A Part Of Me - Chapter 1
Created | Updated Jul 16, 2002
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A Part Of Me
STH
Goosebumps, damn. And why am I getting goosebumps
again? The central heating's going like crazy and all
the doors and windows are locked tight - what with me
living on my own and all. Well, technically I'm a
single parent now, but no-one likes that label. No
matter how liberal this age is, nothing gives the
impression 'wayward mother' better. Even if the truth
couldn't be further from it...
"Daddy read me a story last night."
No, not again. I've heard this before and each time
my heart brakes a little. Do I have The Chat with him
again? How on earth did I develop the ability to tell
him important things he needs to know, so
nonchalently? And who's going to talk to me, where's
my help? I'm sure I had a talk with him last week, or
was it earlier this week? I don't know, but I'm tired
baby, I'm sorry. Maybe I should try another tack.
"Have you been dreaming good dreams, sweetboy?" I tip
him a wink.
"Umm...suppose so." This is his standard answer for
anything he hadn't really considered but knew the
wrong answer wouldn't result in a telling-off.
"Well, you know the Sandman only rewards good boys
with good dreams, don't you?"
"Mmm", he nodded whilst eating his strawberry yogurt.
Of course he usually craved chocolate at this hour but
yogurt was a good compromise, I felt. The last thing
both of us needed at 8.30 was another energy rush, the
little blighter.
"But I cried at the end of Pokemon yesterday, Mom."
His eyes find mine.
"That's okay, crying when something is sad is fine.
The Sandman knows you're a good boy."
"Good. Daddy said I've got to be a good guy 'cos
there's too much baddies around."
How can he do it? How can he tell me something like
that, something to start a new set of tears when I'm
alone and the house is quiet? Because he's his
father's boy, that's why.
"Yeah, he's safe in bed. Actually I say safe but
there's this damn draft somewhere downstairs, always
so goddamned nippy."
"Firstly, there are no drafts. Nothing is more
important to me than the safety of my girl and only
grandson. And secondly, watch your language Rose."
I smile into the phone.
"Sorry dad." Who'd have thought that the same voice
that terrorised my teenage years, I'd now be taking
comfort in when being ticked-off?
"Look I was thinking. What do I do about my name?
And Adam's?"
"Adam is a fine name. Especially in this day and
age."
"No, our surname: Hess? I'm not sure when I'm
officially meant to change back to my maiden name. I
mean, I don't mind but what about Adam? You know what
school kids can be like."
"I'm not 100% sure. But I can find out for you. As
far as I know you can revert back whenever you feel
like it, but Adam's a Hess until he decides otherwise,
dear."
How can I tell my father that all it takes is one
stupid bill to arrive in his name is all it takes to
set me off again?
"Just remember, you've a good maiden name - and I
should know!"
"Ha! Okay Mr Wakadoo," his nick-name from his school
days - although how children of the 40's had got
Wakadoo from Walker I'll never know.
"I'll see you early tomorrow, Adam's positively
chomping at the bit to see you."
"Okay, love you Rosie."
"You too dad, bye."
Now how about that! I can still remember such fearful
conversations with dad, seemed like for a decade I
could do nothing right. Now here we are just fine 'n'
dandy. Shame we'll both be going to an empty bed
tonight. Still, it's never too long before Adam
decides to pay me a visit at some ungodly hour. I
hope he comes tonight.
"Mom? Can I come in?"
One day I'll have to say no. But not tonight, and not
for a while either. At least he asks now, gone are
the nights I'd roll over on him oblivious to his
creeping in. Or worse, a surprise kick in the fanny
in the middle of the night.
"Of course you can, darling." I watch him climb into
his father's side of the bed (the side facing the door
- important that), his hand searches for mine.
"Hey fella, where's my extra kiss goodnight, then?" I
tease as he ends up planting a kiss on my nose.
"Daddy didn't read to me tonight. I think I missed
him."
"I miss him too Adam, sleep tight."
