9781845502058

1 MEMORIES y story starts before I was even born. My parents, who married Mat a very young age in the Republic of Ireland in the early Sev- enties, had problems from the outset. My grandfather on my dad’s side committed suicide when Dad was a young boy. Apparently he stuck his head in an oven and just turned on the gas. Dad’s mother then abandoned him and his young brothers. I think there were four of them. I’m not sure. It’s not something I’ve ever discussed in depth with my father. All I know for sure is that somehow Dad ended up moving from his birthplace in Scotland to Ireland whilst the others were spread out across the world. He never saw two of his brothers again. There’s a story right there just waiting to be told. But, sadly, it will be lost by the passage of time because there is nobody around to tell it. The marriage between my parents appeared to be doomed from the start. Neither has offered a satisfactory explanation. Both remember things from their own perspective; both hold on to their own version of the truth. The reality, I imagine, is somewhere in between. But, for whatever reasons, it was my mother who ran off when I was two years old leaving my three-year-old sister and me with her mother. There’s a sort of perverse cosmic parallel there, I suppose. 11 99781845502058781845502058 - IIss TTherehere AAnybodynybody OOutut TTherehere rreprinteprint 22014.indd014.indd 1111 009/01/20149/01/2014 114:35:274:35:27 Is There Anybody Out There? Alone I’m at the doctor and he sticks a needle into my arm. I cry and look for mummy. But she isn’t there. I am alone. ‘Where’s my mummy?’ It’s Christmas morning. Where’s Mummy? I got some sweets for Christmas and I want to show her. I can’t fi nd her. Apart from that I don’t really have any conscious memory of my mother. There was never any sense of physical loss. One day I woke up and she wasn’t there. She was never there again. I’ve got a bright red tractor with some sweets in the back. It’s a present for my birthday, I think. Mummy’s not here but Daddy is. I peddle into my dad’s bedroom and he’s lying propped up on his pillow, grinning at me. I give him a sweet and peddle away. I still don’t know where Mummy is. I’m sitting on Grandma’s settee with my sister. Granddad is hitting my dad. I haven’t seen Dad for a long time. Grandma gives me juice and a boiled egg. Dad goes away again. He’s always going away. But at least he always comes back. Mummy hasn’t come back. He said that Mummy is never coming back. I’m told that my sister and I spent a great deal of our early years with my grandparents on my mother’s side. If I’m honest I can’t remember that either. I want to remember them both with fondness and happiness, but I can’t. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to remember what they look like, but I can’t. Sometimes I think that it would be nice to have Waltonesque memories, or at least to invent some of my own. I just remember that they were there somewhere in the background. The one thing I do remember about them is that I felt happy and secure when they were around. I don’t even know their names. We’re driving in the car with my dad. It’s late at night and we stop on the motorway. A woman gets in. I’ve never seen her before. We keep 12 99781845502058781845502058 - IIss TTherehere AAnybodynybody OOutut TTherehere rreprinteprint 22014.indd014.indd 1122 009/01/20149/01/2014 114:35:274:35:27 Memories on driving and it starts to rain. Who is she? Is she my mum? Maybe. Daddy is kissing her. Dad’s gone. I don’t know where. This woman is looking after us. She’s not very nice. When she gets angry she hits us. She gets angry a lot. Dad’s back. The hitting has stopped. But then he goes away and the hitting starts again. We’ve come to visit a big house. Dad says we have to stay here for a while. He doesn’t say why. There are lots of other children here. I think their dads have left them for a while too. I cry a lot. But nobody hits my sister or me. I sleep in a big room with lots of other boys. The house is so big and has a back garden with a sandpit and a huge tree that we climb when nobody is looking. Dad comes back but then he goes away again. It’s my birthday. I’m seven and I have a party at the big house. I’ve never had a party before. I have cake and everyone sings to me. Where’s my dad? I feel alone. I love it in the big house. I have loads of friends and we’re allowed out to go to church once a week. We get to see the nuns singing. If we’re good on the way there we’re allowed to have ice cream on the way back. One day two ladies come to see me. They are very nice and they start to take me out every week. Sometimes we go to their house and they give me treats. Sometimes they take me shopping. Once they took me to the cinema. I wish they could be my mum. But I always have to go back to the big house every week. My dad has come back and we have to leave the big house. I have to leave my friends. I have to leave the two ladies. I feel alone again. We move into a new house. One day men come with the police and throw us on to the street. We have nowhere to live and we have nothing to eat. Sometimes I wonder about my mum. Does she have a house? Does she have things to eat? Does she ever think about me, about my sister? Does she ever feel alone? 13 99781845502058781845502058 - IIss TTherehere AAnybodynybody OOutut TTherehere rreprinteprint 22014.indd014.indd 1133 009/01/20149/01/2014 114:35:274:35:27 Is There Anybody Out There? Across the water We’re on a boat now. We have to get past soldiers with big guns. They look in our suitcase. They look very angry. We’re on our way to England. It’s very stormy outside and my plate of egg and chips is sliding about all over the table. Maybe my mum is in England. England is an awful place. We haven’t found my mum yet. We move from one cramped, squalid bedsit to another. Finally, we arrive in Yorkshire and move into a house. My dad is away a lot. The hitting starts again. Our house is cold and damp. There’s no carpet on the fl oors or paper on the walls. I have a bed and a blanket and a million bed bugs. They’re small and red, and they live in my mattress and in the folds of the curtains. They come out at night. I know they’re coming because they smell funny. They crawl on my face, my eyes and my hair. I get used to them. I’m hungry. Dad lost his wages on the horses again. Dad is always in the betting shop. Sometimes SHE sends me down there to get him. Dad looks embarrassed when I go in and he always makes me wait outside for him. I daren’t go back without him because if I do, SHE hits me. I’m hungry. There’s not enough food this week. There’s enough for cigarettes and beer but not for food. Dad disappears again and I’m locked in my room without food. It’s worse in the holidays because I have to stay there for days on end. I feel alone. Sometimes I’m sent to the shop for bread and milk and I open the bread up, steal a slice from it, and replace the top. I have to hurry back though, because if I take more than fi ve minutes SHE beats me. If I do it in less SHE beats me. I have to time it just right. I’m so hungry. Sometimes I lie in bed at night and wonder what it would be like not to be hit. In my head I transport myself into the future where I’m big and strong. There is no hitting in my dreams. I can’t even remember when the hitting started. I can’t remember what it’s like not to be hit. 14 99781845502058781845502058 - IIss TTherehere AAnybodynybody OOutut TTherehere rreprinteprint 22014.indd014.indd 1144 009/01/20149/01/2014 114:35:274:35:27 Memories Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I just get slapped on the head. Often I’m punched on the back of the head and the kidneys. The punch to the kidneys hurts the most. I try and avoid that if I can. It usually means leaving my head wide open, but anything is better than the kidneys. I try to avoid curling up on the fl oor because SHE kicks me in the tes- ticles.

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