in the hole with lashings of onion gravy.  I was starving after our long day in the barn and I couldn’t think of anything more I’d rather have to eat.  Jimmy stayed till much later than usual and after our kiss in the barn, I really didn’t want him to go.  My feelings for him had suddenly become different. 

Months had swiftly gone by without any discussion between Bell and I of our discovery at my home.  The letters remained tucked under my mattress and I had decided to also leave the photo from the music diary in the same place.  We had thrown ourselves straight into creating our new music Kingdom where we were both King and Queen of our barn palace and made songs for our people.  Everyday was a new journey for us as we explored new techniques and sounds for our songs. 

Bell was so passionate about her playing that it became very easy for me to put lyrics together.  We began adapting songs from the diary to create new ones of our own.  Gertie often came in to listen when the shop wasn’t as busy and she would sit in the corner of the barn quietly without saying a word.  It was her way, she said of not interfering but still being there for us.  I wouldn’t have minded her passing a few comments but Bell was very much in control of what we were doing and it may have thrown her off if Gertie began to be critical. 

Gertie soon became my private tutor and pillar of strength that guided me.  She was the aunt I never had and the grandparent that I longed for.  My days were far from dull like they were at school and home.  They were no longer regimented but I had a simple routine of fun lessons in the morning with Gertie and afternoon time singing with Bell in the barn.  Jimmy also came to visit me after school again when he could.  Bell was happy for him to sit at the tables and listen to us whilst we played so long as he didn’t make noises or disturb us.  It did make us both laugh when she took it all so seriously so Jimmy often teased her by hiding her diary whenever she left the barn to fetch a drink.  She wasn’t amused.

So my days felt balanced again with little news of my father except that he had gone away and was replaced by a substitute head teacher at the school.  Bell and Jimmy showed me the newsletter which gave information that he had suddenly become ill and had to go away for a while.   None of us were convinced by this of course, but were pleased that we had some breathing space for a while. 

As Jimmy and I were seeing each other practically every day and spending more time together, it became easier to open up to him.  Bell had band practice after school and as she didn’t feel too well in the afternoon decided not to come over but go home instead.  Jimmy turned up about 5ish to tell me so we both took a walk down to XXXXX park instead.  We walked passed the shops and up a long lane that was hilly, which had tall sycamore and oak trees either side.  There was a gusty breeze that day blowing through them as the Autumn was nearly over leading to Winter.  I had done my usual stunt of coming out dressed for summer and noticing that I felt the chill, Jimmy took off his padded, denim jacket and wrapped it round me.  Once we arrived he climbed up a huge Oak tree and tooted like an owl at a squirrel to scare it off.  He liked playing silly games.  I think he liked to amuse me more than anything.  He jumped down and so we headed for a couple of rope swings that hung from trees in a dip staying there to talk.  We swang side by side, talking about his day at school.  I looked at him and I couldn’t lie to myself.  It was great just being alone with him and I finally felt at ease after so long.

It was then that I decided to tell Jimmy the truth about the letters and the trip Bell and I had made back home.  Jimmy nearly fell off his swing when he heard the news.  It wasn’t so much the letters, it was the lies and the time it had taken for me to tell him that astounded him.

“I just wasn’t sure what to do about the letters, but I thought if I told you at least we could read them together….” I tried to reason with him whilst he jumped off the swing and landed nearly flat on his face.

“…TOGETHER?  You’ve decided now after everything that we can do this together?  Where do you think I’ve been all this time!” he shouted “How could you keep this from me?  After I went all that way to try and bring Summer back to you?  Didn’t you think I deserved to know?”  he got up and started walking back towards the lane to head to the shop.

“WAIT! WAIT! Jimmy!” I kept calling over and over, pleading and  hoping he would turn back but he didn’t.  In desperation I eventually ran up and caught up with him.   Taking his jacket off, I lunged it up into the air until it covered the top of his head, throwing him off balance so he stumbled and fell to the ground.  I tried to stop him from falling but it was too late.  He did look silly.

“What the hell are you doing?  You stupid fool!” he cried, managing to pull the jacket off and get some air. 