My father arrives early the next morning, I know he'll
be grouchy from the roundabouts in Milton Keynes but
he'll put on a brave face for his grandson. Actually,
his mood will depend on whoever opens the door to him
first. Unfortunately, it's me, Adam being too
engrossed in his favourite Sunday morning cartoons.
"Hi Dad, how are you?" I ask knowing full well his
reply.
"Bloody roundabouts and stupid women drivers, this
town is just full of 'em. Bane of my life, Rose."
We brush past the lounge into the kitchen, dad checks
his head in to see Adam but is content to leave him
undisturbed with the television.
"Still not shaved it off, eh?" I felt I had to rile
him over his 'new' moustache everytime I saw him.
Part of his make-over when he made the move down here,
I still can't get totally used to it.
"I had a comparison to Sean Connery the other day, so
it must be working."
"He's tall, Dad...and good looking." I kidded him.
"Hey!" His sense of humour intact as ever.
"So which blue-haired old dear have you your eye on
this week?"
"Well, it was the Postman who said it," he caught my
grin, "But I can only agree with him, nevertheless.
And how's my little soldier?" He nodded toward the
lounge.
"Fine, I think. I had a good talk with him last week,
seemed to have done the trick, but-"
"No nightmares?" He took his coat off, I knew it
pained him to hear of anything like this, "Is he
sleeping okay now?"
"Yes, he's improved ever so much lately." Should I
tell him? Well, who else can you go to Rose? Right
now there are only two people you can trust with all
your heart, and they're both here in this house.
"He's been claiming his father's been reading to him
at bed-times some nights."
"Really? You hadn't thought to mention this to me?"
Please don't be cross dad, not now.
"No, well, it's just that he's been so good lately - I
didn't want to say." Actually he's slept better ever
since he's convinced himself his father's been-
"Grandad!"
And here he was, a blur of red and yellow pjamas, as
he launches himself into his grandad's arms.
"And how are we, special-boy?" Said dad already
noticing Adam eyeing the bag he'd brought with him.
"I'm alright, thank you. Have you bought something
nice, grandad?" My boy beams a smile at him.
"Brought, dear heart, brought." He ruffles Adam's
hair. "And yes I have, take a look."
He knew I'd asked him not to bring toys with him on
every visit but he'd always arrive armed with
something. Said he liked the big department stores,
the bustle of families, parents trying to control
their offspring. Said it reminded him of shopping
with me and mom years ago.
"DUCKS! Look mom! We're going to feed the ducks."
Such joy on the face of a six year old, all for the
price of half a loaf of bread. Amazing.
"And the sooner you get dressed young man, the quicker
we can get out, eh?"
"Riiiighht!" He races upstairs.
"Thank you, dad." I put my arms around him.
"S'alright, Rosie. Just doing my job." At times like
this I never want to let go. "You want me to talk
to him, about his bed-time?"
"Please. Nothing too much, just...y'know."
"Course, my love. And I want that dinner on the table
promptly, right?" He wagged his finger at me
mischievously. I chuckled, but damnit - there it goes
again. Goosebumps.
"Dad, er, I know I've only got a t-shirt on. But is
it me or do you feel a chill?"
"Sorry Rosie," he shrugged "But I guess it's just you."
"Grandad? Can I have the music on?"
"I don't see why not, soldier," I fiddle with the
buttons whilst navigating yet another roundabout.
"Legoland!"
My, he catches on fast, "Now don't let your mother
hear you say that, Adam. That's just my little name
for Milton Keynes. Best we keep it a secret, eh?" I
put my finger to my mouth.
"Alright."
I tip him a wink as he smiles. Still funny to call
this place home. I know it's not a bad place; quite
the opposite, nice and safe to bring up this little
one. It's just that everything's so new,
so...manufactured. No sense of history, not like my
hometown. Back in Huddersfield...no, plenty of time
later to go over the past. Right now I'm glad I moved
here. At this stage in life you need the people you
love close to you. But why did it take me so long to
find that out?
"Tractor! Red one."
