My ME Hero - Happy with a Nerf gun

When You Think It Is Safe To Pick Up The Washing

It Is Now!!

My solitude is broken by the yelp of a stubbed toe a ‘Bloody Hell’ and stomping of a rushed wakening. I sip the last of my coffee and take a deep breath and brace myself.

I wonder - as I hear his mobile go off, if I should just sit here and then I giggle at the ‘Shit’ that sharply punctures my solitude bubble, then expletives follow robustly as I hear the clank of the phone on porcelain. I take a deep breath and close my eyes and hope ‘please let it be on the outside and not inside the pan’. As there are no more blaspheming or stomping or shouts for mum, I think it is safe to come out of the office, my bright room at the top of our house. I look on the breezy yet warm scene out of the window at the waving corn and remember past summer holidays of days out, seaside, farms and zoo’s and wonder how this child of mine ever made it to be a man.

‘Mum’ He shouts as he runs downstairs and into the kitchen. ‘Got it’ he stomps back upstairs. ‘Mum, mum!’

‘I’m in the office’ He pokes his ruffled head through the door.

‘Anything you want us to take to nana and granddads?’

‘Nope, was that Rose on the phone?’

‘Yep, she’s on her way home. I’ll have breakfast and then we will get going.’

Front door opens and a whirlwind zips through the house, hairbrush, makeup and perfume are applied with expert hands and I remember the feel of the little hands that used to grab mine.

They both pounce on their little brother’s bed who squeals in delight and they make fun of his breaking voice.

‘You alright’ I can hear their regret and their guilt.

‘Yep, what time are you coming home?’ Angus asks. They look across at me.

‘They will be gone all day love and you need to keep your head back, you have already had two nose bleeds this morning.’

Nothing else is said and soon the door slams and I ring my mum and dad to say they are on their way. The excitement in my parent’s voice thrills and their sadness touches me. They ask how Angus is and we chat a little, and I miss them. I remember my little hand in my dad’s strong hand, how he used to squeeze mine to reassure me.

I go to take Angus’s heart rate and it hits the roof as he sits up. He squeezes my hand and I feel his warmth and support.

‘It’s alright mum, I don’t mind.’ He reassures me, as he lies back down before he passes out. ‘We have plenty to do. Fancy a shooting match with the nerf guns.’ I smile and nod as I pick up some washing from the floor. I hear the whistle of the soft pellet before I feel the sting and I laugh as I pick up the hidden self-loading toy gun and shoot around him with the fifteen shots.

I look at his big broad smile and I know we have to make the best of life we have. I just wish this is not all we have though and one day and one day soon, that smile would be able to shine once again in a free and easy time.

25,000 children in the UK with ME and their families have to face life like this. Any chronic illness needs support and not all disabilities are wheelchair users.

The Freedom to Work - Yes Please

This short story still in its rough form is dedicated to Nicki  and Cathy and all those that have to chose to suffer in silence.

Freedom To Work

Yes Please!

I’ve been living in this flat now for almost six months, and each and every day I get a quick hello from my neighbour, who then decides to come round for coffee, unannounced, with her cat!

Now for some with the simple freedom of choice and with a “normal ability to live”, they would think this innocuous and what appears to be friendly, neighbourly thing to do, a charitable and much needed contact with the outside world, especially for someone who is chronically ill like me. So do I, well in a way. You see the problem I have is that I don’t have the freedom to walk away. I’m pinned down by a body that can’t. I have to say and be lectured everyday about how working could improve my spirits – I don’t need to be told this, I know this. My mind craves difference and when I give it a go, something pulls the plug on my neurons and I am left with intermittent thinking, of the fuzzy kind, no crystal clear thoughts for me.

She explains how the money would give me the ability to live so that I no longer live in squalor! Yes she actually used the word squalor! As if I am some complete moron who never gave that a thought! What makes it so awful and wretched is that she is right, it is a squalid flat! What can you say to that, how can you defend yourself? You see, each night someone, while I am asleep pumps my body with lead, seriously I’m not kidding! Some days just looking after my own hygiene is all my body can take. Innately I am a very organised and tidy person, squalor makes me depressed.

Anyhow I bet even a saint would lose their patients under this much scrutiny, and believe me I’m no saint, nor would I want to be. I’m more of – live life to the full type of gal, why walk when you can dance, why dance when you can rock?

