Mummy Knew Read Online Free PDF

heard Nanny muttering.
    ‘The sooner she gets rid of him, the better,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Says he’s a window cleaner but I bet he’s never done a day’s work in his life. He’s just sponging off her.’
    Dad seemed to sense their opinion, or maybe someone had told him, because he decided to use me as an emotional pawn. ‘If that old Geordie bitch thinks she’s seeing her again,’ he said, nodding towards me, ‘she’s got another think coming.’
    He knew how much it would upset Nanny to be denied access to me, and whenever he was upset with them or in a bad mood, I would be banned from going over the road. His temper wasn’t just taken out on Nanny, though. He’d punch walls, smash windows and rip cupboard doors off their hinges.Then he moved on to precious family mementos like photographs, ornaments and our meagre record collection. He didn’t care who the things belonged to, or what heartbreak he would cause by destroying them. The day he smashed Davie’s ship in a bottle, Davie gave a heart-wrenching wail before running out of the flat and going to stay with Nanny for a few days.
    ‘Go on, fuck off over there, you fucking nancy boy,’ Dad shouted after him. ‘How old’s he meant to be? Eleven?’
    Unbelievably, at times like this Mummy always sided with Dad. ‘He should put his stuff away. Stupid boy,’ she said, stooping down to pick up the thick shards of glass and the splintered wooden boat Davie had cherished for so long.
    ‘Cunt!’ said Dad, stalking back to his position on the sofa, a finger already poised to pull the ring on another can of extra-strength lager.
    I couldn’t understand why Mummy would let him do all these things, but she was different when he was around: giggly, and smiling, and always trying to catch his eye or get his attention. She never seemed to look at us any more.
    ‘She’s in love,’ Cheryl told me, raising her eyebrows, and next time I saw Dad, I peered at him, trying to figure out what it was that Mummy loved. He was tall and slim, but had a pot belly which he seemed proud of–‘It takes ten pints a night to get a gut like this,’ he used to boast–and his eyes were small and puffy above a long, sharp nose. Cheryl said he was fourteen years younger than Mummy, but he didn’t look it.
    ‘She thinks she’s landed the jackpot, doesn’t she?’ she remarked to Diane. ‘She didn’t think she’d get anyone else, not with four kids in tow.’
    ‘All my friends think he’s quite dishy,’ said Diane, ‘but I can’t see it myself. Have you seen the way he keeps scratching his arse? No thanks.’
    Within a few weeks of Dad’s arrival the flat’s assorted wounds were patched up with duct tape, unsanded mounds of polyfilla and pieces of corrugated cardboard in lieu of glass. The shelves were devoid of the photo frames and various knick-knacks that had previously made the flat home. Diane, Cheryl and Davie, being older than me, were able to spend more and more time out of the way–but as the youngest, I was trapped.
    I’d grown used to hearing the loud grunts and groans that came from Mummy’s bedroom at all hours of the day and night, but now they were often joined by the sound of Mummy screaming in pain. I cowered under my bed or down in the dark corner beside the wardrobe, forming myself into the smallest ball I could, petrified that Dad would come for me next. I wrapped my arms around my knees, and tried to block out the sound of Mummy begging him to calm down. But on and on went the terrible crashes and thuds until I felt my heart would explode in my chest and ears.
    Time and again the police were called by worried neighbours, but Mummy would simply go to the door, all indignant despite her battered face, and tell them to go away. ‘I told ’em to sling their bleedin’ hook. Interfering bastards.’
    One day, after she had sent the police away yet again, she went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I watched her spoon the sugar into the cup and