Daddy's Prisoner (25 page)

‘I understand if you don’t want to be a dad,’ I told Steven that night as we sat in my bedroom. ‘I know it’s all too fast and unexpected. Please don’t feel as if you have to stay with me, because you don’t.’

‘What do you mean?’ Steven asked.

‘I mean I’m going to have this baby but I’ll do it alone if I have to.’

I looked down at my hands lying in my lap. I might have sounded brave but how would I cope with a baby when I was only just learning to live an adult life myself ?

‘You’re not going to do this alone, Alice,’ Steven said.

I felt his arm around my shoulders as he pulled me to him.

‘I want you and I want our baby.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes.’

‘But we’ve only known each other a couple of months. How will we manage?’

‘We’ll be fine. I want to be with you both.’

‘You do?’

‘Of course.’

‘But why?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Steven said with a laugh as he hugged me. ‘Because I love you, Alice.’

A year after I ran away, I moved into a new home with Steven. The baby was due in a couple of months and sometimes I almost had to pinch myself. How could I be this happy?

‘Will it be a boy or a girl?’ Steven would ask as he stroked my huge tummy.

‘I don’t mind as long as our baby’s healthy,’ I’d reply.

When Steven hugged me to him, I felt safer than I ever had in my life. He’d got a job as a kitchen porter so we had a bit of money coming in, we were living in a lovely flat and I was going to be a mother. It was all I’d ever wanted and I felt happier than I’d ever imagined I could be. Just tiny ordinary things like cooking and cleaning or sitting with Steven chatting about the future and trying to guess what the baby would look like excited me.

Friends and relatives had been surprised by our news but were happy for us when they realised that Steven and I were going to stick together. They’d all rallied round to help and Steven had decorated our new flat with Michael and my cousin Sam. The other person who’d helped out was my brother Simon, who’d arrived on my doorstep more than ten years after running away from The Idiot. Simon had found me easily because the area I lived in was small and everyone knew everyone else. But I still couldn’t believe it when he turned up and I opened the door to see him.

‘Alice?’ he’d said as he stood on the doorstep, and I knew immediately that it was my younger brother.

I could hardly speak as I looked at Simon. I had thought so much about all the kids for so many years and now one of them was standing in front of me.

I was so happy and knew Mum would be too. We’d never spoken much about the kids in the years after they left but I knew she thought about them a lot. Simon was twenty-seven now and I’d often wondered where he was – just as I’d thought about where all my brothers and sisters had ended up and what kind of lives they’d had. We’d had the odd letter through the years: Laura had been in care for four years before leaving – moving from a children’s home to a foster family; Kate had been fostered ever since she was a little girl by the same family who’d wanted to adopt her while Charlie had been moved between foster carers and children’s homes. But it had been years since we’d had any real news and I was overwhelmed when Simon arrived back in my life.

It was bittersweet, though, because he felt like a stranger to me now that so many years had passed and he wasn’t the little brother I remembered any more. Slowly I discovered how hard his life had been – moving from home to home and never finding anywhere to settle. Simon had had a lot of health problems and, although he didn’t say it himself, it was obvious that he’d had as much trouble laying the past to rest as I had.

‘Let’s not go into all that,’ Simon would say if we came close to talking about it. ‘It was all long ago and I don’t want to know any more than I do.’

I respected his feelings and didn’t force him to talk about things. I felt the same way as he did and was glad Simon wasn’t dragging up the past. I was just happy to do whatever I could for my brother and told him he could stay with us for as long as he liked.

The one person I knew was spitting about my pregnancy was The Idiot. I hadn’t been able to keep it a secret from him however much I wanted to because Michael had told Mum. I knew Dad had predicted all along that I would get pregnant quickly and it upset me to think of him sneering about how right he’d been. But I told myself Steven and I would prove him wrong because this wasn’t just a flash in the pan whatever insults my father threw at us. Mum was happy and that was all that mattered to me. I’d seen her a couple of times in the year since The Idiot had made her slam the door in my face and the first occasion was not long after I’d moved out of Michael’s when Mum was admitted to hospital again.

‘I’ve got to go and see her,’ I said to Michael when he told me. ‘Dad won’t be looking after her properly. She won’t have clean clothes or underwear. She needs me to see to that for her.’

‘He won’t let you,’ my brother replied. ‘He’s already told me to tell you that you’re to stay away because you’re not wanted.’

My blood boiled when I heard the message from Dad. What right had he to try to push me around even now? Who was he to tell me what to do? I couldn’t stop thinking about it until one afternoon a few days later when I was at Michael’s flat having a cup of tea with Julie and looked out of the window to see Dad’s car outside. Michael was standing by the car talking to him.

Without a word, I left the flat and walked downstairs. I’d known ever since running away that this day would come. I couldn’t disappear and never see him again; there was Mum to think of and Michael was still in contact with him. However much I hated The Idiot, I was going to have to keep his secrets even now I was free and I was prepared to do it as long as he left me alone and let me see Mum now and again.

But still my stomach flipped as I walked outside and saw Dad’s familiar figure hunched in the front seat. Taking a deep breath, I walked up to the window and knocked on the glass. The Idiot’s eyes were pure hate as he opened the window and I took another deep breath as he looked at me. I wouldn’t let him see that I was scared of him any more. I’d bury it so deep that he wouldn’t know and have power over me again. I was stronger now; I’d defied him and run away, I was building a new life.

‘I’d like to take some things up to Mum,’ I said as he looked at me. ‘She’ll need a few bits and I want to see her.’

My stomach churned as I spoke and I wished my heart would stop hammering.

‘Get the fuck out of my sight,’ The Idiot spat as he stared ahead. ‘She doesn’t want to see you.’