I’m rocking now, although I’m not entirely sure if I’m rocking to get out of the chair Sam sees me as she walks to work or in pain. I just don’t want to face that encouraging smile this morning; I’m not in the mood! My halo has gone missing! But I’m too late; her face is at the window of my bedroom.

‘Morning Katie, How are you this morning?’

‘I’m fine, and you?’

‘Oh I’m loving the spring, perhaps we can go for a walk when I get home - blow a few cobwebs away, make you feel better?’ I slap a smile on my face and she is gone. I know what I would like to blow away.

‘I don’t want to think how I am Sam!’ I grumble and groan as my body adjust to the upright position. I close my eyes as the dizziness kicks in. It makes it real, and I don’t want my reality to be all there is thank you very much – I want to live in a dream world of fluffy clouds for as long as I can. I look across at the time on my phone, ‘I bet a get a shimmy on, my mum will be around in two hours and I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet!’

As I had feared Sam came round that evening, she promised she was on a flying visit. I know though she is trying to get me out of the house as promised this morning. I told her I was waiting for company so now she is waiting to see who that could be. She sips at the coffee that I have just made her. Which means: I won’t be able to finish the prep for my evening meal – I simply won’t have enough energy to do it now!

Sounds stupid doesn’t it? You can’t explain it to anyone who has no difficulty in moving, their blood flow, breathing, with their energy all being normal. Looking at me I don’t look disabled. I ponder on that thought as the devil cat winds her tail lazily and lovingly around my leg. I tense up, not because I hate cats but because I know what is coming, but I don’t know when. The pounce of the Duchess the devil cat is always unpredictable and unprovoked.

‘I saw you out at lunch time with your mum. That must have been a nice change for you? Made you feel better?’ Duchess devil cat jumped upon my legs and purred comforting soft velvet purrs the kind that makes you sleepy. Her warm soft fur comforted my knee joints and a connection was made between animal and human.

‘Yep’ I false smile into my hot chocolate, no point telling the truth. I remember my mum’s face when she took the full force of abuse hurled at her this morning. You see I have a disability badge; it took two years to get it! Even though I am house bound, I still have to go to see the GP, and there is no parking nearby, and the journey alone will make me so sick it will render me bed bound for the next week or more, apparently I still did not constitute a badge! I refuse to use the wheelchair, so it makes it worse. You see the whole process of getting the badge and Department Work and Pensions forms and interviews; they insisted I attended, not only put my health in jeopardy but made me feel worthless.

The process of losing all your function after you do any daily living, is innocuously called Post Exertional Malaise; PEM for short. It is more a kin to having a heart attack or stroke though; as my body closes down to conserve the precious oxygen my body craves. Because my brain is constantly starved of oxygen when I over do things. My body just cannot utilise oxygen or energy, every system in my body is compromised. It is a hard concept to get your mind around. My mum has been a rock for me and she has got her head around it, but we are all allowed to lose it from time to time, my mum lost it big time today.

‘Where did you go?’ Sam asked. I didn’t want to say disability aids, so I lied.

‘We fancied getting so good underwear but we were naughty and brought the most glamorous frilly knickers’. I wish my life could cope with frilly knickers I privately thought. ‘We are fed up with the Polk Dot bloomers we normally get’. She had to gulp down the coffee; she had been daintily and slowly sipping! I lowered my eyes as I smugly smiled into my hot chocolate.

My mum’s beleaguered face haunts me, her frustration hurts me. I had just finished my degree you see when I was struck down with a virus that left me this way; I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, the most hated condition of modern time, with I have to say the most stupid and misleading name. Fatigue, everyone has fatigue and I wish it was just a case of fatigue.

My mum was so so proud of me at my graduation; all those struggles to get me through Uni were worth it she told me. My job was to die for, and I would have if my body had let me. We value ability is highly prised; I have no ability, so I am worthless? Today for the first time I felt worthless to my mum. All her dreams had been shattered, they had splintered like a mirror, we only caught glimpses of our former happy self’s. Mum had to give up work to look after me; she lost most of her friends and a life she loved.

Sam drew out of her bag my latest prescription, it was a trial medication and I could see she was itching to ask questions. Sam worked at the Health Centre; she was the softly spoken dragon that refused to help in a helpful manor that mirrors her personality. This job perpetuates her belief that she is a most helpful and understanding person. I’ve seen people staring at her in disbelief at the reception with the comments she comes out with. It makes me smile; I am not the only person she does this to so now I don’t take it so personally.  

