That's Life ( Pt 10 )

It was three weeks into living at the house, that I found a good doctor's surgery, which just happened to be down the road from where I was living. The staff and doctors were always friendly and my son was putting on just the right amount of weight and doing well considering our situation. They were also in contact with the hospital which I was glad about.

 

I now had my own single bed from home and extra quilt covers and pillows, some extra much needed towels, also a fold up table and chairs and a spare electric fire. My luxury was my cassette machine with my much needed tapes, also a little black and white television from home. I got myself a kettle too so I wouldn't need to keep going down to the kitchen to make a hot drink, and of course a tin for my favorite biscuits which were digestive back then.

 

My son had his much needed baby bath and some of his cuddly toys, he loved my old teddy that I had when I was a baby, it used to have a squeak when you pressed its belly, but sadly the squeak had gone over time.

 

My son's lobster pot play pen which a friend had given me, came in very handy for when I had to go up and downstairs to get something from the kitchen. The stairs were certainly keeping me fit as time went by.

 

I have to say that for all the faults I found, I did enjoy the evening meals the landlady prepared, one of my favorites being a huge turkey drumstick with corn and cheesy mashed potato, she always gave it that crispy outside skin, with a juicy inside. My impression was that she enjoyed cooking, but not the housework, which I can understand, but think is a necessity.

 

It was all such a shame for them to be living like this, because I discovered there was most definitely a lack of warmth and understanding in this home, not just because the state the house was in, but also an absence to the needs of the family.

 

I know I keep going on about the landlady's husband, but as I've already mentioned, I thought he was lazy, didn't seem to have any enthusiasm for anything but his secrets, which I'll get to later. As his son lay in bed missing yet another school day, his two daughters who had left home and had children of their own, came and went as they pleased, leaving their young ones with their mum and wandering off into the city whenever they felt like it, come day or night. I felt like just another of their waifs and strays wading through the turmoil of their existence.

 

 

I discovered that the landlady's husband was a rag-and-bone man and also collected scrap metal and bits of car, taking them apart, which accounted for why he was always grubby and covered in oil. I hated it when he was around, he would huff and puff a lot, sitting either around the house, or on the wall outside drinking cans of beer with his son and other men...up to no good I'm sure.

 

I'm surprised his heart didn't give out with the amount of fatty food he'd put away. One day I was in the kitchen making up some bottles for my son, I watched as he literally threw half a pound of lard into a pan and began frying up slices of bacon and eggs, you might think! What's wrong with that? But then he cut doorsteps of bread and tipped the meat and eggs on, then continued to douse it all in the thick, runny lard, it made me feel physically sick, I just had to get out of that kitchen quick.

 

I had many restless nights, tossing and turning, the walls seemed thin, as yet another Friday and Saturday nights reggae music blared out...don't get me wrong, I love reggae, but the son next door would ramp up the volume to full, I think he was a DJ and would practice in his bedroom, it would go on till the early hours of the morning without a break, the room would vibrate to the sounds. I never complained though, it was more than my life's worth to say anything, the rest of the houshold didn't protest either, of course my son would sleep through the whole night...thank goodness, I think he could have slept through an atomic bomb going off.

 

These were also the hours I would keep my ears and eyes open for when the landlady's husband would return from a night's binge on the beer. I was so glad my son was still only a baby and a heavy sleeper, so he didn't have to hear the heavy breathing, with irritable groans and swearing at having to climb the stairs.

 

There were moments I would lay there, imagining the smell of his foul breath as he paused on the landing below, my stomach would churn at the thought of him climbing up my stairs and entering my room, his large, fleshy body standing over me, then falling on top and suffocating me, but of course this was all only made up in my head...thank goodness! He would never in fact have made it up another flight of stairs the state he was in. It was at times like these, that I wished my imagination hadn't worked overtime. It also left me feeling awkward if I had to face him the next day, I felt crippled to say or do anything that would offend him or the rest of the family, knowing I could be out on the streets if I did.

 

Another situation I found myself in, was when one day I was hanging out some washing in the garden, there was only a small path leading from the kitchen door, with a patch of grass on one side. Next door, there were an Indian family, they were very friendly and had young children running in and out of the kitchen a lot...as I remember. There was always nice aromas of curry wafting out of their door.

 

On one occasion they had a goat in the garden, which I enjoyed petting and thought very friendly. I considered that as they had young children, they'd got it as a pet for them. How wrong was I, because that weekend when I was out there once again, the goat was suddenly no longer there. “Where's your pet goat?” I asked innocently.

 

“Oh! That wasn't a pet...it was for our goat curry.” The wife announced, completely oblivious to my shock, horror and complete naivety. Coming from a small village and not ever having been in this situation before, I didn't have a clue that apparently it was a sacrifice to be eaten at their celebration on the Saturday night, in honor of something or other. Now, I have to say firstly, that I respect others religions, but to be honest I didn't want to know anymore. I felt I must have lived a very sheltered life up until now.

 

Not wanting to hang around the house, most of the time I went out, either visiting friends, or going to a Mothers and toddlers group where I made some new friends. I also went back to the refuge on a number of occasions, but by now most of the women I hung out with had been rehoused, so I'd only gone back a couple of times, but kept in touch with my two best friends, though one lived a train ride away, so it was pretty difficult to keep the friendship going.

 

One particular day, I was on my way out, when the landlady called me into the back room. As I opened the door I was met by piles and piles of clothes.

 

“Can you help me bag this lot up?” She uttered. “You can take whatever you want,” she declared, folding items and placing them in black bin liners.

 

I couldn't believe my luck, it was like walking into a jumble sale before anyone else arrived and having the first pickings. I loved jumble sales, for me it was an Aladdin's cave of goodies, I would go to them at least once a week back in the late 1970s. But here I was sorting through mounds of clothing without having to push or shove. “Where did it all come from?” I asked, knowing as soon as I'd opened my mouth, it was a stupid question with her husband in the rag-and-bone business.

 

“It doesn't matter where this lot came from...the little you know the better,” she said, putting her finger to her nose.

 

I decided not to ask anymore questions, but tried on as many items as I could. In the end I picked out a long, black coat that fitted me perfectly, a couple of corduroy trousers, some tops and jeans. The rest we bagged up. I then helped her carry the lot down to the local community centre which was just down the road, making several journeys as there was so much, but I was mega pleased with my bounty, the rest the landlady would make money on at the next jumble sale.

 

I got quite used to things suddenly appearing at the house after that, but then I was to suffer at the hands of this family, who would put me in a very difficult situation, of which I feared for my safety.

 

 

 

To be continued...