I grab the soft blanket that had been folded at the foot of my bed on my way through and set it on the arm of the chair while I make myself a cup of tea. I find a little tin next to the tea and coffee things and I'm pleased to find it full of biscuits. I take a couple, and my tea, back over to the chair and settle in with a book. I have the blanket tucked around my legs and feet as the chair is just big enough for my tiny self to curl up in. It's very cosy, especially with the added warmth from the tea. I blink a few times, staring down at the page and realise I have no idea what I've just read. I blink again, for longer this time and my head nods down onto my shoulder. Oh well I think, a little nap couldn't hurt.
I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes, just to rest a little...
I'm eleven, just, my birthday was only two weeks ago and I'd had such a lovely day with my grandmother. She had taken me for lunch at our favourite cafe and said I could have two desserts! She'd gotten me an ice cream milkshake too! But made me promise not to tell my mum, or Stephen. Maimeo didn't like Stephen, said he was 'too slick' so I didn't like him either. He was always giving me funny looks or ignoring me, just last week he'd 'forgotten' to call me down for dinner, they went out and I was left at home by myself for hours! I daren't tell though because then mum might get into trouble, and I didn't want that. No matter how much she tells me she wishes I was never born. I share my desserts with Maimeo, not even I could finish two slices of cake that big! She drives me home afterwards, and as she parks her car, which she called the rusty banana, she hands me a little square of tissue paper, it's a bright turquoise - my favourite colour - and tied with a navy blue ribbon with silver edging, it looks beautiful and I almost don't want to open it because it's so pretty. Carefully, so I don't tear the paper, I undo the little packet, unfolding the layers of thin paper to reveal a silver ring.
"It's a Claddagh, it belonged to your great grandmother, and her mother and grandmother before that. It has meaning a stor, the hands are for friendship, the heart for love and the crown for loyalty. Your Daideo's mother gave this to me as a wedding present as she didn't have any daughters of her own. She told me that once upon a time the ring said 'mo shiorghra' around the inside, which means 'my eternal love.' You take good care of it for me now, keep it safe OK?" I nodded in response and hastily put the ring in my pocket "Off you go now a stor, I'll see you soon. Happy Birthday!" She kissed my cheek and waved as I walked up the driveway. I waved back, giving her a big grin before stepping inside. She never made it home, someone drove her off the road and into a tree, her little old car had no hope of protecting her and she was killed on the spot.
Now, two weeks later I was standing outside a church, in the rain, as I watched them lower my grandmother's body into the ground. My eyes felt dry and itchy, my face hot as I tried desperately not to cry anymore than I already had. My head hurt from the tight plait my mother had pulled my hair into and the woollen tights I was wearing were itchy. I had my ring tucked away in the pocket of my black and grey tartan skirt, I'd kept it on me, even while I slept for the last two weeks. I had hidden it from my mother and Stephen, with good reason too, because about a week ago I'd come home from school to find all of my toys gone, all the dolls and teddies, the beads and pencils - all gone. I'd been left with some books, a pad of paper and a pencil. On checking the wardrobe I'd found something similar had happened in there too. I had been left with the basics, jeans, jumpers, underwear. I had mourned the loss of my things, silently of course, I'd not said a word to anyone since my birthday and my mother, and Stephen especially, seemed happy to keep it that way. I'd been told that I wasn't going to school anymore, that I didn't need to go because I could just learn at home. Leaving wasn't a problem for me, I loved school, but that was because I loved to learn not because of the other children. They were mean, or ignored me for the most part because I was small and skinny and shy. I would miss the younger children though, I had started to read them stories under the big tree at lunchtimes. I wondered, for a moment, if anyone would carry on with it now I was gone.
A noise turned my attention back to the hole that now held the coffin containing my maimeo, they had started shovelling the earth back in and a fresh wave of sadness washed over me, prickling my eyes again. I bit my lip and threatened the tears not to fall, she wouldn't want me sad. I knew that, but it didn't stop me missing her, it didn't stop me feeling like a piece of me was missing with her gone. As they finished patting down the earth over her my mother led me back to the black car we had arrived in, at the last minute I turned back to look at the modest headstone that read
'Gloria Evelyn Brennan, Loved and Greatly Missed.' followed by the dates of her birth and death - which were far too close together. I waggled my fingers in her direction then ducked my head into the car.
Fast forward six months and my life was vastly different without Maimeo, my mother had found herself in a bottle and Stephen, my stepfather, had become cruel. I felt like little Sara Crewe, hidden away and treated as a servant. It was now my job to keep the house spotlessly clean, cook meals, do the washing and anything else I was asked. There was one rule though; nobody must ever see or hear me. I was to remain hidden, to never speak to anyone, or leave the house.