Lucky for that seat-belt or I'm sure he'd have been up
and away out the sun-roof. At least there's some
greenery around to enjoy, nothing like a good walk in
the open air. If it was good enough for my
grandfather, then it's good enough for my grandson.
Not like London. Words can't describe my contempt for
that awful place. A city is made up of its people,
and our capital seems to be a magnet for the very
worst kind. I wonder if Adam can remember his time
there with his father? Going back a few years now,
but anyway, a conversation for another time I think.
I pull over and unleash him on the wild-life, God help
them.
"I like tractors. But I think I like the trains in
London best."
To say he takes me by surprise is a bit of an
understatement. This guy's going to be the best of
us.
"So, what do you like about trains so much then?" I
ask, unsure as to whether he means the tube or not.
"Well, you can speak to other people. And do other
things like read a book if you want. And they're
free, cars are a lot of money."
I watch him contemplating what he's going to say next,
as he tears another slice of bread into small lumps.
"And fast. Fast, fast, FAST!" He hurls another piece
of bread at the eager ducks. So how do I approach the
subject? What if I spoil everything and he just wants
to go home? Rose has asked me before to have
semi-serious chats with him now and again. 'You're
the man of the house now, dad' she'd said. She was
worried he wouldn't always open up to her, what with
them being cooped up together so much. Rose had
wanted Adam to know that there was always someone else
he could go to if he needed.
"Now don't get too close to the edge. There's no
rush." No, no rush at all. "Your daddy liked the
trains, didn't he?"
And with that he freezes. He fixes me with a puzzling
look. I'm barely aware of my heartbeat.
"He still does, Grandad. He goes on them all the
time."
"Right." So, here goes. "When do you see your
father, Adam?" I hear him sigh.
"I don't see him. Just hear him."
"And when do you talk?"
"Umm, sometimes at night. Not every night. I heard
him at school once, he told me Andrew wanted my Batman
lunch-box and was waiting for me. Mrs Ross took me to
the gate."
"Do you hear him in your dreams?"
"No," he brightens "All my bad dreams go away now. He
told me all I have to think about is how much my mommy
and daddy love me and then they'll go."
I'm so glad to hear it, for Rose's sake too. She can
at least sleep now with one less worry on her mind.
"I have good dreams now. I can stick to walls!"
He immediately spreads his arms and legs in his now
familiar Spider-pose. And with that he turns and
screams at the ducks, delighted at the ensuing panic
he causes. Funny kid. I'm tempted to ask more but
the last few weeks have seen a transformation in him.
Gone are the tears and tantrums, same with the
nightmares. His schoolwork is back on track, now that
he's talking to his teachers again. Hasn't bitten Mr
Ford in a while now. I watch him now as he runs
around with his arms outstretched making aeroplane
noises, and I think how can I tell him the truth?
That nothing less than a miracle, he'll never see his
father again.
I never really liked Sundays as a girl. I'm sure it
was the same for every kid - Sunday: God is watching,
so don't do anything! I can remember just sitting
there in the living room, my parents fast asleep on
the settee, I felt like I couldn't breathe for fear of
waking them up. I was so sure God was on the
television, keeping an eye on me through all three
channels. I chuckle as I remember sitting quietly
with the sound turned down, lest Thora Hird should
start effin' and blindin', startling the folks.
Could've happened! Nowadays Adam has three channels
of Fox Kids all to himself and I conduct my sex-life
during the free minutes of the Adult Channel late at
night. Hmm...perhaps best not to be thinking of this
whilst doing the washing-up with your father.
"Always used to love Sundays, y'know," says dad as he
drys the dishes with gun-to-head enthusiasm. "My one
day-off to rest with my loved ones. No work, no
bills, over-time or Huddersfield losing away to
Barnsley. Tsch, bloody Barnsley, always got soaked at
their place."
I shake my head as dad falls prey to that great male
trap - Lost In Football.
"Erm, you were saying? Sundays?"
"Oh sorry Rosie," his eyes re-focus, "Your mother used
to put on a lovely roast dinner, just right it was.
