Chapter 7
THIRTY-EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS AGO
‘I’ve already said no to him so why the hell would you think I’d say yes to you?’
Dad’s voice was low and controlled but the rest of his demeanour conveyed his anger. His face was red and a vein pulsed on his forehead as he narrowed his dark eyes at me.
‘Because I don’t understand why you’d say no.’ It was hard to keep my voice steady when I was fuming with him. He’d pretty much ignored me my whole life and now he wanted to control me?
‘He’s too old for you,’ Dad snapped.
‘We’re both in our twenties.’
‘You’re barely out your teens—’
‘Twenty-one.’
‘And he’s nearly thirty.’
‘Twenty-nine.’ I released an exasperated sigh. ‘So we don’t need your blessing.’
‘Then why ask for it?’
‘Because Cliff’s a decent man and it’s the right thing to do.’
‘You’re not…’ He glanced down at my stomach and I instinctively pulled my cardigan around me.
‘No!’
‘Then why are you throwing your life away?’
‘I’m not!’
‘You are! I know what he is.’
My stomach lurched. Did he really know? No! How could he? I was the only one Cliff had ever told.
‘Bloody freak!’ Dad said, his lip curled up.
Mustering some strength from goodness knows where, I pushed back my shoulders and stared at Dad defiantly. Freak? What a disgusting word to use. How dare he?
‘You know nothing about him. You’ve lived next door to him all his life and you’ve barely exchanged two words. I am marrying Cliff, whether we have your blessing or not.’
‘Then you can pack your bags and get out of my house.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes!’
My own dad was kicking me out? What had I ever done to him to make him hate me so much? Tears burned behind my eyes but I refused to let him see how hurt I was so I turned my pain into strength.
‘With pleasure.’
That seemed to inflame him further. ‘You’ve got ten minutes,’ he yelled.
I slammed the lounge door behind me and ran up the stairs, pausing at the top as Marianne’s bedroom door opened.
‘You’re marrying Cliff?’ she asked.
‘Yes, and if you think I’m making a mistake, you can save your words.’
‘Escaping from this godforsaken place could never be a mistake. My advice is to get away and stay away.’
She held my gaze, tears clouding her eyes, before she closed her door.
I wanted to ask why she hadn’t taken her own advice but there was no time.
Dad’s mood was foul and I could guarantee he wouldn’t let me have a second longer than ten minutes.
I dashed into my bedroom and pulled out a battered old brown suitcase from under the bed.
Mum had given me it for extra storage and I’d kept my childhood belongings in there – books, games, dolls and soft toys.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered as I tipped the contents onto my bedspread. ‘No room to take you all.’
I grabbed my jewellery box and a dressing table set – hairbrush, comb and mirror – which had belonged to Mum and wrapped them in one of my jumpers to protect them.
I added my favourite childhood teddy – a gift from Mum – and the book I was currently reading as well as a couple of other favourites in which Mum had written me messages, before moving on to my wardrobe.
I didn’t have many clothes and I could have packed them all if I’d been given my full ten minutes but I heard Dad thundering up the stairs.
‘Time’s up!’ he bellowed.
‘I’ve only had five minutes.’
‘My house. My rules.’ He appeared in the doorway. ‘Last chance to change your mind.’
I didn’t want it to end this way but there was no way I could stay here.
‘I’m marrying Cliff.’
‘Then you’re on your own.’
‘Can I just have…’
The flash of Dad’s eyes told me it wasn’t worth finishing the sentence.
If I asked for that extra five minutes, I was likely to leave with nothing at all.
Clothes were easily replaced, especially when I made most of my own, but my cherished items from my mum couldn’t be and it was essential I left with them.
I snapped the suitcase clasps shut, grabbed the handle and left my bedroom without a backwards glance.
Dad was so close behind me as I descended the stairs that I could feel his breath on my neck.
Mum’s sewing machine was set up on the dining table, but Dad grabbed my arm as I reached for the lounge doorknob.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To get my sewing machine.’
‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He shifted round me to block the doorway. ‘Time’s up.’
‘Please! Mum gave it to me.’
‘Then you have a choice to make. It’s him and no sewing machine or us and the machine.’
What sort of choice was that? I didn’t need to imagine what the future looked like if I stayed because I’d already seen my sister living it.
I couldn’t turn into Marianne, trapped between these four walls, friendless and alone, fearful of the outside world.
I needed to get out and live and Cliff had offered me the chance to do that.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to think a better offer would come along.
Pushing down the lump in my throat at the thought of abandoning Mum’s sewing machine, I met Dad’s glare and held my head high. ‘I choose Cliff.’
‘Then you’re dafter than you look. Don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong.’
‘I won’t need to because it won’t go wrong.’
‘It will. Mark my words.’
Tightening my grip on the suitcase, I walked out of the only home I’d ever known.
Not that it had felt like a home for many years.
Since Mum died, it had felt more like a prison and I couldn’t be more grateful to Cliff for giving me the key to escape.
I wasn’t daft like Dad said. I was very clear about what I was getting into and it was a hundred times better than the alternative of staying and festering, feeling the life steadily sucked out of me.
I strode along the lane, my head held high, my eyes focused on Cliff’s car parked at the end.
There was no need to look back. Dad and Marianne were my past and Cliff was my future and I’d made the right decision, choosing him over them.
But I couldn’t help myself. I turned for one more look at the cottage that Mum had loved so much and pictured her trimming the hedge, dead-heading her beloved roses, chasing me around the garden, and it all felt too much.
Tears rained down my cheeks as I sank onto my knees.
Next moment, Cliff was crouched beside me, his arms around me.
‘He threw me out,’ I cried.
‘I’m so sorry, but it’ll be all right. I’m here for you. I always will be.’
And I knew he would. Cliff was kind, supportive and reliable, just like my mum had been. When the tears subsided, Cliff helped me to my feet and put my suitcase in the boot.
‘It’s not very heavy,’ he said.
‘He didn’t give me time to fill it.’ I shuddered as I relived that horrible moment. ‘He wouldn’t even let me take Mum’s sewing machine.’
My voice cracked and Cliff held me once more. I loved that he didn’t say I’ll buy you a new one, knowing how much Mum’s machine meant to me.
‘Mum’s things…’ I said. ‘All those memories… I had to leave them behind.’
‘The things, perhaps,’ Cliff said, ‘but not the memories. You’ll always carry them with you. All you need to do is close your eyes and you’ll see your mum.’
And with that one statement, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I’d made the right decision. Cliff knew me and understood me. Dad and Marianne didn’t and, frankly, it was vice versa. Cliff was my family now and I knew he’d do everything in his power to make me happy.
‘Ready to go home?’ he asked.
‘Ready.’ New home, new life, new me.