However, the rules weren't imprinted in my brain yet as I rushed to answer the door, it was a Saturday so both my mother and stepfather were home, though my mother had yet to surface from her bedroom and my stepfather had sequestered himself in his office early this morning and I hadn't heard from him since. Catching sight of the red polo shirt of the Royal Mail through the glass I opened the door without a second thought.
"Morning little one, here you go. Doesn't need signing for, just too big to fit through the letterbox." The postman handed me a large cardboard box along with a few other letters, gave me a smile and turned back down the path whistling as he went. I looked at the label on the box, it was addressed to my stepfather, so decided to take it, along with the rest of the post, to his office. I knocked softly on the door and waited for him to answer before entering. The look he gave me when he saw the parcel in my arms was enough to make me start shaking.
"Where the fuck did you get that from?" He sounded angry already and my brain shorted out for a moment out of panic.
"U..Umm th.. the postman ga..gave i.. it to me." I stuttered nervously, flinching as he brought a hand down on his desk hard enough to jostle the laptop he had sitting there. His face darkened, and a kind of sick gleam shone in his eyes, I wanted nothing more than to drop the parcel and run far, far away from him and that scary expression. He stalked around to my side of the desk and looked me up and down for a moment before grabbing the large pair of scissors from the little stationary tray next to him. I eyed them warily, unsure of his plan, until he moved behind me and cut open my jumper. I flinched at the touch of the cold metal against my skin but tried to stay as still as possible. I'd already learnt that if I moved the punishment would be worse.
"I thought I told you not to open the door you stupid little bitch. Maybe I should help you remember the rules, give you a reminder not to break them again eh?" His voice was calm, but I knew that was when he was at his most dangerous, I shook my head vigorously.
"No sir. I'm sorry, it won't happen again sir." I said quietly, desperately, he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, hard, yanking my head back.
"Did I say you could speak? No I didn't." I heard a metallic noise, followed by a shuffling and I realised he had taken off his belt.
"Kneel bitch. You will learn to follow my rules. You will not make a sound, or drop that parcel do you understand me?" He hissed, and I nodded shakily, sinking to my knees. I closed my eyes steeling myself for the first blow. I tried not to make any noise, but a tiny whimper forced its way past my lips and the lashes stopped for a moment. I drew in a shuddering breath, hopeful that it was over and he'd decided I'd learned my lesson well enough for today.
It wasn't over. He hit me over and over again, after I made a sound he must have turned the belt around,using the buckle to strike my back. I clamped my lips together and gripped the box so tight my fingers turned white. Tears leaked from the corners of my tightly closed eyes and ran, unchecked down my face. My back was on fire, each lash causing a white flash to bloom behind my eyelids. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, it could have been an hour, it could have been ten minutes, it felt like an eternity. Eventually he either decided that I had been punished enough, or he grew bored and I was allowed to leave the room. I crawled into the bathroom and lay, panting, on the floor for a few moments before cleaning myself up carefully. Using whatever strength I had left I climbed the stairs and entered my bedroom, collapsing on the bed I passed out until morning.
"Bea? Come on wake up sweetness." a hushed voice startled me from my dreams and as my eyes opened I came face to face with a worried looking Jason. I blinked at him sleepily for a few seconds, trying to get my brain to come to life again.
"Jason?" My voice came out scratchy, and my throat felt sore, I rubbed at absently as I wondered just how long I'd been asleep, and how long Jason had been there. He handed me a glass of water which I accepted gratefully, taking a sip and clearing my throat a little.
"When did you get here? Did you finish your assignment already?" I asked hopefully. Jason shook his head then motioned for me to get up out of the chair, I stood, stretching out my limbs which felt cramped so I assumed I'd been sleeping for a while. He sat down heavily and pulled me onto his lap, I was sitting with my legs draped over the arm of the chair, nestled into his shoulder.
"I snuck out, I was too worried not to come see you. I needed to make sure you really were OK. I got here about half an hour ago, I didn't want to wake you but you started crying in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?" Jason had reached up and was lazily running his fingers through my hair as he spoke. That would explain why my eyes and throat were sore, and why my nose felt kind of stuffy.
"Kind of." I hedged, I knew they were all aware of the things my stepfather did to me, but it was one thing them finding it out on their own, and another for me to actually put into words the pain he caused. Jason frowned, his hand stilled halfway down my back, on one of the scars my stepfather had inflicted that day.
"What do you mean by 'kind of'? What happened to make you cry?" His eyes lost that shine of laughter, replaced with concern. I took a deep breath, if I told Jason this, it would be more than I had ever admitted to anyone in my life.
"It was a dream, but it wasn't, they were memories. I dreamed about the worst day of my life - the day my maimeo died. My eleventh birthday, then I dreamed about her funeral, then some less... pleasant memories of my stepfather." I focussed my gaze on one of the buttons of his slate coloured henley, there was a loose thread and my fingers itched to fix it for him. Anything to distract him from this conversation. He wrapped his arms around me tight and I breathed in that coffee, washing powder and spice smell. Home, he smelled like homes should smell I realised.
