A light had gone out of my life and nothing would ever be the same again. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t – I hadn’t cried since the night Daddy died. Mum was crying all the time, so was Brenda, and I was trying to be strong for them but I didn’t feel strong, I didn’t feel anything. I felt so empty, there was this big hole inside me that couldn’t be filled. I ached for my daddy, I wanted him back; I wanted to go back to a time when we were happy. Pushing Brenda along the seafront in the squeaky pushchair, skimming stones on the sea, running across the Downs, tumbling in the grass, feeling his arms around me. I knew that if I started to cry I would never stop, so I kept everything inside. I was finding it harder and harder to picture Daddy’s lovely face. At night in bed I concentrated really hard. I remembered bits of him, like his eyes and his smile. I could smell the margarine that he smoothed on his hair but I could never find the whole of him; I could never put all the bits together. I didn’t even have a photo to look at because we had never owned a camera, only rich people had cameras.
Mostly people were kind but they never knew what to say to us. They touched my arm and ruffled Brenda’s hair. Some people said, ‘I’m sorry for your trouble.’ Of course there were the nosy old biddies on the estate that pretended to care but really just wanted me to tell them all the gory details. I told them to bugger off.
The last of the rich ladies sent Mum home because she was upsetting the children with all her crying, so that was the end of the rich ladies and Mum didn’t have a job. I didn’t know what to do, because there was no money to pay the rent or buy food. If something didn’t happen soon, me and Brenda would end up in an orphanage, just like Nelson. Aunty Marge and Uncle John helped as much as they could but they didn’t have much themselves. Aunty Vera and Uncle Fred were the only ones with the money and we hadn’t seen sight nor sound of them since we chucked them out of Jack’s house. Not that any of us wanted their rotten money.
Early one morning, while it was still dark, I shook Brenda awake and told her to get ready for school.
‘But it’s the middle of the night, Maureen,’ she said sleepily.
‘There’s no money for the tram fare, we’re going to have to walk.’
I desperately needed to get out of the house. Mom just sat around crying and staring at the walls. She didn’t cook or wash our clothes. There were times when I thought that we might be better off in an orphanage because at least we’d get to eat. I was racking my brains trying to think of a way to make Mum wake up and start looking after us. Funnily enough, it was old Aquinas that made that happen.
I was called out of an English lesson and told that I was to go at once to Aquinas’s office.
‘What does she want?’ said Monica, looking worried.
‘I’m about to find out,’ I said.
When I got there Brenda was already standing in front of the old bat’s desk, looking terrified. I smiled reassuringly at her and held her hand.
‘Right,’ said Aquinas, standing up and glaring at us. ‘It has come to my attention that your father is dead. Is that right?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ I said.
‘And not only is he dead but he took his own life?’
There was not a spark of sympathy in those spiteful eyes. I could feel Brenda shaking beside me.
‘So what have you got to say for yourself, Maureen O’Connell?’
‘Nothing, Sister.’
‘Nothing, Sister,’ she mimicked in a sing-song voice.
I was confused. What the bloody hell did she expect me to say?
Aquinas was going red in the face, as if she couldn’t get all that nastiness out of her mouth quick enough.
‘The reason you have nothing to say, Maureen O’Connell, is because of your shame.’
I stared at her and said quietly, ‘I have nothing to be ashamed of, Sister.’
‘How dare you stand there, as brazen as you like, Maureen O’Connell, knowing your father has sinned against God. Your father has driven a knife into the very heart of our Divine Saviour.’
‘When did he do that, Maureen?’ asked Brenda, looking up at me with tears in her eyes.
‘He didn’t, Brenda, she’s talking out of the back of her head.’
Aquinas slammed her hand down on the desk. ‘Your father died in a state of mortal sin and he will burn in the fires of Hell for all eternity!’ she screamed.
I could see the sweat running down her ugly fat face and disappearing into her wimple.
‘No he won’t!’ yelled Brenda. ‘My dada is with the angels in Heaven, isn’t he, Maureen? Dada’s with the angels?’
‘Of course he is,’ I said.
Aquinas reached into her drawer and took out a long ruler. ‘The sins of the father will be visited on the children,’ she said, advancing towards Brenda.
Before I could stop her she’d whacked Brenda across the backs of her legs. Poor Brenda squealed and tried to get away from her but Aquinas grabbed hold of her arm and went to hit her again.
‘Get your hands off her!’ I yelled, pulling Brenda away, then I kicked her as hard as I could in the shins, grabbed Brenda’s hand and ran out of the office, down the corridor and out of the school gates. We ran and we ran until we couldn’t run anymore then we sat on a garden wall to get our breath back. Brenda was crying.
