House on the Hill.

Chapter 18 Window of Tears

One day that will always stay in my mind and would affect my life for ever and be my worst nightmare imaginable.
I was just nine years old. I got up late as usual and got the usual evil eyes and moans from my father. When I sat at the breakfast table, I rushed eating my toast and jam and the cup of tea my mum had made. It was not too sweet and milky and was just the way I liked it but I didn't get the chance to drink it. My father knocked the cup over purposely and it splashed across my face, onto my blue school jumper and my black short pants. My father laughed as I screamed out in pain as it burned my face and bare legs. He turned to my mum with his demonic eyes to say leave him or you will get the same. But she ignored his evil intentions and wiped my face and legs with her pinny and held me tightly to calm me down.
My father strutted out of the front room and he shouted, "Bitch you fucking bitch. You're too soft with him."
My mum ignored his remarks and just tried to calm me down by stroking my blonde locks. I sobbed so much my eyes started to hurt. I was shaking with fear. My mum undressed and changed me and put another jumper on and pants.
Mum left the room for a second to get my coat and then she grabbed my hand and said, "I'm taking you to school. Come along, Ian you are late."
I didn't want to go to school. I was a mess. I was shaking and crying all the way. My mum tried her best to calm me down. She left me at the school gates and she gave me a kiss and then waved me off. The day at school was a long one. I cried on my desk a few times and this would happen on a regular basis.
The school bell rang it was time to leave. School time had finished. I collected my school bag and belongings and headed towards the school gates. I decided to go the long way around and took my time walking home.
I just couldn't face being in that house any more. I walked up Plodder Lane and cut through the dell and lay on the grass for a while. I then sat on a grass banking and I started to shake. I was very fearful about facing my father. I started to sob. I just wanted my life to end. I couldn't take it anymore. I was fed up with all the arguments, the beatings and seeing my mother crying and listening to her screams throughout the night when my dad came home drunk and did whatever he felt like doing.
I climbed over the fence and headed past the coal yard on Highfield Road and headed home slowly. I was already late, nearly an hour in total. I walked past the shops at the top of Derwent Road and I could see my house in the distance. I stated to shake with fear. I wet myself and my short school pants were wet through. I could feel the urine running down my leg and in to my shoe. I slowly walked down Derwent road. Instead of knocking on the front door I decided to go around to the back of the house and peep through the kitchen or the back-room window to see if I could see my mum and to wait for a signal that it was safe to enter the house. I crept around the back and I could hear screams. I looked through the kitchen window and in the hallway, I saw my mother being dragged by her hair across the floor with the odd boot going in on my mum's body on the floor. I screamed through the window to leave my mother alone I was crying my heart out. My father grabbed my mother off the floor by her hair and shoved her against the front door. Her screams torment me to this very day. I was banging hard on the window so hard, I didn't realise my knuckles were swollen, such was the impact on the window. My father was oblivious to my screams and the constant banging on the window. I ran up Derwent Road screaming and crying. I headed for the phone box facing the cooperative shop. I saw one of my neighbours Mrs Holiday who was already in the phone box. I banged the phone box door and screamed at her to call the police as my father was beating my mother in the hallway. She put the phone down and called the police. She then told me the police were on their way. I ran like a bat out of hell down Derwent Road and headed for the kitchen window. I could still hear my mum screaming and crying. Then I saw he had his hands on her throat. He was trying to strangle her.
I was screaming, "Please leave her alone." I was petrified. Then suddenly it all stopped. My father ran in to the front room and I could see my mum opening the front door and two large men with helmets on, in black uniform came in. It was the police. I felt safe now so I ran around to the front door. It was wide open and there I saw my father on his hands and knees begging my mother and crying not to let the police take him away. I knew he was lying but I was too afraid to say anything. I didn't want to face my father later if she let him off the hook.
The police wanted to take my father away and lock him up for good. I prayed to God that they would take him away and throw the key away. But to my shock she told the burly police officers, that she wouldn't press any charges against him and to their disgust she told them she would give him one more chance. The police offices begged my mum to change her mind as my father would do it again.
She repeated again, "I will give him one more chance and if he ever does it again, I will definitely get him locked up for good. If he ever lays a hand on me, that will be that."
The police left and my father just put his coat on and left without saying a word. He banged the door behind him and probably headed to the Flying Shuttle, the local pub for his usual drinking bout with his friends. They all thought butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Little did they know what went on behind closed doors. My father was a Jekyll and Hyde character and a coward who bullied women and young children.
I looked at my mother she was shaking on the stairs crying her eyes out. She was a complete nervous wreck. Her hair was a mess and her face looked tormented. Her eyes were all puffed up and her left eye was swelling up and would eventually turn black. Her bottom lip was bleeding and probably needed stitching. I muttered to my mother and said why didn't you get him locked up for good and then the beatings would stop.
She replied that if he went to prison who would put food on the table, "Who would pay the rent? We could lose the house and end up in cottage homes for the homeless. I don't want my family in a place like that. Please understand Ian I have to do this my way and keep my family together."
I sat on my mum's knee and I cried forgetting that I was wet through with my urine. She went upstairs and cleaned us both up. I saw her look in the mirror at her face. I could see tears running down her face. She then put on some makeup to cover her swelling eyes which were blackening up by the minute. Then she brushed her hair and turned around and said, "Time for tea Ian," with a broken smile, as though nothing had happened.
When we went downstairs she said, "Come along Ian, you can help me cut up the potatoes."
She had the chance to end all the beatings and the mental abuse once and for all but such was the women's bravery she carried on for the sake of the family and the suffering would carry on for a little while longer.