The Willow Tree

Chapter 9

Nothing but the events of the night before were running through my head as I woke up and got out of my bed. It was still dark, but then in winter it’s always dark. I walked over to my windowsill and sat down looking out into the darkness. In the distance I could see a glimpse of the sun that was beginning to rise.

But all I could really think about was my Father. Did he really still feel this bad about the death of my Mother? I knew he had never fully gotten over it, but I had had no clue that it was this bad. It had been over fifteen years. I guess it made sense. He had always seemed like he was just on the edge, waiting for something to finally tip him over. It also explained why he turned to drinking, to try and drown the pain of his loss.

But why was he so afraid of loosing me too?

I didn't understand how a man who could be so cruel and horrible all the time could actually care about me. But then I still cared about him even after everything he had done. Maybe all he really wanted was to keep me safe, even if he had gone about it in a strange way.

I heard the sound of the front door slamming closed followed instantly by a car starting and then driving away. It almost felt like routine, the way things always used to be.

I quickly got dressed, before heading down into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast and start working. I opened to the first page of the book, but I already knew that there was no chance I would be able to concentrate for long enough to learn anything.

I sighed and turned my gaze towards the window. It was raining outside and I sat and watched the raindrops slowly chase each other down the glass as I let my mind wonder. It reminded me of the first day that I had met Jake. Thinking about it made it seem so long ago, but in reality it had only been a few months. I realised how much things had changed in such a short period of time.

I remembered how the doorbell had rang and how I had gone to the door expecting to see the postman. How I had opened the door revealing the boy with messy brown hair and the green eyes that lit up as he smiled.  The smile that I loved so much.                                             

My mind quickly snapped out of my daydream, to the sound of the doorbell. I rushed to the door, hoping by some miracle it would be Jake stood outside my door with a plate of cookies as he had done those few months before.

I stopped for a moment then opened the door revealing my Grandmother. My smile grew as I tightly hugged her. It had been months since she had come to visit me and I really missed her.

I pulled away and smiled at her, suddenly noticing the look of concern on her face as she brushed her hand over my cheek.

‘What happened to your face?’ She asked, as if she already knew the answer.

‘Oh nothing,’ I lied. ‘I just fell.’

‘How are you?’ I asked, quickly changing the subject, as she sat down in the armchair next to the fire, which was on the verge of dying out. I took the seat directly opposite her waiting for her response.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied although there was something in her voice, the way she said it, she seemed tired and old. My Grandmother had never seemed old, although she looked it, she was always jumping about full of life. But today she seemed like an old woman and it worried me.

‘How come you haven’t been round in ages?’ I asked.

‘I’ve just been busy,’ she replied and now I wasn’t the only one in the room lying.

‘Grandmother?’ I said, quickly wondering what was the best way to word my question. ‘What was Father like just after Mother died?’

'My dear he was just awful. Still isn't the same if you asked me. He came to stay with me for about a year, couldn't cope staying in this house. Everything reminded him of her. Especially you.' 

It suddenly hit me. Of course I reminded him of my Mother. Everyone had always told me how much I looked like her. It must have killed him.

'Is that why he hates me?' I finally plucked up enough courage to ask her.

'He doesn't hate you, my dear, I promise you that. Your Father does love you very much, I promise you that. Even if he has a funny way of showing it.' She replied. 

'Then why has he always acted strangely around me?' I had so many questions that I need answering.

'Imagine the person you loved most, suddenly wasn't there anymore, but there was another person and everytime you looked at them all you saw was the person you loved. Almost like a ghost of your past. A ghost that is always there wherever you look.'

'Oh,' was all I could reply. 

I made her a cup of tea as we sat and chatted through the afternoon, although it felt different to how it used to. Too much had changed for things to ever feel normal again.

I walked her to the door, a couple of hours later, as we said goodbye. She hugged me tightly and just before she pulled away I heard her whisper in my ear.

‘If he ever hurts you again, you come straight to me and I'll sort him out.'

The words were almost comforting and I managed to force a smile as I watched her leave. 

Back in the kitchen, I sat down at the table once more and gazed out the window. The rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds in the sky. 

I had always obeyed my Father’s rules however irrational they seemed. But once again things had changed and staying cooped up in my house when it was so lovely outside did not seem like an option. I opened the back door and ran down the bottom of the garden. I had always been scared that my Father would come home early and catch me, but what was he going to do? He had already hurt me more than I ever could’ve imagined.

I sat on the swing and kicked my legs forwards and then backwards, causing the swing to start to move. The breeze lifted my hair and for a moment I had no worries. Nothing that my Father could do or say could affect me anymore. If he truly cared so much about me then he would tell me the truth about my Mother. About why I wasn’t allowed in the garden. About everything.

I stood up on the swing, allowing myself the flying sensation that I so often craved. I smiled as I swung allowing my mind to drift off.

‘Willow!’ An angry shout from the distance startled me, causing my foot to slip. I quickly grabbed onto the rope, preventing myself from falling and managed to steady myself. The swing stopped and I jumped off as my Father walked towards me, a look of anger spread across his face.

‘How many times have I told you that you’re not allowed out here?’ He shouted, but I ignored him and started to walk off back into the house.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers tightly enclosed around my wrist. He spun me round to face him as I pulled my hand out from his clutch.

‘If it’s such a big deal then why won’t you tell me why?’ I shouted back. ‘Why of all things am I not allowed to go into my own garden?’

‘Go to your room.’ He replied, his voice still raised but no longer shouting.

‘No.’ I replied, stubbornly. ‘I’m not leaving until you give me a reasonable explanation.’

‘I said go to your room,’ he snarled. But once again I ignored his request.

‘What happened out here that made you make up such a stupid rule?’ I said no longer thinking about what I was saying.

My Father turned away and headed towards the house.

I had one last attempt to try and get him to see sense. ‘How did she die?’ I asked, my voice no longer raised. The tone, no longer angry.

He turned to face me and for a moment his expression softened, almost as if he was about to cry, before turning back to anger as he muttered,

‘Never talk about your Mother ever again.’