Tell Me Why, Mummy: A Little Boy’s Struggle to Survive. A Mother’s Shameful Secret. The Power to Forgive.. David Thomas
every area of our lives – of Reg as much as of me – even when sober. She dictates when to go shopping, planning holidays, what to buy for the house, what to watch on television and even what time she and Reg go to bed. He just falls into line. Later in my life I realize that most men wouldn’t have put up with it but Reg does and manages it well.
For me, there is the same pressure to do exactly what she says. Mostly, this means doing chores and keeping time. When playing out I often go to Andrew’s and even venture as far as the estate. Mum isn’t too bothered where I go as long as I am back on time. If I am close to returning even slightly late, I panic and get really stressed out. I would rather run until my lungs are on fire than be late home. If I am late, I never hear the last of it and she will restrict future playing out times.
In the house, dealing with Mum is about doing the jobs she asks of me. From an early age I have a daily cleaning job. Fridays, for example, means cleaning the cooker. I don’t mind, except that she doesn’t seem to do it at all, so it’s never a simple wipe down but always requires hard scrubbing. She also makes me clean my shoes every day on newspaper on the kitchen floor and as I get older she shows me how to iron my clothes.
Later as a teenager I will have to iron all my own clothes and perform many domestic chores in the house. No doubt she is teaching me this so that I can do jobs in the house that she doesn’t have to do. But it does help me to develop valuable skills and teaches me to be independent.
Despite her overbearing behaviour, Reg is happy to put up with it, and I am too young to complain or think any differently. Besides, in the beginning it creates something I have never experienced before: a proper family life. We are living as a family unit in a nice house.
But it can’t last. Cracks are starting to appear. My first awareness of this is an odd intimation that Reg has quickly lost interest in being a father. Mum’s drinking is starting to increase and her behaviour when drunk is just as erratic as at Calder Bridge. I am soon beginning to realize that although I thought I had left the bad memories behind, they have actually followed me to our new house and new, worse ones are about to be created.
Mum once told me that life had been difficult for her with Dad and I think that may have influenced her decision to come to me for physical affection. I have no recollection of them being affectionate with each other or Dad being affectionate to me. Most people have at least one good parent. I now have three bad ones: an absent father who shows me little love or affection, a mother whose demands for something more than affection are to rise again and inflict themselves upon me, and a stepfather whose behaviour towards me is about to change in a way I could never have expected.
I have no-one to turn to, no-one to confide in and help me through the dark times. I have to deal with all that is coming my way on my own. As a young boy this becomes a torture for me. It turns me into a lonely, disturbed, angry child, which in the months and years to come is to have serious long-term consequences for me and those around me.
The first twelve months at Ludden Vale with Reg seem like a kind of paradise to me. Reg has provided us with a beautiful home and he and Mum seem to get on well. He is a practical man, having worked with his hands all his life, and is always doing something to make our home a nicer place. On one of his monthly visits Dad even says that he owes Reg a debt of gratitude for providing his son with a home. At the time he is absolutely right: we are able to experience life in a new, richer way, through the various seasons. And because of the beautiful location, our quality of life is as much to do with the landscape as the house.
Our first autumn and winter at the house are different from anything I have experienced previously. Bonfire night is the second best day of the year after Christmas. With all the woodland around our house, we go plotting for wood to make a bonfire in the garden. There is always an endless supply to create huge bonfires and all the neighbours join us for Bonfire Night. Mum goes wild, making food and loves being hostess, making traditional bonfire food like hot dogs, toffee, parkin and flapjack – an absolute feast. I find myself stuffing my face, as it is so much better than our usual plain diet. Mum has bought a big box of Standard fireworks and Reg puts on a cracking show. Because of the size of the garden, we can accommodate all the different fireworks – sparklers, rockets and standalone fireworks as well as Catherine wheels attached to the bird table. The garden is a blaze of colour and sound and it’s a truly magical night.
Winter is always the best season at Ludden Vale. Living on the side of a valley, we have the perfect landscape for sledging. We have snow in the first year, and Reg’s grandson Andrew and I spend hours getting soaked going up and down the hillsides. We can’t afford a plastic sledge like some of the other kids but that doesn’t matter because Reg has made us a sledge. In fact, I am very proud that we have a ‘dad’ or ‘granddad’ who cares enough to want to make us a sledge. It is concocted from old pieces of wood with plastic runners on the bottom. It works perfectly well and if it gets damaged at all, Reg will just fix it back up again.
Christmas Day is the best day of the year, especially as everyone makes a big effort and I feel like they’ve put me at the centre of the occasion. Mum not only doesn’t drink excessively but she really pulls out all the stops when it comes to presents. She never spends a lot of money but she will take small gifts and wrap them up and make sure I have a sizeable pile. I soon work out that I’m not getting a lot of ‘proper’ gifts and that some are quite small but it’s still a lot of fun to open them. Reg and Mum work hard all morning and in the afternoon we have a fabulous traditional Christmas meal. On two occasions Grandma comes for Christmas and just sits in a chair without moving all day.
Living in the house is wonderful, but no amount of holly or bonfire toffee can mask the real issues that are about to smash the dream.
* * *
The first major change I notice is in Reg. He seems to have lost interest in me and has become offhand and surly with me. It is as if he doesn’t like me any more and doesn’t want me in his house. This isn’t good, especially as I’m at an age where I’m still keen to learn about the world around me. I like to ask questions and Reg doesn’t want to answer them. He’s supposed to be looking after me when I come home from school as he has now retired and Mum is working full time, so when I come through the door he’s the first person I see.
‘Guess what we learned today, Grandad,’ I say excitedly, taking my raincoat off and hanging it on a hook by the front porch.
Reg sighs wearily, but otherwise doesn’t reply.
Undaunted, I carry on. ‘We learned all about rainfall. Do you know where rain comes from, Grandad?’
He has already sat down by the fire and now has his face buried in the local evening paper, checking the race results.
‘It comes from the sea and then the sun heats it all up and that’s called evaporation and then it all turns into clouds and then when there’s lots of clouds you get condensation and then you get rain!’ I finish triumphantly, but Reg hasn’t even bothered to look up, let alone reply.
The penny soon starts to drop: he’s not interested in what I’ve learned at school. In fact he’s not interested in anything I have to tell him. It soon becomes obvious that he just wants to do the bare minimum in his dealings with me. His sole interest is in Mum. I know that he and Mum have an odd, imperfect relationship but they certainly seem to love each other. I, on the other hand, am surplus to requirements as far as Reg is concerned. And soon after this I discover just how surplus to Reg’s requirements I really am.
One day, I’m playing in the house after school and watching television. Out of the blue, Reg starts shouting at me, saying I have done something wrong. I have never experienced this before from him. He has never shouted at me. I have seen him shout at Mum in an argument but never at me. I’m still not sure what I’ve done but from this time onwards one