“I’m sorry Jimmy but you wouldn’t listen.  This is not easy for me, any of this.  I’m not ready to do this on my own and that’s why I’m telling you now.  I’m sorry it’s taken me this long but I haven’t been in the right place to deal with it.  Please understand” I bent down to the ground where he was and helped him get back on his feet.  He lifted up his jacket and wrapped it back around me again. 

“Where are the letters?” he asked, taking my hand in his.

“Back at Gerties, in my bedroom under the mattress.  There must be more than 15 of them Jimmy that Dad has never let me read.  There must be a reason for it.  Why would he stop me from having contact with her?” 

“I don’t know but we’re going to find out.  Let’s head back now whilst there’s still time and see.  Gertie will be making dinner now, she’ll be distracted whilst we read them.” He squeezed my hand tight and led me back to the lane for our way to Gorgeous Gerties.

Chapter 7

I fixed myself a milky drink to calm me down and help me to go back to sleep.  Milk was the obvious answer.  My mum always used to put chia seeds and cardamom powder in it to give it flavour.  When I was feeling low she would warm the milk up and leave it by my bed to cool down.   She would stir it whilst blowing the top of the cup, then let me drink it up in one go.  This was one of her rituals which is the reason why I loved her so much.  I had no spice of course but I had Gerties’ chocolate flakes, so I dropped it into the hot milk, then disappeared to the toilet whilst they melted in the rim of the cup.

When I returned to the kitchen, I could feel a presence behind me but as I turned around could only feel draught from the kitchen window like it had been opened.  Seeing nothing, I proceeded to drink my cup of milk straight up in one go imagining my mum’s spices instead of the flow of chocolate was soothing me.  Little did I realise that the milk was infused with a broken sleeping pill.  My father was back.

I fell to the floor instantly as the room became hazy, my cup fell from my hand and smashed into tiny fragments onto the kitchen tiled floor.  I blacked out.

My mind wandered through the blackness, back to the forest that I remember I saw my mother.  I followed the same journey over the bridge towards the house with the white picket fence.  There I saw a building instead which looked like the same office that Jimmy’s father worked with for the newspaper.  I was led over the bridge into the office quarters where inside several people were hard at work, typing and making phone calls.  They were all working on news stories for the paper.  At the top of the main office was a similar office closed off from all the buzz that was beyond it.  I peeked through the window on the office door and saw my mother dressed smartly in a ladies suit typing away at the desk.   I had never seen her type with such speed, nor had I seen her work with such enthusiasm.  She typed away busily whilst she drank coffee.

The picture in my mind grew hazy again.  With a sore head I opened my eyes slowly to find I was lying in a confined space.  Infront of me were three large leather buckled suitcases piled one on top of another inside the top of a carriage compartment.  I had been left to sleep off my drugged state in the top of a bunk bed.  There was no one else there with me.  Stumbling to reach the door, I managed to get to my feet and slide it open.  People were passing through the narrow corridor that was outside.  Seeing the window ahead, I realised that we were all moving at quite a speed, faster than a car, more like a train.  A TRAIN? A TRAIN?

My heart beat faster once I realised I’d been left on a train.  My father had put me on a train!?  The other passengers were a mixture of French and English speaking tourists reeking of stale body odour and brie cheese.  It could have just been that I wanted to vomit after my sleeping pill cocktail.  I don’t know but it was vile.

There he was coming towards me arm in arm with a lady.  Her frame was tiny, smaller than mine, with bony shaped hips and shoulders.  She carried herself upright, sticking her pointed breasts outwards through a lime green floral A line dress and a co-ordinated flared green coat.  She had straw hat pulled almost over her eyes.  As they approached the compartment I was in, I backed away quickly and got back in the bed sliding the door shut.  As I waited for them to enter I thought what world was beyond me now.  I had left a secure and happy existence at Gorgeous Gerties to be back with dad.  I started to bite the inside of my cheek feeling scared and nervous with how to deal with it.  Blood suddenly seeped from inside my mouth and dripped outside the corners of my lips.  The door opened.

“Oh look Garjan, she’s bleeding, let’s wipe her up.  She must be in pain”.  The woman took out a handkerchief from her purse and wiped my mouth gently at both sides.  I wasn’t in pain, I was in shock.

