Автор: Charlie Mitchell
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780007362868
isbn:
‘Put yir coat on and wi’ll go an git thum.’
‘Are you aff yir hade?’
‘What are yi on aboot, if yi want them back, lets git thum.’
‘It’s Jock Mitchell, yi maniac, ir you mad?’
‘Jock Shmock – come on, git yir coat on.’
Mum is now petrified. Even saying his name sends shivers down her spine. Blake walks back in with her coat as Mum looks at him in amazement.
‘If we go up there, promise me you winna let him hit me.’
‘He winna go near yi, come on.’
All Mum can think is that Dad will batter Blake, just like he’s battered her. And as no one has ever helped her before, she is now brainwashed into thinking he is more powerful than the devil. Even so, this is too good an opportunity to let pass, so she jumps in the car and heads off on her latest mission to get Tommy and me back. All the way up there in the car she keeps asking Blake, ‘Are yi sure yi kin fight now? What if he hits me? What if he’s got a gun?’
Blake just turns and smiles. ‘He winna lay a finger on yi, trust me.’
They stop outside the house, get out of the car, then open the front door and walk in. Mum is now digging her nails into Blake’s arm and shaking uncontrollably with fear, as Dad walks out of the kitchen and sees them standing there.
‘What the fuck ir you dain’ in meh hoose, and wah the fuck is he?’
‘Never mind wah eh am,’ says Blake. ‘Get yir bairns, Sarah.’
Mum is now trembling with fear at the sight of Dad. ‘I canna, he’s gonna hit me.’
‘You go near they bairns and I will hit yi,’ Dad snaps.
‘Do ya think so?’ Blake snaps back.
Dad has walked back into the kitchen and comes out again holding a knife.
‘What di yi think yir awa ti dae we that?’
‘Fuck all, I’m fixin’ a plug.’
The next minute Dad is sat back in the armchair with a broken jaw; Blake never gives him the chance to use the knife. As Dad has looked down, probably preparing one of his fly moves, Blake has booted him in the chin.
‘If you ever pull a knife on me again, ya prick, I’ll kill ya,’ says Blake.
‘The bairns are in the room. Eh dinna want this gittin’ oot o’ hand,’ says Mum, who’s starting to panic.
Tommy and I are upstairs asleep but the commotion wakes us up and we hear everything that’s going on.
Mum is now confused at the situation, as she has never seen this side of Dad. He is now on the receiving end for a change. But she’s still watching him like a hawk as this could be one of his tricks. And he still has the knife in his hand.
‘Come back the mornin’ and yi’ll git thum back. Dinna wake thum up now.’
‘Smack his puss, Sarah, fir a’ the hidings he gave you. It’s aright, he winna touch yi.’
‘No let’s get oot o’ here in case the police ’ave been phoned.’ She just wants out of there now, as she still doesn’t think Dad’s going to take what has just happened quietly.
They head off in the car and wait till the next morning to go back, but by that time Dad’s long gone. He has taken us to Aunt Helen’s house at the bottom of Lawhill (I play there with her kids, my cousins) and has then driven to hospital to get his jaw wired up. Mum only finds this out when she goes to my Nan’s house looking for us, as she’s greeted with a mouthful for what Blake did to Dad. I find that a bit weird as Nan knows what Dad’s like from past experience. I suppose blood is thicker than water.
Mum split up with Blake a couple of years later but as the tug of war between her and Dad continued, with Tommy and me being the rope they were pulling on, I never really got to know him.
In retaliation for Dad’s attempt on Mum’s life when she was pregnant with Bobby, there was an attempt on Dad’s life, when he was run over by a car as he walked out of a local pub. Dad got off lightly – just a few bruised ribs and minor injuries to the hip and shoulder which soon healed. He also had a twelve-inch gash to his leg which scarred it for life. He always claimed that Blake had something to do with this, but I think he just wanted to have another excuse to bully Mum.
He managed to snatch me again when I was approaching my third birthday and this time he headed over to the Isle of Man on the ferry, with me in tow…
I’m standing on the boat with him and it’s cold and windy and I don’t know whether I’ll see Mum or Tommy again. I’m fishing off the side of the boat and catch a conger eel with this orange rope handline, given to me by Dad to keep me amused. It nearly pulls me into the water and the rope cuts through my hand…It’s amazing that all of these fishermen have the best rods, reels and bait but catch nothing, and I have this silly little handline and I hook a thirty-pound conger.
But maybe it would have been better if the captain had never saved me from being dragged overboard – or maybe drowning me is Dad’s plan…
His new life in the Isle of Man was cut short and he had to come back. I don’t know why we only spent a few months there. I think he got kicked off the island for some reason, but he never told me why we came back.
Finally, when I was around three and a half years old and my big brother Tommy was five, they settled the custody battle in court.
Tommy and I are sitting there between Mum and Dad in a big, gloomy wood-panelled courtroom in Dundee. There’s this musty smell of ancient wax polish, disinfectant and broken lives. I don’t really know what’s going on but a man in a wig who I learn later is the judge seems to be in a hurry for us to leave, as he keeps snapping questions at Mum and Dad. Maybe he wants his lunch. Then suddenly he’s asking me who I want to live with, Mum or Dad.
By this time I’ve spent more of my life with Dad than I have with my mum and there doesn’t seem to be any choice. Besides I’m too frightened to say anything else.
‘Dad,’ I mumble nervously.
‘What’s he saying?’ says the judge.
‘He wants to be with me, Yi Honour,’ replies Dad, quickly and smartly.
Tommy has chosen Mum and in the next few minutes my childhood fate is sealed. The judge rules that I should live with Dad and Tommy should live with Mum. After all, it seems fair for both parents to have one kid each.
Mum’s crying and calling Dad a bastard and shouting something about access but Dad just says, ‘Yi can fuck off!’ and walks out of the courtroom, taking me with him.
‘Come with me, son. Come with me, son,’ Mum’s begging me as I follow my dad out. I feel stunned and miserable, and I’m trying not to listen too closely to her begging as it hurts too much. And even though I haven’t СКАЧАТЬ