‘She’s going to kill us, Maureen.’
‘No she’s not, because we’re not going back.’
‘What, never?’
‘Never.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise. Now, let me have a look at you.’
Brenda stood up so that I could see what Aquinas had done. There was an angry red mark across both her legs.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Yes,’ said Brenda tearfully.
‘She’s a mean, cruel cow,’ I said.
‘I don’t think you should say that about a Bride of Christ, Maureen.’
‘She’s no Bride of Christ, Brenda,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘If I was God, I’d divorce her,’ said Brenda.
‘If I was God, I’d bloody kill her!’
I put my arm around her and we started the long walk home.
‘Did you see her face when I kicked her?’ I said.
‘She didn’t look happy, Maureen.’
‘She wasn’t meant to, Brenda. Vicious old witch!’
‘Maureen!’ said Brenda.
‘Brenda!’ I said. Then we both started giggling and then I stopped because I shouldn’t be giggling, my daddy was dead.
When we eventually got home, Mum was nowhere to be seen, even though her coat was hanging on the hook and her old brown bag was on the back of the kitchen chair. We walked out into the garden. I was getting a pain in my tummy. Don’t tell me she’s topped herself as well, I thought. Then I looked at the shed.
I didn’t want to go in there because that was where Daddy had died. He hadn’t topped himself in the house at all, he’d done it in the shed. Those boys had lied about blood dripping down the walls. None of us had gone anywhere near the shed since it happened and I didn’t want to go in there now.
I put Brenda behind me and slowly opened the door. I was relieved to see Mum sitting there on the floor, just sitting there. She looked up at us and smiled, as if sitting on the shed floor was the most natural thing in the world.
‘What are you doing in here, Mum?’ I said gently. ‘You shouldn’t be in here.’
She smiled at me sadly. ‘Your daddy’s here.’
My daddy wasn’t here, only sadness was here. ‘Please come into the house, Mum,’ I said. ‘You need to bathe Brenda’s leg.’
‘Brenda’s leg?’ she said, looking confused.
‘Sister Aquinas belted Brenda across her legs.’
Mum stared at me. ‘She did what?’
‘She whacked me across the legs, Mum, because Dada had topped himself and she said he was going to burn in Hell for the rest of eternity.’
‘She said what?’ said Mum.
‘That’s what she said, didn’t she, Maureen?’
I nodded.
‘And she said that Dada had driven a knife into our Divine Saviour’s heart but I don’t remember him doing that.’
‘Brenda, show Mum your legs.’
Brenda turned around and lifted up her skirt.
‘A nun did that?’ said Mum.
Brenda nodded.
‘Your daddy is up in Heaven,’ said Mum, ‘and he’s looking down on you right at this minute.’
‘He’s looking down on you too, Mum,’ I said gently. ‘And I don’t think he would like to see you sitting on the shed floor.’
Mum smiled. ‘You are so like your daddy, Maureen, so like your daddy.’
Me and Brenda sat down on the dirty shed floor next to Mum, she put her arms around us and held us tightly. Then we helped her to get up and the three of us walked back up the garden and into the kitchen.
‘Sit down, girls,’ said Mum. ‘I need to talk to you.’
Me and Brenda sat down at the kitchen table and waited for Mum to speak.
‘I know that I have let you down…’ she began.
‘No you haven’t,’ I said quickly.
‘Hush, Maureen, let me speak.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Not only have I let you down but I’ve let your daddy down as well. I’ve been so full of my own grief that I haven’t been able to help you with yours and I am so sorry. Your daddy had been ill for a very long time but he did his best and no daddy loved his family more than your daddy did. I believe that, in the end, the struggle to stay with us became too hard for him and he had to go. And so now we will keep him in our hearts and we will smile when we think of him, knowing that he is at peace and all his pain has gone away. We wouldn’t want him to come back and be sad again, would we?’
I could feel Brenda’s leg against mine and I held her hand under the table. ‘No, Mummy,’ she said, ‘we wouldn’t want him to be sad again.’
‘So now it’s just the three of us,’ said Mum, ‘and we are going to be OK, right?’
‘Right,’ said Brenda, smiling.
‘What about your job, Mum?’ I said.
‘I shall go round to see Mrs Feldman this very minute and tell her that I am ready to come back to work.’
‘Do you think she’ll take you back?’ I said.
‘She’d be a fool not to. I’m a good worker and she knows it.’
Mum picked up her old brown handbag and smiled at us. ‘Now, I want the pair of you to stop worrying because things are going to be different from now on, I promise you.’
That was the day me and Brenda got our mum back.