“We’re nearly there.  Let’s gather her things and make our way out to the right exit.  I’ll take these cases one by one.  You stay with her and make sure she doesn’t move”.  My dad felt no emotion for the state I was in and so proceeded to pick up the cases, luring them out of the compartment and into the corridor.  As he disappeared for a moment and I was left with the lady in the carriage, I recognised her from her horse tone to her voice and her mole on her left cheek.  It was our French Teacher from school XXXXX that Bell and Jimmy spoke so highly of.   Dad called her Beau.  I remember having her once as a replacement teacher for science when our teacher caught the flu one winter.  She made our lessons fun by handing out chocolate bars half way between the session.  She thought everyone deserved one after they had recited the meaning of photosynthesis, which she herself thought was hard enough to pronounce.

I remembered her being kind, not cruel.  Why was she with dad?  Without enough time to think, the train came to a halt.  My dad dragged Beau and I out onto the platform to wait with our cases for a lift at a taxi rank.  The whole time, I remained silent.  What more could I do?  I had no way of escaping now.  As sore as my head was, I managed to make sense of the platform name which read ‘Lille’.  ‘Lille’?  Christ almighty we were in France.  I came over all panicky with hot sweats to which Beau noticed so she handed me a bottle of water that was in her bag.  I gulped it down, almost choking.  It was dawning on me that my dream of staying at Gerties had now been shattered.

Whatever drug was in my bloodstream had caused a dizziness to prolong for the complete journey in the taxi.  It lingered around my head and as the drive wasn’t particularly smooth, I felt my stomach gurgling and swirling at the same time.  The water Beau had given was mid way between digestion and working its way back up.  I did my best to control it for fear that my dad would strike me if I threw up in the taxi. 

It must have been more than half an hour later that we arrived at our destination.  I couldn’t bear to care at that stage for I’d lost the will to live.  The drugs were making me lose the sense of where I was.  Beau held onto me to escort me into what looked like an old farmhouse with a chapel adjacent to it.  They were charcoal grey colour, with rose and aquamarine stained glass windows.  The main door was like a stable door, buckled shut with a large barrier.  Once my father rang the bell outside, the barrier lifted up automatically.  Beau lifted my arms up, as I could barely feel my feet.  She dragged me through to a main office.

The walls looked like they were closing in on me.  I couldn’t tell whether this was just the effect of the drugs or because I felt trapped.  I wished Jimmy could take me away from this.  I shut my eyes hoping when I opened them it would all just be a bleak nightmare and I would be back with my friends.  Instead I saw a nun.  Dressed in a loose black dress, pleated at the neck with a woven belt holding a rosary.   She was frightful looking with thick black rimmed glasses, her eyes like black beads poking through the lenses.

“Ah, I’ve been expecting you, how was your journey?” she asked, peering over her glasses at me.

“Not good for one of us I think.  She’s had a long trip and she’s very tired.  If you don’t mind, we might let her retire home soon.  Can we just collect her particulars then we’ll be off” my father was eager to leave.  Despite the fact that he had created my state but now he was just embarrassed by it.

“Of course, that’s no problem.  I can ask Sister Anne Finnegan to bring your induction papers and uniform for St Antoines”.

The strange looking nun disappeared swiftly from the room like a bat into the night sky.  We waited for ‘particulars’ to arrive and since dad was always impatient, he decided to wait outside.  He evidently wasn’t bothered about he decisions he was making about my life.  How I resented him so much to the point that I decided to bite more of my cheek, taking a large piece of flesh from my mouth.  Blood poured from my lips over my chin.  I was numb from any pain though.  Beau was overcome by what she saw and began to panick at the sight of blood dripping onto my collar.

“What on earth are you doing?, you mustn’t do that, you know your father will see you’ll get it!”  She took the lime scarf from around her neck and began mopping up my chin. 

“This is all for your own good.  Don’t hate us for this.  You’ve bought most of this on yourself young lady” she dabbed the sides of her cheeks quickly, and whilst the scarf got drenched in blood, she tucked it swiftly away into her coat pocket before we were approached by Sr Anne Finnegan.