And there was nothing like a kip after, the Sunday
papers on my lap." I hear him sigh.
"I thought ours was the perfect family, you and mom
loved each other and me so much. I grew up happy and
safe, dad. You both did a fine job bringing me up, I
hope you know that, dad." I'd hug him but I don't
want my wet rubber gloves to ruin his shirt.
"I know love, I only have to see you with Adam to
realise it."
I see the expression on his face alter and know he's
thinking about mom. An expression of love but with
relief at what she had to go through finally ending.
"Strange when I realised I enjoyed missing your
mother. Even after she'd died, I always had the
feeling she was watching over me, tutting at my
toe-nail clippings and abortive attempts at cooking.
And then she was gone, and I knew she was gone for
good. Kept me from going do-dally for a while
though."
He knocks his knuckles against his bald head. I know
where I get the old laugh-in-the-face-of-adversity
spirit from.
"Remarkable woman your mother, never met someone so
independant yet so loving and loyal. 'Cept you of
course, eh? Came into my life at just the right time
she did. I'd nearly given up on that elusive woman
I'd call my wife. But then she took my hand and
suddenly everything was...wonderful. She gave me her
life, then she gave me yours." He kisses my forehead
as he finishes the last plate. "Right then young
lady, let's you and me talk about those goosebumps you
got all throughout dinner."
What!?!
I make us both tea, forgetting for the moment that my
father is the world's greatest detective. Could never
keep anything from him, but what's there to tell now?
"I don't know what it is," I watch my dad studying me,
cocking his head to see if I'm telling the truth.
"They're just stupid bloody goosebumps. All that
happens is I get them here in the house, sometimes for
hours on end, sometimes not for days."
"Well. You don't look like you're in any danger. In
fact, you seem to be returning a little to your old
self, slowly."
"Thank you. I did put it down to stress after
everything that happened. But work's okay now, Adam's
getting better, so...I'm stumped." I smile back,
weakly.
"Are you sure you're okay?" My dad asks as he gets up
from 'his' chair.
"Yeh, I'm sure. And yes I know, if anything else I'll
let you know."
It's 8 o'clock and he heads for the stairs so he can
kiss his grandson goodnight. Whether Adam was awake
or not, it was something he always did before he left
the house. He would kiss the top of his head and tell
him how much he loved him. And if he knew I was
upstairs, he knew I'd be listening too. Regular
Atticus Finch, my old man.
Mummy doesn't like me picking my nose. Says it's
horrible. Daddy doesn't mind, he says girls don't
like boys with bogies up their nose. Daddy used to
chase me around the house singing 'Bogies, bogies, we
gotta get Adam's bogies'! That was funny. I'm sleepy
now. I can see Spider-Man's shape on the wall, he can
stick to walls like me. Mom and Grandad are going to
take me to the pictures to see the Spider-Man film. I
want popcorn again like when I saw Digimon. Popcorn
is only for the pictures. I can hear the stairs,
Grandad is going to say goodnight. The ducks were
good today. Shall I pretend to be sleeping and then
surprise him?
"Are you awake Adam?"
"No." I say it quietly. He thinks I'm sleeping now.
"Time for me to go home now, hope you had a nice time
today. I enjoyed myself too, you little nana."
Grandad makes me smile. I'm going to sleep now.
"You look after your mother, okay? And I'll see you
shortly." Grandad kisses my hair with his moustache.
"Know how much I love you?"
I open my eyes, I know Grandad will be standing with
his arms wide open. I can see him in my night-light.
"This much."
I think I can see tears in his eyes, but I think he's
being happy. "And maybe a little bit more, Grandad?"
Grandad always says this.
"And maybe a little bit more. Night Adam."
"Goodnight Grandad," I whisper. I close my eyes when
he goes. Want to watch Digimon tomorrow after school.
And have Coco-Pops. I can hear the front door shut.
"Daddy? Can I have a story tomorrow night instead?
I'm tired now. About dragons."
