That's Life ( Pt 8 )

Dear diary...the next day being a Sunday, I wouldn't be able to get hold of my solicitor, I'd had to contact her about arranging to go back home to collect some things I'd be needing, including my single bed and some more clothes, though at this point I had no idea how I'd get my bed over to the house being as I didn't have much money. I'd really missed my cassette player and tapes too, desperate to listen to Roxy Music, their sound was so fine and sent me into raptures, it seemed like ages since I'd heard, Love is the Drug and Virginia Plain.

 

I found out through my solicitor that my husband had changed the locks on the front door, so I knew I'd have to face him eventually when returning to the house. My solicitor had also told me that on no account should I see my husband alone, so my friend from the refuge said she'd come along with me for support when I needed to go.

 

Sunday morning found me rushing around, sorting my son out, stuffing most of my clothes and other things into black bags. Placing most of the disposable nappies into the bottom of the pram, I went downstairs and phoned the landlady at the accommodation I'd be making my new home, telling her I would be on my way over soon.

 

“Will you be needing a hot meal tonight?” She asked.

 

“Yes! That would be great,” I declared, knowing that I had plenty of

SMA milk for my son, so that at least was something.

 

The women at the refuge had been so kind to me, they even let me off paying them back for all the telephone money...I felt awful, but they simply refused. I could have cried again, but felt I needed to harden up, I was lucky to have met such good friends that understood my situation.

 

So after saying my sad goodbyes, I wondered if we'd still keep in touch, it was always the same when you moved away, people would say they're going to keep in touch, but very often didn't...not that I was going far, but little did I know that my life was about to change yet again and there wasn't anything I could do about it, but be carried along on a wave of unpredictability.

 

Again my son's future godmother came along with me on the bus, as I had quite a lot to carry, what with the pram and a pushchair, though the black bags weren't heavy, so that was a great relief.

 

I seem to remember the street seemed a lot quieter as we approached the house this time, mainly I suppose because it was a Sunday. The landlady's husband was sitting on the wall outside their house with some men drinking cans of something or other. He wore a vest that was covered in oil and looked like it had seen better days. I felt conspicuous and nervous as we approached, uncomfortable as they watched us and talked among themselves. It was a cold day and I wondered how he wasn't freezing dressed in so few clothes.

 

He stood up as we advanced towards him and immediately turned and sauntered into the house, his large stomach hanging down over his trousers, I know it's not a nice thing to say, but the man repulsed me and I was frightened, but tried not to show it.

 

Calling out to his wife. “She's here...I'll send her in.” He sniffed and took deep breaths of exhaustion from just walking into the house, it seemed to leave him weary. “Yeah! Well you better go in lady, the wife's waiting for you.” Was all he said, as me and my friend squeezed by.

 

I felt nervous as we stepped in that front door, glad my friend was with me. The musty smell of damp mixed with cabbage cooking, hit me as I made my way down the hallway to the tiny, narrow, gloomy, filthy kitchen, the concrete floor was black with dirt, there was mold on the walls and the work tops didn't look as though they'd been cleaned in ages, mold had lifted the plastic material that covered the work surfaces, there were frying pans sat in the sink, covered in layers of fat. This was an observation I kept to myself and tried to think positive thoughts, rather than dwell on the negatives.

 

The short, frail landlady took me into a back room next to the kitchen, wiping her hands in her apron. The only piece of furniture in there was a table...no chairs just a table. Telling me to come in, she led me over to the table. “This is your rent book!” She announced. “I'll need your first months rent today, then we'll be straight...okay!” She held the book out to me and I thanked my lucky stars, that I had some money put aside for this moment. Gazing at my friend from the refuge, I smiled and took some notes from my purse, giving them to the woman, then she signed the first month.

 

As we walked back out into the hallway, she wanted to show me where they ate. Down near the front was another door that led into a sitting room, there was a settee and three threadbare armchairs which were frayed and had seen better days, the dog lay on the settee, in front of an electric fire was a cat, that stirred when we walked in.

