All of Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

cared what he was up to but Mum’s reaction had been suitably explosive. In hindsight, I didn’t know how I’d missed it.
    Dad, Lorraine explained, had been carrying on with another woman for a while. When Mum found out she’d exploded – as had Dad’s sister, Ivy. Apparently they’d both gone round to see this ‘other woman’ but they’d done more than see her. I don’t know who did what but Dad’s girlfriend got one hell of a beating. Ivy, apparently, had to be stopped from strangling her. Dad had apologised, said it was over, but Mum wouldn’t let it lie so eventually he and the woman had run off together.
    I listened to Lorraine, stunned. It all seemed a bit unreal. Then I remembered the kid in my class and it brought the situation home. That’s why he’d started saying those things about my mother. He wasn’t a bully. He was just really upset. If anything he’d been looking for a friend who could sympathise with the mess his home life was in.
    And I didn’t have a clue anything was even wrong. Again, my ignorance was actually protecting me.
    I guess the boy’s family equalled the score. I still don’t know what drove Dad back home initially but Lorraine filled me in on why he was a day earlier than he’d promised.
    ‘The woman’s husband tracked them down. He gave Dad a right going over.’
    So it was a black eye.
    Poor Dad.
    Physical wounds heal of course and, within a couple of days, Dad’s eye was right as rain. Mum’s injuries were of the mental kind – she was mortified that the world suddenly knew our family’s business – and I don’t think she ever recovered. I remember her often telling me not to say ‘I hate’ about anyone. ‘You can dislike someone but you can never hate them,’ she used to say.
    But Mum hated that ‘other’ woman for ruining the façade of her happy marriage.
    Dad’s problems didn’t stay with me long. Nothing did, really. I always seemed to be rushing from one thought to another. A large proportion of my days were spent on things like just trying to keep up with a conversation. So often it seemed as though I’d walked in on something halfway when, judging from what was being said, I must have been there since the beginning. Lorraine knowing so much more about Mum and Dad’s set-up didn’t surprise me. Only knowing half the story was par for the course for me, whether it was at home, with friends – or at school.
    Schooldays passed in a blur. There were fun times, of course, and I had plenty of friends. They’re not what really stick in my memory, though. More often than not I just recall being punished for something I hadn’t done. The paint episode with Mrs Baldwin certainly wasn’t a one-off. She was always chasing me for something. And I lost count of the times I heard the head say, ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Kim.’
    ‘Kim’. Always Kim.
    I didn’t understand and I didn’t question. That’s just how it was.
    There were plenty of things I didn’t understand or query. Like why Mrs Baldwin never called my name from the register. Everyone else in the class heard their name and said, ‘Here, Miss.’ She never called mine. I used to worry she was marking me down as absent. Mum won’t believe me when I say I was here, I thought. I was in trouble so often why should she?
    But I never asked why.
    Tests were a problem for me as well. I never did very well. But who could blame me? Half the questions seemed to be about things I’d never been taught. I don’t know how the other kids managed to answer some of those things. They must be getting extra tuition at home, I thought. Or they’re cheating.
    There was no other explanation. I hadn’t missed a day at school all year. My attendance record was exemplary. But I swear I hadn’t heard of half the things they put in the exams. Or if I had, I certainly couldn’t remember them. My memory was bad, I was beginning to realise that. But not that bad, surely?
    Then there was