As You Wave Me Goodbye

Two

(Photo: Mummy and Daddy)

Over the next few days, the house was filled with the angry ringing of the telephone. Dad was utterly furious with Mum's stubbornness over giving me and John up, so he ended up getting a lawyer involved. I asked John what a lawyer was and why Mum was so upset about it.

"A lawyer is a man with a briefcase - y'know, like the one Uncle George has in his wardrobe - and he's really scary," John explained. "Mum's crying about it because..."

John's voice trailed away. He refused to look me in the eye.

"Why is she crying, Johnny?" I persisted. ''What's this scary man done to her?"

"Nothing... at least, not yet. You're too little to understand these things.''

I put my hands on my hips and stamped my foot angrily on the carpet. "I'm not too little, Johnny! I'm ten minutes older than you, remember? That makes me more grown-up than you! So tell me what's going on or I'll tell everyone on the street that your middle name is Carol!"

John blinked at me in astonishment. "But... but my middle name isn't Carol.''

I grinned slyly. "The neighbour kids don't know that."

I had him now. John let out a huge sigh and pulled me towards him. I could feel his hot breath blowing on my cheek, in my ear. He didn't say anything for a while, then he whispered something that made my knees turn to jelly.

"Tracy, I think Daddy wants to take us away from Mum."

I stared at him in horror. "What?! He can't do that!"

"He's our daddy, Trace," John said wearily. "And he's a grown-up. He can do whatever he likes."

"But why would he want to take us away?" I asked. "He must know how happy we are with Mummy. Daddy can't just decide to take us away!"

John shrugged and draped an arm around my shoulder. He didn't say anything; we stood there in complete silence, holding onto each other, absolutely terrified for what was inevitably about to happen.

* * * *

Dad came visiting again a few weeks later. This was a bit unfair, I must say. John and I had almost completely forgotten about being taken away and started to breathe a little easier. We were both playing together in the lounge at the time, not a single care in the world. John was racing his tiny toy cars up and down the arms of the sofa, making enthusiastic revving noises. I was rocking my favourite dolly (affectionately called Alice after the little girl in Alice in Wonderland) and singing her lullabies.

We heard a knock at the door. John immediately got up to answer it, but I grabbed his arm before he had a chance to dash off.

"Don't, Johnny!" I hissed. "What if it's D-A-D-D-Y at the door?"

John blinked at me blankly. He wasn't to great at spelling at the time.

"Sorry," I said softly. "I mean... what if Daddy's at the door?"

John considered this for a moment then slowly backed down. He went back to playing with his cars, but the revving sounded halfhearted. I tried hard to play with Alice and block out the angry knocking on the front door.

Mum flew downstairs. Her hair and clothes were a bit messy and rumpled because she'd had a lie-down just before. She gave me and John and small grin as she passed the lounge entranceway. We didn't have the heart to smile back; we felt more like crying.