‘Would you like to take the cups in the kitchen, I’ve finished my coffee.’ Sam encouraged me to move. I bit my tong but –

‘No that’s Ok Sam, just put it on the coffee table next to you’ Duchess digs her claws in very painfully. As I knocked her off my lap and Sam was about to protest the door opened, and in walked in Peter and his crew followed by Dr Burns.

The suit was amazing, worn under clothes you could not tell you had it on. Even I was impressed with my design and I don’t get impressed with myself very often. The head band was the same and I marvelled at the lightweight and complexity of it all. A small app was transferred to my phone and Sam was bristling with pride that she knew me, which was a first! She was visibly astounded when the whole team congratulated me and said they were in ore of me, considering my disabilities and how much thought had gone into the concept.

‘We have all had a go with it, and boy - were we pleased with the function. Not all of us could cope with wearing it though’ He looked over to Dr Bures. ‘Possibly a couple of tweaks would be needed after someone with a non-biased opinion could be found.

Well what would you do if you were in my position? Would you take full advantage of it, and put your neighbour forward - an ability to get the truth over let alone some well-earned revenge? Well I didn’t have to worry about that, as though by magic with Sam jumped up and offered herself as a guinea pig.

‘Although there is nothing that could compare with what you go through on a day to day basis’ Tom looked at me with such earnest eyes that it made me bloom inside. ‘I think if we did anymore it would be torture for torture sake, and not research practical.’ I have always loved Tom, from our first lecture together. His like a universe of possibilities.

‘Dr Burns was going to take part and as kindly agreed to ask his staff, if they would like to take part in the trial.’ Tom sparked interest in Sam in more ways than one and she took the suit and bristled up to her full height of 5ft nothing, patient high heels, formal skirt and diamanté hairclip in her perfectly plated blond hair, leaning into Tom.

“What a splendid idea Dr Burns”, Sam’s smooth as treacle and sweet as acid voice oozed something like sincerity; which she may later regret. I understand how this illness is.’ Dr Burns looked over to me puzzled. ‘I live next door to Kate; I’ve taken her under my wing’

‘Smother me more like’ I grumpily whispered out of earshot of Sam.

‘I think we should all have a go with the suit, so we can truly understand how it is for these poor people.’ Big mistake lady I thought to myself, as her condescending ways got stuck in my throat so no worlds came out. She had asked no further questions, silly woman.

‘If I try it on now and give it a go, then you can tweak it and the sooner we can start to trial it out’.

‘Splendid beamed Tom.’ I opened and shut my mouth. I should warn her?

Now the thing you must remember of Sam, she has a condition which she equates to every other long term illness since she found out about it. Now, I would not belittle anyone’s condition, but just having one condition does not give you a right to say you understand, or give out the impression you would be able to take on any illness and work through it. You can see my dilemma can’t you? Should I go easy or should I ramp up the ‘muscle cruncher’?

They took great pains in explaining how the suit works, now that she had it on. The electrical currents to simulate the pain, the tightening and how it took impulses from the brain to collect data, how the joints had sensors to show instability and how that affects lactic acid expression, the heaviness of the thin material and how they could control it. She did try to ask how light material can make your bodies limbs feel like lead, but she was no geek and they were off the geek Richter scale. They did explain that they could only cope with 7 on the pain dial app themselves. The dial went up to 14 which is about where they thought my pain was at. I saw a flicker of I’ll show them how it’s done, dance with glee across her face.

Sam was giddy with her own importance, and eager to show everyone including me – probably more me, how she was a trouper and could carry on regardless. They explained with equal puppy dog excitement (that Duchess seemed impervious to) that their aim was to get slowly go up to a 7 while taking notes at each stage.

“It’s just like spandex hold it all up, tuck it all in and give shape underwear” she followed her shape from boobs to hip. Who could blame her with these dishy intellectual types all around you. Sadly for Sam however, her timing was off, they were too engrossed in the app on my phone. All of a sudden she squealed, and went cross eyed. I tried to stop myself from a giggle, but the corners of my mouth curled into a smirk and the giggle bubbled out.