"Sure you can, Adam. Goodnight son."
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A Part Of Me
STH
Goosebumps, damn. And why am I getting goosebumps
again? The central heating's going like crazy and all
the doors and windows are locked tight - what with me
living on my own and all. Well, technically I'm a
single parent now, but no-one likes that label. No
matter how liberal this age is, nothing gives the
impression 'wayward mother' better. Even if the truth
couldn't be further from it...
"Daddy read me a story last night."
No, not again. I've heard this before and each time
my heart brakes a little. Do I have The Chat with him
again? How on earth did I develop the ability to tell
him important things he needs to know, so
nonchalently? And who's going to talk to me, where's
my help? I'm sure I had a talk with him last week, or
was it earlier this week? I don't know, but I'm tired
baby, I'm sorry. Maybe I should try another tack.
"Have you been dreaming good dreams, sweetboy?" I tip
him a wink.
"Umm...suppose so." This is his standard answer for
anything he hadn't really considered but knew the
wrong answer wouldn't result in a telling-off.
"Well, you know the Sandman only rewards good boys
with good dreams, don't you?"
"Mmm", he nodded whilst eating his strawberry yogurt.
Of course he usually craved chocolate at this hour but
yogurt was a good compromise, I felt. The last thing
both of us needed at 8.30 was another energy rush, the
little blighter.
"But I cried at the end of Pokemon yesterday, Mom."
His eyes find mine.
"That's okay, crying when something is sad is fine.
The Sandman knows you're a good boy."
"Good. Daddy said I've got to be a good guy 'cos
there's too much baddies around."
How can he do it? How can he tell me something like
that, something to start a new set of tears when I'm
alone and the house is quiet? Because he's his
father's boy, that's why.
"Yeah, he's safe in bed. Actually I say safe but
there's this damn draft somewhere downstairs, always
so goddamned nippy."
"Firstly, there are no drafts. Nothing is more
important to me than the safety of my girl and only
grandson. And secondly, watch your language Rose."
I smile into the phone.
"Sorry dad." Who'd have thought that the same voice
that terrorised my teenage years, I'd now be taking
comfort in when being ticked-off?
"Look I was thinking. What do I do about my name?
And Adam's?"
"Adam is a fine name. Especially in this day and
age."
"No, our surname: Hess? I'm not sure when I'm
officially meant to change back to my maiden name. I
mean, I don't mind but what about Adam? You know what
school kids can be like."
"I'm not 100% sure. But I can find out for you. As
far as I know you can revert back whenever you feel
like it, but Adam's a Hess until he decides otherwise,
dear."
How can I tell my father that all it takes is one
stupid bill to arrive in his name is all it takes to
set me off again?
"Just remember, you've a good maiden name - and I
should know!"
"Ha! Okay Mr Wakadoo," his nick-name from his school
days - although how children of the 40's had got
Wakadoo from Walker I'll never know.
"I'll see you early tomorrow, Adam's positively
chomping at the bit to see you."
"Okay, love you Rosie."
"You too dad, bye."
Now how about that! I can still remember such fearful
conversations with dad, seemed like for a decade I
could do nothing right. Now here we are just fine 'n'
dandy. Shame we'll both be going to an empty bed
tonight. Still, it's never too long before Adam
decides to pay me a visit at some ungodly hour. I
hope he comes tonight.
"Mom? Can I come in?"
One day I'll have to say no. But not tonight, and not
for a while either. At least he asks now, gone are
the nights I'd roll over on him oblivious to his
creeping in. Or worse, a surprise kick in the fanny
in the middle of the night.
"Of course you can, darling." I watch him climb into
his father's side of the bed (the side facing the door
- important that), his hand searches for mine.
"Hey fella, where's my extra kiss goodnight, then?" I
tease as he ends up planting a kiss on my nose.
"Daddy didn't read to me tonight. I think I missed
him."
"I miss him too Adam, sleep tight."
