STEPFATHER
My mother, looking back, was always rather unlucky in life. She was harsh and sour-tempered, full of resentment at how things had gone for her. I might have coped, but she took all her bitterness out on me. Day in, day out, shed shout at me for the smallest misstepsa stain on my clothes, a few grains of salt spilt at dinner. For torn trousers, shed go further, striking me hard, not with a slipper or a wooden spoon, but with her hands and feet, wherever they landed. I understood even then that she was deeply unhappy and angry at her misfortunes. I endured it, sniffing and swallowing my tears. I was only between five and eight then, far too young to stand up to her, nor did I want to. However much she lost her temper, one cannot raise a hand to ones own mother.
Mum, wheres my dad? I would sometimes ask, timidly.
Why do you need a father? shed snap back. Dont I feed and clothe you? I work myself into an early grave, scraping by, and you Her voice was always sharp.
It was true: Id spill salt and muddy my clothes. She never answered me. I never learned about my father. In matters of love, my mother was as ill-fated as in all elseher temper, I suppose, didnt help. She would get dismissed from one job after another. Who would put up with such bitterness every day?
Then, one day, he arrived. Peter. Pete, as everyone called him. I never quite understood what he saw in my mother. In truth, he didnt seem a success either, and he had no home of his own in our town. My mother at least had a small, if shabby, flatleft to her by my grandmother. Back then, she just about held on as a cook in the factory canteen, while Pete worked in the assembly plant. A week after they met, hed already moved in.
All right, lad! he said, grasping my hand in his meaty paw. Whats your name?
Charlie, I mumbled softly.
Thats the spirit, Charlie! Dont be shy. Im Pete. Which year are you in at school?
Year Two.
Studying well?
Hed do better if he helped his mother, my mum cut in.
Keep up at school, son, Pete said quietly. Youll find it useful one day.
He looked round at the cracked walls of our poky two-up, two-down. Thats just why I tried my hardest at school. I didnt want to live like that forever.
Once, I was pouring sunflower seeds into a bowl and spilt half a handful on the floor.
Useless! Mum shrieked. Ive just washed that floor! If you cant help, at least dont make more mess.
She slapped me so hard I nearly cracked my head on the sideboard I was standing by. Pete, whod been quietly sipping his tea, jumped when she started shouting and thumped his fist on the table.
Gail!
What? My mums voice was suddenly quieter.
Nothing. Pass me a biscuit, if you please.
Then, no one spoke another word as I picked the seeds up in the heavy silence and left the kitchen. In my room, I could hear Petes voice raised in anger. I was desperate to listen, so I risked sneaking nearer.
I dont ever want to see that again! How could you? Whats he done to deserve that?
I get tiredwork, housework. He doesnt appreciate what I do! my mum protested.
Hes a child! Have you ever taught him anything about respect? Do you ever spend time with him, do anything together?
She didnt reply.
And how often doesdoes this sort of thing happen?
Oh Pete, dont exaggerate! So I gave him a clip round the ear, got a bit heatedwho hasnt?
It doesnt happen with me. I dont strike those who cant hit back. Its beneath me.
How I longed to run in and tell him she was lyingthat she hit me often, not over little mistakes, but simply because her own life wouldn’t work out. My faults were just excuses. But Petes defence of me overwhelmed meI couldnt move or speak, my throat tight with tears.
Gail, I swear, if it happens again, Ill leave. I wont stay with someone like that.
She promised Pete it would never happen again. To my amazement, she kept her promise. From then on, Pete spent time with measking about school, praising my good marks. His favourite hobby was fishing, and hed take me with him. When he decided to refurbish the flat, Pete asked, Charlie, fancy helping me out? Or will homework keep you busy? I jumped at the chance and did my best at every task. Pete praised me endlesslymore than I probably deserved.
When we finished painting the kitchen and stood admiring our handiwork, I found myself asking, Will you stay with us long?
Well see how it goes, Pete replied after a pause.
Right. I sighed, with a heavy heart.
But then Pete knelt to my eye level and said, Ill do my best, truly.
Could I call you Dad?
If youd like to, then of course, son. Of course!
At first, I called him Dad shyly and softly. But soon, loudly and often. I loved Pete dearly and prayed every night that hed stay. Someone up there must have heard. My mother became pregnant, and she and Pete married. I was terrified that, once they had a child together, Pete would love me less. One day, they came back from the surgeryMum now properly showingand Pete happily announced, A daughter! Were having a girl. The perfect family now.
My mother ruffled my hair affectionately. She became much gentler after that, as though real happiness downed out her anger. Pete not only was a good stepfather; he gave me back my mother.
My sister, Lucy, was born. Pete adored his daughter, but treated me just the same. Lucy gurgled, smiled toothless, and waved her arms and legs around. She grew up lively and pretty. I looked out for her at every turn. Sometimes Id wonder what might have become of Mum and me if someone like Pete had never come into our lives. The thought made my blood run cold.
When Lucy was nine, I left to study at university in London. Id left school with top honours. Lucy, lazier about her studies, often heard from our father, Take a leaf out of Charlies book! He knows what he wantshe works at it. You’d rather be glued to your phone. Lucy would poke out her tongue at Pete, then hug him fiercely, and hed melt.
At the station, my mum held onto me as if I were bound for war.
Mum, honestly! Ill come back to visit.
Forgive me, son. Please, forgive everything! She sobbed uncontrollably.
Pete gathered us into his arms; Lucy clung round his waist, though earlier shed been taking selfies by the carriage. After hugs all round, I whispered in Mums ear that she was the best mother in the worldand set off for London.
I started university and found a part-time job to scrape by, saving for gifts for my family. For some reason, it was Pete I most wanted to spoil. After finishing my winter term, I went home for the holidaysbrought Lucy a lovely new case for her mobile, gave Mum a pair of silver earrings, and handed Pete a set of fine fishing tackle. My stepfather wiped away a tear.
Youre a diamond, lad. Thank you.
That night, we sat down to a spread Mum had prepared for my arrival. Pete drew me into the kitchen: Charlie, listen Your real fathers turned up in town. After all these years, he left his number. Your mother wanted nothing to do with it, but I kept itjust in case you ever wanted
I was dumbfounded. Flooded by memoriesasking my mother about my father and her furious screams in reply. Pete watched me, concern in his eyes, holding the scrap of paper with the phone number.
I took it, tore it in half, and tossed it into the bin.
Dad, have you lost your senses? What real father? Youre my father. I dont want anyone else.
He teared up again and we embraced. My old mangetting on, growing sentimental.