‘Perhaps the inside thigh should be modified?’ I suggested

“What number have you got that on” Dr Burns asked suspiciously. I looked down as I was not too sure myself, they all looked at me clipboards in had for the answer.

‘Two!’ I replied blankly.

‘Two? Are you sure?’ Sam’s eyes were sort of watering. Simon and lead researcher unceremoniously stuck his hand up the sleeve of the suit.

“Yep, it’s a two; crank it up two more, than we will leave it for a while, see how she copes.”

I did as I was told, but instead of the pleasure of showing someone how it feels, I felt and pang of uncertainty as I saw the familiar pain flash over Sam’s face.

“No that’s OK turn it up to the” Another ripple of muscle contraction took the breath away and she held out her hand to steady herself against Simon.

“Just go for a walk hold onto me so your body can adjust to the sensations.” Simon suggested.

We all held on to the childish giggles and comments as Sam walked out of the flat and onto the street like a person constantly hit by a lightning bolt.

They all decided to make a cup of tea while they were out walking and adjusting. We sat drinking and nibbling while talking about the technology and what it would do for the medical staff with their teaching, about other chronic conditions. How it all brings a new dimension to care. They all thought that my idea of being able to process the information gathered by the sweat on how the lactic acid and the heart behaved was - a genius way of gathering and furthering research.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sam walk like a cat on hot bricks, the sharp intakes of breath, closing of the eyes and pausing to gain the will to move again.

“Perhaps we should get her out of the suit and make sure it is working properly” I suggested. Perplexed they looked over to me, then out of the window where Sam was teetering in high heels, unsteady and shaking her limbs. Duchess was following looking confused at her mistress, sitting down and looking around and I felt certain I could see the cat’s eyes roll.

Two days later they had the data from Sam’s trial in the suit and they had tweaked it, so that lower settings were incorporated with differing incremental settings for many other conditions and individual tolerance to pain.

Sam had not been round to see me in those two days since she ore the suit, and was frosty towards me as she went to work in the mornings. Today was not a good day for me the PEM had kicked in big time. Tom had been my constant companion. He had said that they had caused the relapse in my condition, the least they could do was support me back until I was better.

They asked Sam to try on the suit again. I could see the horror on her face, but she became my hero when she silently took hold of the suit again. But it was her words that grabbed me the most, when she looked at me in the eyes with determination and grit.

‘I’ll be happy to’ and as she passed me she touched my shoulder and privately stated ‘I have the freedom of taking off the suit, others don’t.They don't have the freedom to work’ She squeezed me just a little and there just right at that second I lost the ability to fly on a dream cloud, as a reality sunk in, but I gained another hero and a true friend!

How to Control The Pain When You Are 10 With ME!

How to Control The Pain

When You Are 10

With ME!

I’ve been sitting here for over two years now! My head hurts with it all and I don’t like or trust the doctor, she don’t listen.

She sits there with her put you down smile, thinking she knows me and my body better than me and my mum! She is one crazy lady, and I have to sit here and listen to her babble on. I just choose the things I want to do apparently; I sag in my chair. She twists and turns everything my mum tells her about our life. That I choose to avoid the things in life I don’t like, the only thing I want to avoid in my life, is her! I hear my granddad saying ‘She is no good for man nor beast!’

 I’m ten, who is going to listen to a ten year old? No one in this room and that’s for sure. At ten you are stuck as my granddad would say “between a rock and a hard place”. He would continue ‘you’re up a creak without a paddle my boy; don’t let them grind you down.’ My Granddad loves a good metaphor, and he mixes them with a passion. I would like to be in the classroom when he meets my teacher, who hates them just as much. Not sure if either of them would come out alive.

I should perhaps explain I haven’t been sitting here for two years solid, I was being sarcastic or is it ironic? Sarcasm is not the lowest form of whit; it is a way to survive when you’ve got ME. Not many people get that though. I’m lucky my mum gets it, she understands, she calls it my frustration monkey. ‘Put that monkey back in the cadge and feed it a banana, now is not the time or place to let him out’ I hear my mum say.

 I’ve been coming to the hospital for two years though, and I might as well of sat in this chair the whole time. Nothing has changed, well that is a little untrue, my world used to open to everything, now my world is just the house on a good day, my bedroom on a bad day. Somehow, and I don’t understand or know why, but my body just deflates like a soggy balloon when you are really trying hard to and blow it up. The one balloon in the whole packet that has tinny pinprick holes in it and the air just wheezes through.