My father arrives early the next morning, I know he'll
be grouchy from the roundabouts in Milton Keynes but
he'll put on a brave face for his grandson. Actually,
his mood will depend on whoever opens the door to him
first. Unfortunately, it's me, Adam being too
engrossed in his favourite Sunday morning cartoons.
"Hi Dad, how are you?" I ask knowing full well his
reply.
"Bloody roundabouts and stupid women drivers, this
town is just full of 'em. Bane of my life, Rose."
We brush past the lounge into the kitchen, dad checks
his head in to see Adam but is content to leave him
undisturbed with the television.
"Still not shaved it off, eh?" I felt I had to rile
him over his 'new' moustache everytime I saw him.
Part of his make-over when he made the move down here,
I still can't get totally used to it.
"I had a comparison to Sean Connery the other day, so
it must be working."
"He's tall, Dad...and good looking." I kidded him.
"Hey!" His sense of humour intact as ever.
"So which blue-haired old dear have you your eye on
this week?"
"Well, it was the Postman who said it," he caught my
grin, "But I can only agree with him, nevertheless.
And how's my little soldier?" He nodded toward the
lounge.
"Fine, I think. I had a good talk with him last week,
seemed to have done the trick, but-"
"No nightmares?" He took his coat off, I knew it
pained him to hear of anything like this, "Is he
sleeping okay now?"
"Yes, he's improved ever so much lately." Should I
tell him? Well, who else can you go to Rose? Right
now there are only two people you can trust with all
your heart, and they're both here in this house.
"He's been claiming his father's been reading to him
at bed-times some nights."
"Really? You hadn't thought to mention this to me?"
Please don't be cross dad, not now.
"No, well, it's just that he's been so good lately - I
didn't want to say." Actually he's slept better ever
since he's convinced himself his father's been-
"Grandad!"
And here he was, a blur of red and yellow pjamas, as
he launches himself into his grandad's arms.
"And how are we, special-boy?" Said dad already
noticing Adam eyeing the bag he'd brought with him.
"I'm alright, thank you. Have you bought something
nice, grandad?" My boy beams a smile at him.
"Brought, dear heart, brought." He ruffles Adam's
hair. "And yes I have, take a look."
He knew I'd asked him not to bring toys with him on
every visit but he'd always arrive armed with
something. Said he liked the big department stores,
the bustle of families, parents trying to control
their offspring. Said it reminded him of shopping
with me and mom years ago.
"DUCKS! Look mom! We're going to feed the ducks."
Such joy on the face of a six year old, all for the
price of half a loaf of bread. Amazing.
"And the sooner you get dressed young man, the quicker
we can get out, eh?"
"Riiiighht!" He races upstairs.
"Thank you, dad." I put my arms around him.
"S'alright, Rosie. Just doing my job." At times like
this I never want to let go. "You want me to talk
to him, about his bed-time?"
"Please. Nothing too much, just...y'know."
"Course, my love. And I want that dinner on the table
promptly, right?" He wagged his finger at me
mischievously. I chuckled, but damnit - there it goes
again. Goosebumps.
"Dad, er, I know I've only got a t-shirt on. But is
it me or do you feel a chill?"
"Sorry Rosie," he shrugged "But I guess it's just you."
"Grandad? Can I have the music on?"
"I don't see why not, soldier," I fiddle with the
buttons whilst navigating yet another roundabout.
"Legoland!"
My, he catches on fast, "Now don't let your mother
hear you say that, Adam. That's just my little name
for Milton Keynes. Best we keep it a secret, eh?" I
put my finger to my mouth.
"Alright."
I tip him a wink as he smiles. Still funny to call
this place home. I know it's not a bad place; quite
the opposite, nice and safe to bring up this little
one. It's just that everything's so new,
so...manufactured. No sense of history, not like my
hometown. Back in Huddersfield...no, plenty of time
later to go over the past. Right now I'm glad I moved
here. At this stage in life you need the people you
love close to you. But why did it take me so long to
find that out?
"Tractor! Red one."
