under my bed.
Strike two: She sat on my bed – again, uninvited, and almost squashing the one-eyed teddy.
‘I wanted to ask you something,’ she said.
She had a strange, overly smiling face that reminded me of those loonies outside the mental hospital two streets away from the dentist.
‘Okay…’ I urged.
‘Things are a lot better between us all…you know…?’
‘They’re all right,’ I replied, as my mind shifted to more important things, like whether Carla and Corey wanted to go down to the rec.
‘That’s what I thought. So I wondered if…’
‘What?’
‘If you should think about calling him Dad?’
Strike three.
‘Lois?’
Silence.
‘Lois?’
‘I heard, Mum.’
‘How about it, then?’
Tempted to pour a whole tub of washing-up liquid into my ear just to check I’d heard right, I replied with a calmness that contradicted the rage fizzing up inside of me. ‘I already have a dad.’
‘I know.’
‘Well then…’ I jumped off my bed, not wanting to be involved in any segment of this pointless discussion.
‘I know, but…and nothing would change that, I just think it would be nice.’
My mother was obviously sick in the head. ‘Nice for who?’
‘For you!’
‘No, Mum!’
‘But why?’
‘I told you, I already have a dad!’ I didn’t want to shout at her, but she kept pushing. My stomach felt like a kettle just about to whistle. I needed her out of my room.
‘Lois, no one’s taking that away from you.’ Mum dropped her gaze. ‘But you were only little when your father…’
‘Died. And I was five. So?’ I stared at Dad’s picture on my side table.
‘So, I think it’s important you have a father figure in your life like –’
‘NO!’ I roared, unable to take this rubbish any more. I soooo wanted to tell her about The Manual’s existence in my life. How I was able to talk to my dad whenever I wanted. Have him beside me, just before I drifted to sleep, and under my pillow as I slept. He spoke to me through those pages, told me he loved me over and over again. I JUST WANTED TO TELL HER I STILL HAD MY DAD!
‘Lois…’
‘You think I don’t know my dad, but I do.’
‘Lois, look –’
‘I know him more than you think. We speak every day…’
As I trailed off, her eyes widened in disbelief.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied, my body language willing her to get out of my room, my sanctuary, and away from any proximity to my dad’s special manual.
‘We’ll talk about this another time,’ she said, calmly shutting the door behind her. I located The Manual, opened it, and swore as a stray tear plopped onto a page, blotting and smudging two precious letters of a word my dad would never, ever be able to write again.
I tried to ignore Mum and the Bingo Caller as much as possible while the weeks dragged by, only communicating by the absolute essential of words. So, for once, it was an unusual but welcome relief when the annual trip to see Granny Bates came around.
I used to enjoy spending time with my mum’s mum, but that had been impossible since she’d moved into sheltered housing. Granny Bates, however, lived in Sussex and insisted I spent a week of my summer holidays with her at a bleak seaside house, with furniture more at home in a museum and surrounded by pictures of my dad, his school reports, football medals and any scribbles he’d presented her with as a child. What struck me was the absence of anything belonging to his sisters, my aunties Philomena and Ina. I never asked Granny Bates about this, though. In fact she hardly spoke to me at all, and I found the whole experience a bit like having a filling put in. I also missed Carla and Corey so much, especially as Granny’s surrounding area was surrounded by sheep and old people! Luckily I had my Walkman and Corey’s tape, which kept me sane while I sat opposite Granny Bates as she munched on the ginger snaps Mum always insisted I brought for her.
When I was younger, as long as I took my dolls or some books I could get through the experience without screaming, but since hitting my teens I was finding it increasingly harder to be around Granny Bates. I just wanted to spend time hanging around the rec with Carla and a few of my new friends from school. Sussex and Granny Bates now signified a total waste of my life, and I hated it.
‘Gran, can we watch something else?’ I asked. A tiny bit bored with the news programme. Carla’s mum had just got cable installed and I longed to flick onto something worthwhile, like Yo! MTV Raps.
‘Your dad always loved watching the news.’
Here we go again, I thought. That was another thing. Constantly comparing me to my dad. I wouldn’t mind so much if I didn’t feel she was having a go at me. Perhaps seeing me as not living up to what he was. I don’t know. She was ‘pleasant’ enough. I just felt that sometimes there was so much I didn’t know or understand about the Bates family.
I stood up.
‘Where are you going, young lady?’
‘To my room, I might listen to my Walkman.’
‘You’d rather listen to that radio thing than stay down here with your Gran?’
‘No, it isn’t that…’
‘You go off then. And keep the room tidy. It’s Kevin’s room.’
She was almost raising her voice. I rolled my eyes again and headed for the room my dad hadn’t even slept in before – Granny Bates had only moved to Sussex AFTER his death. Mad cow.
I spent the remainder of the evening staring at the ceiling, wishing my dad could rescue me. I opened up The Manual and picked up where I had left off.
So, instead of listening to your mum, you probably prefer to get advice from your mates. My best mate (as hopefully you still know) is Charlie.
Nope. Had never met him (at least I didn’t remember ever meeting him). Seen a few pictures of him and Dad together though, but that was it.
When we were your age it was always about me and him. He once