It is so scary when your head feels as if it is going to burst open, when you’re legs and arms go numb and you can’t see, but they think I’m a fool for being scared, or I’m just being over anxious.

How can your body do that; make everything you do suck the energy and leave you in so much pain! It’s a big pile of shit! “Mountainous mounds of shit”, my mum calls it. She makes me laugh. We make huge shovels in our minds and shovel the shit away. I pile mine on the “She Devil”, but I don’t tell mum that, she might not like that bit.

I can’t talk about ME much, I can think, and that don’t seem to bother my bones too much, but if I try to talk it through it makes a fuzzy sponge in my head, that I can’t think around it or through it. The sponge grows with cold water; it fills all the space in my talking and logical mind. The worst thing about that, even when I Skype my friends it zaps me. Over excitement or just plain looking forward to things can make my brain freeze, but I don't stop. I have to time it though, would like to throw the timer away, whizz out the window.

I try concentrating on the soundless mouths around the clinical room. She Devil didn’t put her lipstick on very well. It looks like she can’t stay inside the line. I’m beginning to hate colouring, holding my arm and concentrating just gets to me, as if a boy of ten wants to do that anyhow. Colouring it seems is the latest cure! It’s on her teeth and now that is all I can see. She calls this way of distracting your mind as ‘deflecting the pain!’ It shuts out the pain most of the time until your mind gets too tired of playing tricks on your body, and then as granddad would say ‘ya buggered’.

Just think if I sat here still and quiet no one would notice. Who am I kidding no one notices me anyhow! I’ve already blended into the background, I've just become a statistic. If I try to explain what is going on, I’m accused of negative thoughts. So there we go, the truth is negative!

Mum is fighting to have a test done for Lymes disease. She is willing to pay for the right ones. I look at the She Devil, and for the first time in my life I feel real hate. The way her eyes look at my mum… I turn away.

Just think if I stayed here I could whisper advice to all the poor kids that have to listen to all her bullshit. Her management is ‘keeping calm, close your mind. The pain is not there! Really, try telling that to my eyes. There are no organic reasons! Now that is simply not true! What is the point, she is too dumb to understand the situation with ME. ME is a complex autoimmune disease and it affects the whole of your body.

Anyhow can anyone explain how the hell my mind will be able to help if I have an infection? I don’t know a lot, I’m only ten, but I am sure that a virus or bacterial infection will not just jump out of your body when you tell it too. Who is the immature one?

You see my legs, brain and stomach just aren’t listening to me, no matter how hard I tell them there is nothing wrong. I wonder how many kids have had to sit and suffer in this way. If She Devil was training a dog the way she treats me, someone would report her to the RSPCA! They would take her to court!  Where are the NSPCC when you need them?

My mum says that we need to come; we have to play the system until the system becomes fair and starts to understand ME. Perhaps they should go back to primary school! We are taught to be inclusive and tolerant to individuals that are a little different to us. I don’t see that happening in this room.

Perhaps at the primary school my Psychologist went to, they didn’t uphold the tidy rule or respect one and trying to understand the difference in people, was defiantly not part of their curriculum. I want to smile, but know that just would not be a good idea.

Maybe they didn’t have the right sort of discipline? Though she expects my mum to discipline me, she thinks a strong will, will get me back to school. I play a game of darts in my head. I use the She Devil for a bull’s eye. CBT shows you to deflect negative thought, I guess it works, I scored a bull’s-eye, and it made me feel better.

The mention of school makes me sad. I try everything I have to block it out; She Devil picks up on it and interprets it in her own special way. I try to block the memories, but it’s too late. The faces of my friends bounce joyfully in my mind. I remember the park we played in after school, how climbing felt and the freedom of movement under the sun. Freedom from some of the pain would be a start. I don’t see that is going to happen anytime soon.

The game I brought on our last shopping trip still sits on my table. I haven’t been able to tolerate the games on the TV, old films are OK but new ones take it out of me. It’s sat there untouched for a year. I can’t wait to show my friends and play it with them, not sure when it will happen.

I look at her as she asks a question but all I see is her hair. Did her mum not teach her to brush her hair either? Why do some people just give up on themselves? I can’t understand what she has said .