Lucky for that seat-belt or I'm sure he'd have been up
and away out the sun-roof. At least there's some
greenery around to enjoy, nothing like a good walk in
the open air. If it was good enough for my
grandfather, then it's good enough for my grandson.
Not like London. Words can't describe my contempt for
that awful place. A city is made up of its people,
and our capital seems to be a magnet for the very
worst kind. I wonder if Adam can remember his time
there with his father? Going back a few years now,
but anyway, a conversation for another time I think.
I pull over and unleash him on the wild-life, God help
them.
"I like tractors. But I think I like the trains in
London best."
To say he takes me by surprise is a bit of an
understatement. This guy's going to be the best of
us.
"So, what do you like about trains so much then?" I
ask, unsure as to whether he means the tube or not.
"Well, you can speak to other people. And do other
things like read a book if you want. And they're
free, cars are a lot of money."
I watch him contemplating what he's going to say next,
as he tears another slice of bread into small lumps.
"And fast. Fast, fast, FAST!" He hurls another piece
of bread at the eager ducks. So how do I approach the
subject? What if I spoil everything and he just wants
to go home? Rose has asked me before to have
semi-serious chats with him now and again. 'You're
the man of the house now, dad' she'd said. She was
worried he wouldn't always open up to her, what with
them being cooped up together so much. Rose had
wanted Adam to know that there was always someone else
he could go to if he needed.
"Now don't get too close to the edge. There's no
rush." No, no rush at all. "Your daddy liked the
trains, didn't he?"
And with that he freezes. He fixes me with a puzzling
look. I'm barely aware of my heartbeat.
"He still does, Grandad. He goes on them all the
time."
"Right." So, here goes. "When do you see your
father, Adam?" I hear him sigh.
"I don't see him. Just hear him."
"And when do you talk?"
"Umm, sometimes at night. Not every night. I heard
him at school once, he told me Andrew wanted my Batman
lunch-box and was waiting for me. Mrs Ross took me to
the gate."
"Do you hear him in your dreams?"
"No," he brightens "All my bad dreams go away now. He
told me all I have to think about is how much my mommy
and daddy love me and then they'll go."
I'm so glad to hear it, for Rose's sake too. She can
at least sleep now with one less worry on her mind.
"I have good dreams now. I can stick to walls!"
He immediately spreads his arms and legs in his now
familiar Spider-pose. And with that he turns and
screams at the ducks, delighted at the ensuing panic
he causes. Funny kid. I'm tempted to ask more but
the last few weeks have seen a transformation in him.
Gone are the tears and tantrums, same with the
nightmares. His schoolwork is back on track, now that
he's talking to his teachers again. Hasn't bitten Mr
Ford in a while now. I watch him now as he runs
around with his arms outstretched making aeroplane
noises, and I think how can I tell him the truth?
That nothing less than a miracle, he'll never see his
father again.
I never really liked Sundays as a girl. I'm sure it
was the same for every kid - Sunday: God is watching,
so don't do anything! I can remember just sitting
there in the living room, my parents fast asleep on
the settee, I felt like I couldn't breathe for fear of
waking them up. I was so sure God was on the
television, keeping an eye on me through all three
channels. I chuckle as I remember sitting quietly
with the sound turned down, lest Thora Hird should
start effin' and blindin', startling the folks.
Could've happened! Nowadays Adam has three channels
of Fox Kids all to himself and I conduct my sex-life
during the free minutes of the Adult Channel late at
night. Hmm...perhaps best not to be thinking of this
whilst doing the washing-up with your father.
"Always used to love Sundays, y'know," says dad as he
drys the dishes with gun-to-head enthusiasm. "My one
day-off to rest with my loved ones. No work, no
bills, over-time or Huddersfield losing away to
Barnsley. Tsch, bloody Barnsley, always got soaked at
their place."
I shake my head as dad falls prey to that great male
trap - Lost In Football.
"Erm, you were saying? Sundays?"
"Oh sorry Rosie," his eyes re-focus, "Your mother used
to put on a lovely roast dinner, just right it was.