Sr Anne was a very petit nun with a pointed nose, pimply skin and strong Irish accent.  Her witch like features put me on edge even more.  She handed over the forms and a bag of uniform to Beau.  She wasn’t the least bit startled by the fact that I looked scared out of my wits.  Was she used to terror-stricken girls being brought to this convent?  I had no idea.  What I did know was that I was expected to act in a certain way.  She outlined a long list of expectations for each pupil at the convent:

Be punctual

No talking during lessons

All break times must be spent studying

Mass will be every morning at 9am

Grace must be said before each class and every lunchtime

Respect must be given to all teaching staff

Bad behaviour will be severely dealt with.

And so my world dramatically changed instantly.  I had been carted off to St Antoines in Lille, a private all girls convent school where nuns lived on the site and taught the girls rigidly to strict guidelines.  I resented every day I went with a passion.  My father had taken me to stay in the centre of Lille, a grimy industrial metropolis which had a grey image.  I stayed in a pokey apartment with my father and Beau right in the hub of Lille my sweetie emporium at Gorgeous Gerties, the relaxed atmosphere, the laughter of Gertie, the sweet melodic playing from Bell and above all my hero Jimmy was nowhere in this god forsaken world.

The apartment we stayed in again resembled my father’s lack of compassion.  It was bleak and shabby with bare walls.  It was barely aired as my dad didn’t want the windows opened or the main lights on.  He was always like this at home as well.  They had put me in the dimly lit box room at the back of the apartment.  Dad barely spoke to me, I think if he did he would feel he would have to explain why he had dragged me across to France.  Was I really that uncontrollable that I had to be treated like this?

I spent most of my time locked away in the box room trying to find reason with all this insanity.  Months had passed before I could summon the courage to write a letter to Bell in the hope that she would read it.  Hopefully her mum Helen would try and find a way to help me ……..if they could get to me.  I had befriended a girl called Angelica at the school whose father worked in the post office in Lille.  She offered to take the letter for me to get posted off to Gerties.  As I put pen to paper alarm bells rang in my head.  If I ran away, dad would just come and find me and hunt me down.  He claimed on our journey to Lille that he had followed Belle after school one day and although she had taken various diversions, he stayed with her the whole way and she suspected nothing.  “It was like following Dorothy in her red shoes” he sniggered.  I hoped at the time that he would choke as he laughed.  Poor Belle, how was she to know she’d been followed.

My letter transpired to be a true picture of how miserable I had become.  If I read it through, it have reduced me to tears so I did my best not to.  At least this way I had a way of reaching Bell and Jimmy even though they couldn’t reach me.  Angelica sent my letter without hesitation or without asking.  She was a good friend.  She wasn’t Bell but she was kind to me.

Weeks had drifted past without any news back from my letter.  I had spent my normal time at the convent doing my utmost to ignore what was being taught.  Surely someone could realise that I wasn’t supposed to be there.  I couldn’t focus on any of my lessons but instead spent most of my classes writing chapters in my diary that I hid under my text books.  A day to day account of the monstrosities of my world.  My father had unpredictable mood swings.  Every day I was treading on egg shells trying anxiously to avoid him.  He was like the cranky troll in the billy goat gruff story.  Day to day he taught English at a local school in Lille whilst Beau taught basic French to younger students that were my age.  But he seemed withdrawn and very distant.  His only contact with me was when he chose to spend an hour with me every day after school grilling me for my incompetence in maths and science.  I didn’t quite reach the ‘A’ standard he required, so he threatened me with strange physical tasks.

Once I had to kneel in a dark corner of the front room facing the wall and recite maths and physics equations.  My knees became so sore that I could barely stand.  He often beat me over the back of my head with the wooden heel of his shoe if I made a mistake.  The trouble was the more he beat me, the more I cried and made more mistakes.  It was a vicious circle.  I couldn’t quite understand what good he thought he was doing my bruising my head. 

I cried for hours alone in my room.  Beau would stay close to my door listening to my sobs, but she did nothing else.  I think she was afraid to.  I never seemed to be able to please him and one day he seemed more upset than anything.  I returned from school one Friday afternoon with my school report.