I start to wonder how she would feel, if someone behaved the way she does to my mum, to her. I wonder what her reaction would be. But there again when you are ten you’re not allowed to think your own thoughts, and you have to behave in a certain way. When you’re ten, you’re not a human you’re a child!

Her hair is a tidy mess though, another of my granddads sayings or is it mum’s. How can a mess be tidy?  I wonder if she looks in the mirror before she leaves for work. My mum tells me not to be so unkind. She Devil is, she is the unkindest person I have ever known; she hurts my mum with her power. I don’t know what they teach them at university, I wonder if they give out dragon degrees. She makes a good dragon!

All of me hurts, and I just want to switch off. I try to find a sitting position that is comfortable but nothing works. The pain is making me feel sick. I feel cold inside and I just want a cuddle, to feel the warmth of mum. If I get close to my mum though, they look at me as though I am playing on her.

I can feel my mum’s pain and frustration. I feel as if I have let her down. I don’t answer their questions, I don’t hear their questions and my mum looks so disappointed. I’m sinking into the world of fog, as the sponge in my head fills up with cold freezing water. Cold damp fog that has seeped through into my bones!

I feel like a performing monkey in front of her creepy beady eyes.. I know that whatever I say she will be putting pressure on us to comply in the opposite direction, regardless of the facts. We could not possibly understand medical matters, I’m just ten.

Finally we are allowed to leave and it is as though a spell has been broken. I’ve wasted all of my energy on what? Made to feel I am not trying to get better and how is that going to help? Get back to school with a cold wet sponge for a brain. My teacher is going to love me.

My mum squeezes my hand as I try and get my legs to work. I try to hide my reality, they would disapprove of it. I feel like we are in the film of Forest Gump, ‘Stupid is as Stupid does’, I suppose and no matter what the researchers say we have to dance to the tune of the She Devil.

Kids with ME have a hard enough time with ME but the medical profession, through lack of understanding give the wrong advice. Their advice is based on the "Mass Hysteria" at the Royal Free hospital, may I remind everyone we live in 2017? 

Dr Speight Helped us to understand 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=208JacsB5kM

Mark Van Ness has some understanding and we now use a heart Rate and Blood Pressure monitor which helps us see what is happening to Angus's body to some extent

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_cnva7zyKM&t=48s

A blood test would help, but it could take a while

https://app.secure.griffith.edu.au/news/2016/03/01/screening-test-for-chronic-fatigue-syndrome-on-its-way/?src=hp

Should Dr make amends, yes but also NHS, NICE, DWP, and the Government

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/health/12033810/Its-time-for-doctors-to-apologise-to-their-ME-patients.html

If mass Hysteria was a thing the Ebola should have made the world hysterical and all of us should have ME?
https://www.royalfree.nhs.uk/news-media/news/infectious-diseases-our-history/

Thank you for taking the time to understand some of the problems kids with ME have, now could I ask you to spread the word :-)

Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x

This is for a friend with my love, I hope it gives you strength x

I sit here looking back on the parallel of our lives. His, taking him all over the world and yet he was alone and trapped but doing what he loved. Inverted in my universe where I was grounded to a home, alone and trapped but doing what I loved.

When our singular universes collided uniting our independent spheres we both knew that we would have to learn to live with each other. Relationships forged out of necessity to protect the children. I found out that Ian had tracked me down after Zara had seen Sophie in her school uniform and confirmed via a few pictures on my facebook.

I had grown to understand that his younger self could not commit. I truly believe he loved me but his mistress played with him remorsefully and made him dance her tune. But his mistress had lost her lustre and he found she was made of fools gold.

Christmas was breathtaking. Zara and Rafe are now my close friends and Francesca had learnt her boundaries and could be quiet entertaining, especially under Henry’s influence. I still feel trapped, crying out to be my own woman. I will be forever beholden to a family that my children call their own. I am grateful, just trapped.

I’ve taken Honey for a good long walk the house is tidy beyond tidy and I look at the clock again. This is the hardest thing of all being on your own, waiting for your children to come home. I have time now but no money to spend on doing things. I can’t compete with Ian’s financial position and not wanting to take away the fun money has to offer, I stand back but I do become resentful. I am here just for the discipline, cleaning and cooking. I drop and pick up the children outside the house though I’m made to feel welcome. I know if I saw him go out with someone I would not cope. Silly I know but there we go. Life still is a bit shitty.