And there was nothing like a kip after, the Sunday
papers on my lap." I hear him sigh.
"I thought ours was the perfect family, you and mom
loved each other and me so much. I grew up happy and
safe, dad. You both did a fine job bringing me up, I
hope you know that, dad." I'd hug him but I don't
want my wet rubber gloves to ruin his shirt.
"I know love, I only have to see you with Adam to
realise it."
I see the expression on his face alter and know he's
thinking about mom. An expression of love but with
relief at what she had to go through finally ending.
"Strange when I realised I enjoyed missing your
mother. Even after she'd died, I always had the
feeling she was watching over me, tutting at my
toe-nail clippings and abortive attempts at cooking.
And then she was gone, and I knew she was gone for
good. Kept me from going do-dally for a while
though."
He knocks his knuckles against his bald head. I know
where I get the old laugh-in-the-face-of-adversity
spirit from.
"Remarkable woman your mother, never met someone so
independant yet so loving and loyal. 'Cept you of
course, eh? Came into my life at just the right time
she did. I'd nearly given up on that elusive woman
I'd call my wife. But then she took my hand and
suddenly everything was...wonderful. She gave me her
life, then she gave me yours." He kisses my forehead
as he finishes the last plate. "Right then young
lady, let's you and me talk about those goosebumps you
got all throughout dinner."
What!?!
I make us both tea, forgetting for the moment that my
father is the world's greatest detective. Could never
keep anything from him, but what's there to tell now?
"I don't know what it is," I watch my dad studying me,
cocking his head to see if I'm telling the truth.
"They're just stupid bloody goosebumps. All that
happens is I get them here in the house, sometimes for
hours on end, sometimes not for days."
"Well. You don't look like you're in any danger. In
fact, you seem to be returning a little to your old
self, slowly."
"Thank you. I did put it down to stress after
everything that happened. But work's okay now, Adam's
getting better, so...I'm stumped." I smile back,
weakly.
"Are you sure you're okay?" My dad asks as he gets up
from 'his' chair.
"Yeh, I'm sure. And yes I know, if anything else I'll
let you know."
It's 8 o'clock and he heads for the stairs so he can
kiss his grandson goodnight. Whether Adam was awake
or not, it was something he always did before he left
the house. He would kiss the top of his head and tell
him how much he loved him. And if he knew I was
upstairs, he knew I'd be listening too. Regular
Atticus Finch, my old man.
Mummy doesn't like me picking my nose. Says it's
horrible. Daddy doesn't mind, he says girls don't
like boys with bogies up their nose. Daddy used to
chase me around the house singing 'Bogies, bogies, we
gotta get Adam's bogies'! That was funny. I'm sleepy
now. I can see Spider-Man's shape on the wall, he can
stick to walls like me. Mom and Grandad are going to
take me to the pictures to see the Spider-Man film. I
want popcorn again like when I saw Digimon. Popcorn
is only for the pictures. I can hear the stairs,
Grandad is going to say goodnight. The ducks were
good today. Shall I pretend to be sleeping and then
surprise him?
"Are you awake Adam?"
"No." I say it quietly. He thinks I'm sleeping now.
"Time for me to go home now, hope you had a nice time
today. I enjoyed myself too, you little nana."
Grandad makes me smile. I'm going to sleep now.
"You look after your mother, okay? And I'll see you
shortly." Grandad kisses my hair with his moustache.
"Know how much I love you?"
I open my eyes, I know Grandad will be standing with
his arms wide open. I can see him in my night-light.
"This much."
I think I can see tears in his eyes, but I think he's
being happy. "And maybe a little bit more, Grandad?"
Grandad always says this.
"And maybe a little bit more. Night Adam."
"Goodnight Grandad," I whisper. I close my eyes when
he goes. Want to watch Digimon tomorrow after school.
And have Coco-Pops. I can hear the front door shut.
"Daddy? Can I have a story tomorrow night instead?
I'm tired now. About dragons."
"Sure you can, Adam. Goodnight son."
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