Page 54 of A Family Affair
‘The first time, I was about six. She picked me up after school and, as we walked home, she explained that daddy was making her very sad, and she was fed up of fighting all the time. So she’d packed our bags and we were going on an adventure, somewhere we’d both be happy.’ Even after all those years, remembering that day made Honey’s heart constrict.
‘Anyway, I kicked up the biggest fuss and started crying in the street which only got worse when she opened the front door and I saw two cases in the hall. I was hysterical and begged her not to take us. Pleaded for her to give daddy another chance and when I ran to my room and hid under the bed refusing to come out, kicking and screaming, she eventually gave up.’
The next part killed Honey because, with a few years under her belt, and after hearing Ziggy’s stories of women who turned up battered and bruised for A&E care, only to go home afterwards, she didn’t know if her mum was hiding more than just her sadness.
‘I can see her now, sobbing quietly as she took the neatly folded clothes out of the cases and back in the drawers then went downstairs to make tea. It happened again when I was twelve. I remember that exactly because it was two days after my birthday. I think she’d waited until after my party.’ And there they were to taunt her: images of balloons and a cake and jelly and ice-cream. Her mum doing the right thing for Honey. Wearing a brave face so she’d have a happy birthday.
‘This time we actually went, but it wasn’t till we got to Aunty Nicki’s that she told me we were staying. I went mad, then did a terrible thing and rang dad and told him where we were, so he came round. It was awful. I was in bed, top and tailing with our Aileen and I heard a commotion downstairs, banging on the front door then a row in the hallway.’ The part that followed always made her insides turn.
‘Dad was calling my name, asking me to come downstairs and go home with him. I froze. Not because I was scared of him, because I didn’t know what to do and his voice sounded so sad, pleading with me. I was in that awful position of having to choose between them. All I’d wanted was for him to come and get us both and for them to make friends. Eventually he went home, and I cried myself to sleep.’
Ernie took her hand in his and sounded sad as he said, ‘I never knew all this, lass, and I’m sorry you went through that.’
Honey continued, ‘Don’t be sorry, Grandad. It was their mess and I got dragged in, I see that now. And I suppose when you’re in a mess like they were, they lost sight of stuff. I wasn’t going to give up on them, though so when my aunts convened the next day, there was talk of me moving schools and I lost the plot. I was like a wild thing and refused to eat or speak and said I wanted to go and live with dad.’
Ernie shook his head, a wry look on his face. ‘Bloody hell, lass. I can’t imagine you bein’ like that. Mind, lookin’ at the state of this place I’m not one to talk. That temper of yours must come from me. So what happened next?’
Honey glanced at the pile of stone and silently agreed, they were both similar in many respects, stubborn and, when pushed, prone to flares. ‘Mum lasted a day and a half before I wore her down and convinced her we should go back. I even got Dad on the phone and made him swear he’d change and make it all right. So we went home.’
‘It’s not your fault, lass, the problems in their marriage. None of us could help them. Me and your Grandma did try but really, they were never suited.’
Honey knew that, but what she didn’t know drove her mad. What if she’d been brave, not selfish; realised how unhappy her mum was for years and years, and not interfered. There was a chance that her dad would’ve found someone else, someone suited to him, and he’d have been happy. And her mum could have got on and met someone too.
Instead, she’d marked time, for Honey’s sake. When her mum was finally able to leave without conscience or Honey stopping her, her dad spiralled out of control and went to the off-licence that night. If Honey had behaved differently, would her dad still be alive?
‘I hated Mum for leaving for good, and I blamed her for Dad dying. The things I said to her around that time make me ashamed. I think it was my way of hiding the guilt I felt, and not facing up to what I’d done all those years before. And I know you’re going to say that I was just a kid, and I was. I get that, too.’
Honey sucked in courage for the next bit because how it was received was anyone’s guess, ‘But what we both need to focus on is this… everyone makes mistakes. Everyone does stupid things, acting on knee-jerk reactions,’ she nodded towards the pile of stone, ‘that they can’t change, and say horrible things they can never take back.’
It was hard to steady the wobble in her voice, ‘And that’s a killer. To have to relive a moment in time over and over and wish you could do it differently. Or say you’re sorry. Tell someone you love them. So many lost chances and wrong turns. I’ve got to live with the memories of making Mum stay. And as much as you’re going to hate it, Molly and Beryl had to live with what they’d done, or not done, whichever the case may be.’
Ernie remained silent and impassive.
Honey ploughed on. ‘And that’s why when I get home I’m going to ring Mum and say I’m sorry and tell her I love her. I can’t say that to Dad, but I hope he knows, somehow. But I’m not going to be like Molly or Beryl. I swear from now I’m going to do what I think is right, no matter if it means taking the hardest route. Or speaking out or being a bit brave and honest every now and then.’
She flicked away a tear and held in the sob that was building in her chest and waited for something – anything – from her grandad.
Finally he lifted his arm so she could rest in the crook of his neck, and once he’d pulled her close, asked her a question. ‘So, my little wise owl. What do you suggest your daft old grandad does now because apart from writing a very big cheque to the vicar, I’m buggered if I know.’
Honey smiled and sniffed, laughing at the thought of him getting his cheque book out.Did anyone even write cheques anymore?
‘I don’t know, Grandad. Apart from actually getting an online bank account that you’ve been promising you’ll do for years, let’s just take it one day at a time, eh? It’s all too raw, this news about Molly, and it’s stirring up a lot of stuff for both of us. Let’s work through it together. It’s just us now, me and thee, and we make a great team, don’t we?’
She felt him kiss the top of her head. ‘Aye, lass. We do that. And I’m sorry you’ve felt like that about your dad all this time and not been able to talk to me about it. So I promise I’ll try not to be a stubborn old bugger and listen more and stop shutting you out. How does that suit?’
‘It suits me fine, and I get it, by the way, that you were hurting too and trying to cope in your own way. So along with everything else please don’t go beating yourself up about it. I’m fine and we’re both going tobefine, as long as we stick together and keep talking.’
Ernie tutted. ‘Well that’s never been a problem for you, has it lass? You never bloody shut up and that’s a fact.’
Honey gave him a nudge. ‘Oi.’ She looked at the mess he’d made of the plot and sighed, ‘Right, come on. Get your bottom off this soggy grass and we’ll go and see the vicar, or do you want me to? You can wait in the car if you prefer.’
Ernie gave her a sheepish look, ‘Can we start togetherness tomorrow? I feel a right daft bugger and I’d rather just try and forget all about it.’
Honey rolled her eyes.Tell that to the bowls club, she thought, but didn’t say. And even if he wasn’t going to be brave, she was sticking to her own promise and would face the vicar alone.
‘Here,’ she fished inside her coat pocket for her keys. ‘Go and wait in the car, ya big mardy. I’ll make your excuses and meet you there in a bit. Come on, best get this over with.’
Ernie took the keys and then remembered, ‘And I’ll need that hammer back… it’s me favourite. Don’t let the vicar keep it.’