"Maimeo?" he paused for a second "Oh. Your grandmother. I'm so sorry Bea, that must have been hard for you to relive." His hand resumed its path from the top of my head to the bottom of my spine and I snuggled further into him.
"Will you tell me what happened with your stepfather sweetness?" He asked gently, and I realised that though he wanted to know he wasn't going to push - he would accept whichever answer I gave him. I closed my eyes, revelling for a moment in the bubble of warmth that just seemed to follow Jason around. Taking a shaky breath I began,
"It was about six months after the funeral. It was a Saturday, nearly lunchtime and I heard a knock at the door. I ran to answer it, the postman was friendly and handed me a parcel then walked away whistling. I took the parcel to my stepfather's office and he got very angry with me." My voice wobbled slightly and Jason's arms held me tighter as he whispered encouraging words to me. "I wasn't supposed to leave the house, or let anybody see or hear me. He... He cut open my jumper at the back and made me kneel then he hit me with his belt a few times. It hurt, and even though I tried not to make a sound, like he said, I couldn't help it. He used the buckle to hit me until he got bored. To teach me a lesson about following his rules he said. I nearly passed out from the pain, I did pas out from the pain - I just... held it back for a few minutes. That was the first time he left me with a scar, scars, lots of them." I finished quietly, scrubbing away errant tears that had started falling while I was talking.
Jason was silent and my mind turned on me, telling me that he didn't want me anymore, that I was broken, that I would always be broken, worthless. When he finally spoke it made me jump.
"You're so brave sweetness, and strong. I'm sure if she could, your grandmother would tell you how proud of you she is." I gave him a faint watery smile and a nod which seemed to satisfy him.
We sat in silence for a little while, but it wasn't awkward, we were both just thinking, me about how my grandmother would react to the boys and Jason... Well I wasn't sure what he was thinking about.
"Tell me about her." He blurted out suddenly and, after I got over the surprise, the expression on his face had a giggle bubbling up past my lips. I gave him another smile, stronger this time which he returned - those butterflies were dancing again at that.
"Umm what do you want to know?" I asked, unsure of where to begin. He shrugged which was difficult seeing as though I was leaning on one shoulder and replied with,
"What was she like? What did you do together? What did she look like?"
"Well, her name was Gloria, but everyone called her Lori, and she was my favourite person in the entire world. She was my entire world when I was growing up. She was brilliant and bizarre and could always keep you on your toes." smiling softly I tried to think how to put what I wanted to say into words,
"She wasn't your typical grandmother, she was still very young, but had lived so much more in those years than many do in a lifetime. My maimeo was a bit of a hippy, with a bit of punk thrown in for good measure. She always smelt like patchouli and her liquorice flavour cigarettes that she smoked but didn't think I knew about. You could always hear her coming, she jingled with all the jewellery she wore. She travelled to Ireland as a teenager went backpacking around until she met my granddad. It was love at first sight she told me, then she would laugh and say 'at least for him it was! I wasn't so easily won over' They got married and shortly after that my mother was born. I came along twenty one years later. We lived with her, my granddad passed away when my mother was small and she didn't want to live alone and I suppose after my dad died neither did my mother. She loved to bake, the house always smelled like a bakery, I used to sit on this old wooden step, and watch her bake, she would sing while she worked, and I would join in too. Sometimes we would sing songs my great grandmother had taught her, sometimes it would just be songs off the radio. She used to take me blackberrying too, but we would always end up eating them all before we got back home so the crumble would end up just being apple instead. We would go on walks out into the countryside and she would teach me about what was around us. In the summer we would go paddle in the mill stream and have picnics." I smiled widely at Jason when I realised what he did - in getting me to focus on all the good things about my grandmother I had let go of the awfulness of my nightmare.
"Thank you" I paused, looking up at his expression - happy, before continuing "I haven't really talked about her since she... since she passed away, and it was nice to remember something other than the day it happened for once."
He hugged me tight, then stood, taking me with him - I started to protest but he shushed me, telling me I weighed about as much as a feather before he sat me back down in the chair.
"Right young lady, let's have dinner. Oh no you don't. Don't be giving me that face, I know you haven't eaten yet, and I'm starving so I'm going to work my culinary magic and order us a Chinese. What do you want?" He asked, fingers poised over his phone and a grin on his face.
"Ummmm" My fingers went to my hair nervously, I'd never had Chinese before, so I had absolutely zero idea of what to order.
"Surprise me?" I shrugged, not wanting to admit to yet another thing that made me weird.
"Your wish is my command." Jason did a silly bow with lots of hand twirling then sat me back on his lap while we waited for dinner to arrive.