‘I’m sure she does.’

‘No, she doesn’t. Don’t you get it, you stupid bitch? You’re not her daughter any more. You’re nothing to us.’

‘But you can’t tell me what to do!’ I screamed.

My bravery dissolved the moment I saw The Idiot’s black eyes boring into me – daring me to answer back again. Suddenly I felt like a little girl. It was as if I was in the living room when I was six years old, watching him scream at me and wondering when he’d hurt me, how quickly I’d have to move to dodge his fists.

‘What?’ he spat. ‘Shut the fuck up and get away from me.’

Michael stepped forward.

‘Come on, Dad. Why don’t you let Alice take a few things up?’

‘Because she’s nothing to do with us now.’

Without another word, Dad wound up the window as I stood shaking on the pavement. Why couldn’t I stand up to him even now? I’d felt so much braver since leaving home but the moment I saw him, I was as terrified as I ever had been. When would I grow up and stop being scared?

As Dad drove the car away, I told myself that The Idiot wasn’t going to stop me this time. I might not be able to stand up to him face to face but I was going to see Mum whether he liked it or not. That night, I waited until visiting hours were over before going up to the hospital and sneaking on to the ward where Mum was being treated. The nurses kindly agreed to let me in as long as I was quick. Mum’s blood pressure was far too high again and she’d had a bad angina attack so she needed a lot of rest.

‘Mum?’ I whispered as I stood by her bed.

I touched her hand gently. She was sleeping propped up on pillows and didn’t answer. There was a bruise on her cheek.

‘Mum?’ I said a little more loudly, and she opened her eyes.

‘Alice?’

‘Yes, Mum, it’s me.’

I sat down beside her and took her hand in mine.

‘I’ve come to see you. I wanted to know how you were.’

‘So-so,’ she said as she smiled. ‘How did you find out I was here?’

‘Michael told me. I wasn’t allowed to come but I had to.’

I was so happy to see her. I’d missed her so much. Guilt poured into me as I saw how sick she looked.

‘Let’s get you cleaned up and changed,’ I said.

A nurse helped me draw the curtains about the bed and I gently took off the hospital gown Mum was wearing. She was very breathless as I undressed her and I had to go slowly so as not to tire her out. But eventually we got her into a clean nightshirt and dressing gown before propping her back up on the pillows again.

‘Thanks, love,’ she said as she lay back down.

I stared at the bruise on her face.

‘Has he been hurting you?’

‘No.’

She didn’t look at me when she said it and I didn’t believe her. But we didn’t talk about it any more, just as we didn’t talk about the fact that I’d run away. Mum and I were used to keeping silent about things and I think we were both so pleased to see each other that nothing else mattered. For the next week while she was in hospital, I saw her every day – going in at the end of visiting hours to avoid bumping into Dad, which meant I could never stay long but was enough time to check she had everything she needed and talk to her a little.

‘How are things?’ I asked towards the end of the week.

We both knew she’d soon be going home again and that meant I wouldn’t be able to see her.

‘The same,’ she said.

When Mum was finally discharged from hospital, I knew she’d be running around for The Idiot the moment she got home. He was slowly killing her and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I longed for her to do what I had done but knew I couldn’t push her. She had to decide for herself.

The next time I saw Mum was after I’d found out I was pregnant and I took Steven with me when she was admitted to hospital again.

‘Look after her,’ Mum told him as we sat and chatted. ‘She’s so precious to me.’

‘I will,’ Steven replied.

I was all alone in the flat when I heard the doorbell ring and opened the door. He was standing waiting for me.

‘You knew I’d be back, didn’t you?’ The Idiot hissed.

I couldn’t move. There was no one with me. Steven was out. Dad pushed his way past me into the flat. The moment the door was closed, he started screaming.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are? You should have known better after all this time. Did you think I’d give up that easy?’

My throat was tight with fear; I couldn’t breathe as he stood in front of me. I could smell his bitter skin, see the spit cracked and dry in the corners of his mouth.

‘Cat got your tongue, then?’ he laughed. ‘Look at you – as fat as ever, useless little slag. Get in the bedroom.’

I didn’t move.

‘Now,’ he roared.

I knew I had to do as he said, just like always.

Without a word, I walked towards the bedroom and opened the door. My hands closed around my huge tummy as I felt him behind me, his breath on my neck as he pushed me towards the bed. I gasped as his hands closed around my neck. I knew what he wanted. I couldn’t get away. I’d never get away . . .

I opened my eyes.

I was lying in bed beside Steven and the grey half-light of early morning was coming in through the curtains. I could feel my face wet with tears and my heart thumping inside me.

‘Sssh,’ Steven said as he put his arms around me. ‘You’re okay. I’m here.’

‘I need a drink,’ I said as I pushed him away and got up out of bed.

I shut the bedroom door as I felt the tears rushing up inside me. Gasping for air, I walked into the bathroom and splashed my face with water before going into the living room and sitting down. I felt sick as I started crying and wrapped my hands around my belly. The dreams were like this all the time now. I couldn’t seem to stop them no matter how many times I told myself during the day that I had to forget. My mind just wouldn’t let me when I fell asleep and it all opened up inside me again. The Idiot was as real to me then as flesh and blood.

‘You’re safe at home,’ I said silently to myself over and over. ‘He won’t come here. He can’t touch you any more.’

I got up and went to get a photo album I kept in a drawer. Turning the pages, I stared at the few pictures I had of Caitlin and tried to remember the happy times with her. But other pictures kept filling my mind: Dad’s face twisted in rage, his fists being raised – just like in my dreams. There was one I had often in which I saw Mum and me trapped in a room together while he lashed out at us until we were bleeding and cut.