My phone buzzed as I knew it would they were going to stay the night with Auntie Zara. I thought that being Valentines Day they would like to be alone, I was sure Rafe was taking Zara out.  I remembered that I hadn’t opened the cards the kids had left me so I went into the kitchen.

Henry’s Valentine was hand made with a miss shaped heart and a big kiss right in the middle he had drawn Sophie on it too. I started to cry. I cry at everything, always have. I braced myself for Sophie’s she always picked a good card that would have me blubbering for hours if not days. Deep breath, I cut my finger on the envelopes edge and had to leave reading it as the blood flow would not stop. I found a plaster and looked at the card more closely.

Ian had given her a camera for Christmas and by the looks of the picture on the front of the card she was seriously good. I sort of knew the area. Had we gone there on holiday? The church on the hill, there was a story attached to it something about the Black Death. I closed my eyes and caught my breath. Rolling down the hill at Wadenhoe, eating lunch by the river and then canoeing all the way back to the Hotel, it was our first holiday together. Tears started to run down my cheeks. He must have taken her there.

I had loved our life together and enjoyed looking to the future to what I thought we would become. That was the saddest bit the hurdle I fell at. I put the card down, she was not to know. I got the wine out of the fridge, poured a large glass this was going to be a very long night. I put on some James Blunt hoping his toffee voice could mellow me and I began to dance to ‘I Really Want You’ living every word. It was when I turned to sit down as my ankle began to ache; still singing really loud ‘I really want you’ that I noticed someone in full leathers.

The scream was intense, the scream was loud, the wine spilt and I slipped. Did I have trousers on? No! Did I have red knickers on Yes! I will be burning those bloody red knickers.

There was Ian holding my leg again.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Livid was an understatement. His face was bemused mingled with angry.

‘What the fuck I’m doing, what the fuck are you doing, you should be ready to go.’

‘Go where?’

‘Out’

‘Out where?’ He slumped on the floor beside me and looked at me. I mean really looked at me. Making me really look at him, I was not happy with him for that.

‘Did you get my card?’

‘What sort of card?’

‘Valentines card.’

‘Nope.’

‘The picture of Wadenhoe on the front.’

‘I thought it was from Sophie.’

‘You didn’t read it?’

‘I….. it made me cry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yea Oh.’

‘I was being romantic.’

‘Why’

‘Because I have fallen in love with you, again.’

‘When, when did you fall in love with me?’

‘I’ve always loved you but when I saw you for the first time with Sophie you took my breath away.’ I was bundled up tight to protecting myself from the harm love can do. Can you forgive someone breaking your most precious rule? Not sure he would if I was the one sleeping with his best friend.

‘Then when I saw you going into the supermarket and followed you around. How you were with Henry I realised my work meant nothing until you have seen it.’

‘You’ve been stalking me?’

‘A little, do you mind?’

‘A little.’ We were so close our backs to the sofa, shoulders nearly touching, excited breaths rasping our uncertainty.

‘It gets worse! I might as well be completely truthful. Before the old guy pinned your leg to the side of the trolley park and I come running to your rescue. You have beautiful legs.’ I rolled my eyes and we both laughed. Of all my features I have always thought my legs were the ugliest now even more so with the scar.

‘I had followed you several times.’

‘You said truthful, how many exactly?’

‘Fifteen ish.’

‘Fifteen! How come I never saw you?’

‘You weren’t looking. You were…’ I looked around at him and his eyes glistened.

A small cough to clear the tears he let his hand drop so that I could hold his if I wanted to, which I did but couldn’t.

‘It was when you were talking to Henry I lost my heart and gained my faith.’

‘Faith is a bit strong.’

‘When you have seen and done what I have you loose your faith sometimes.’ He picked up my shaky hand and squeezed it right on the paper cut. I flinched and he immediately dropped it.

‘You were being asked about Bill; you protected Henry and sent him off to get something from the shelf. You were so sad for a split second then you carried on being you. I think Henry is the greatest little guy I have ever met.’

‘Would you have ever spoken to me? Or just followed me?’

‘I would have eventually.’

‘Sophie.’

‘Yea I guess but I didn’t want to talk to her before I had met you.’

‘But you did.’