 

The dog jumped down and started towards me, I wasn't nervous as it started yapping, but the whole place was so filthy, I wondered what was lurking on the sofa where it layed. Next to the fireplace were two alcoves, one had shelves with magazines and records, below was a television placed on a table, then on the other side was a cabinet with a few ornaments in and fairy lights around the inside. “This is where we eat,” she announced. “Dinner will be ready about 5pm.”

 

Phew! I could see there were going to be a lot of strict rules to follow while I was here, but at least cooking was one less problem to worry about. After being shown around, my friend came up to my room with me, I plonked the black bin liners down and looked at the old armchair, knowing that for tonight it was going to be my bed, I didn't even have a pillow or cushion, so it was going to be an uncomfortable night.

 

Soon my friend had to leave, telling me she'd be in touch as soon as she could, so I gave her the landlady's phone number and said my goodbyes. Now I just had to get this room sorted out. I'd bought some ajax powder cleaner with me, knowing that bleach was strong. I asked the landlady for a bucket and some rags, she obliged but told me not to take the curtains down till I could replace them, obviously they would probably have disintegrated if I tried to wash them, so I left them as they were.

 

After going around and clearing the cobwebs and wiping down the walls, I asked for a vacuum, but all she had was a carpet sweeper, which I suppose did just as good a job and was lighter to carry up and down the stairs, though I wondered how I'd clean the armchair, so decided to give the seat part a shake out the bedroom window.

 

Then I started on the bathroom, but the scale of dirt around the bath wouldn't come out, not even with the ajax powder, it was so ingrained. The toilet didn't come up much better either, but the sink sparkled by the time I'd finished. I knew I'd need some flip flops to wear, there was no way I'd be walking on dirty floor boards in bare feet.

 

It was getting towards late afternoon by the time I'd finished. Tired and hungry I was able to feed my son, before tucking into a Sunday roast, I have to admit her cooking was spot on and the roast beef was tender, we even had Yorkshire puddings, followed by apple crumble and custard, then tea to finish off. I felt well and truly stuffed by the time I finished, then realized why her husband was so big.

 

It was getting late and I wanted to phone mum and dad up now I was no longer at the refuge. The landlady said it would be fine, but not to make too many phone calls because of the phone bill.

 

Going back down the hallway and into the dining room, the telephone sat on the table. Dialing their number, Mum answered. It always annoyed me when they both would give out their number when answering the phone. I would say; “Mum...Dad! You don't know who's on the other end...you shouldn't ever give out your number.” But they never listened and continued with their habit.

 

“Mum! It's Jenny,” I said, trying to sound calm and collective. I started to explain that I'd found a new accommodation, but told her I had one problem, there wasn't any where for me to sleep and could I borrow their camp bed till I could get my single one from home.

 

“How will you manage tonight!” My Mum replied, sounding worried.

 

“Oh! I'll be fine tonight...but if I can come round tomorrow, that would be great. I can pick it up and bring it back when I've finished with it.”

 

“Okay!” Said Mum. “You've got your own front door key, so you can let yourself in and pick it up when you want. It's under the stairs.”

 

“Thanks Mum.” We then got into a conversation with her asking about how I was getting on, but I didn't want to let her know the truth, so kept it short. “Mum! I have to go now, this is the landlady's phone and she doesn't want her phone bill going through the roof.”

 

“Let me phone you back!” She declared.

 

I had to find some way of cutting this phone call short. “No Mum! Look I'm really tired and it's late.”

 

“Okay! Well take care of yourself and I'll speak to you soon.”

 

I said my goodbyes and put the phone down, then went back in to the sitting room. I sat downstairs with my son for as long as I could, chatting and watching the television. Wanting to stay in that sitting room in front of the fire would have been extremely tempting, but the owners informed me that they were going to bed, telling me I wouldn't be able to stay downstairs on my own. I didn't understanding why! But decided not to question her, so I made my way up the creaky, wooden stairs to my cold, unwelcoming bedroom.

 

To be continued...