‘Only because I was about to go off with her mum in an ambulance, I didn’t want her thinking I was some strange man.’

‘But you were you were stalking me!’

‘I just wanted to make it easier on her. I’ve booked a table if you want to go on a date, with no strings attached.’

I didn’t want to go for a meal, the whole idea seemed wrong to me. Formal, cliché and inappropriate not sure I wanted to relive the past. I just wanted to rummage his body and see if it was as good as I remembered but that seemed inappropriate now his intentions had been laid bare in-front of me.

I had to see his work all of his work. He would always keep a couple of pictures hidden from anyone.

‘Take me to see all of your work that would be my dream date, a good bottle of wine and a private showing.’

His face lost all colour. For a true artist to show all their work good, bad and private was a true test of how he felt about you. Oh I was not cleaver I hadn’t thought about it in those terms until I saw it in his face. It was a big ask.

We arrived at his studio; we had stopped on the way to get a bottle of champagne and strawberries and without a word I went in. He opened the wine expertly and I started my search. There all around me was the man I knew he would become. Moments captured, exposed like no other medium. All of human kind was hanging around me infiltrating my understanding of what nature and other humans can do to the planet or each other. Impact of missiles to the glove of a fighter or attach of a rioter to that of the actions of a dictator. The loss of home, love or life with crumpled bodies, crumpled lives, haunting stress filled faces all asking why.

Now I understood. I could never have lived with this but the world and history needed this. His mum had been insightful protecting her son and in some way protecting my little universe. I looked at him and saw the sadness the need to be held.

He waited for my reaction with bated breath. But how could I express how I felt? He led me to another room as the other had drained me this one filled me with energy and hope. Humanity flooded through and there in the middle was Henry, Sophie and me. The beauty in our normality shone.

The biggest Picture hung like the biggest planet amongst a universe of feelings. It was taken just after Christmas and the time we had spent together. It was around Zara’s the only place we met now. Henry had just jumped with joy he was in mid air; Sophie was in eyes raised in OMG! Mode captured with every detail of her strong personality. But the whole focus and where your eye was drawn to was me. It was not a flattering pose it showed me as I would love to be though. My face had this look you want to capture and hold. Ian had a great talent; greatness was in his prose of the piece. 

The shining stars around a universe shone more brightly when two parallel lives collided, making one sphere.

I could see for the first time the bigger picture, his message to me.

I really want you!

This is a live performance and looking at his face like Ian's Photos in the story, paint the emotion. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ubiinfvXs0

Parallel Universe Part 6

Tomorrow will be the last part of Parallel Universe. Let me know if you enjoyed it  x

How on earth am I going to figure this one out? And why did he want to be part of our lives and why now? Why did he track me down and come and live a stones throw from my door? I have never been one for conspiracy theories but it was beginning to feel like one.

‘Should we ask the children what they think would be best? Ian suggested what I would’ve done in any situation like this. I couldn’t ask the questions buzzing around my head, I was too desperate for the right answers and I wasn’t sure I would get the ones I wanted. I could feel the pain of my heart breaking already.

‘Yes, I guess we should ask Sophie and try to explain to Henry. They could stay with my friends until I’ve decided what’s best.’ I was thinking out loud but the shift in the atmosphere caused a tension that vibrated through Ian. I prickled with irritation over not being brave enough. But the situation was diverted when I got a call from Sophie and Zara was bringing the children over on Sophie’s instructions.

I dressed with the help of Ian which was compromising and eventful. As he had packed my bag my, his intentions was leapt out of it. None of the comfy clothes were there. He defended his reasoning with that they were easier for me with a plastered leg. He examined each delicate item until he got a smile or a laugh from me. I would have preferred to slide down the stairs on my bottom but having a very nice dress on made that impossible and he conceded that perhaps it was a little intractable but enjoyable.

We were sitting in his large bright modern kitchen that still held the historical charm of the building when Henry came rushing in to find us. Excited and bemused by everything he saw which brought warmth to Ian’s face, it brought chills of anticipation all over me. Which object would he get a fascination with and break? As Sophie followed by Zara came in he asked the question…..

‘Daddy Ian what’s a bummer and can I see Harley?’

I choked on my coffee, Sophie uttered

‘Oh my god! You just can’t say anything around him.’ And Zara’s eyes nearly popped out with laughing.

I could have rushed to Ian’s rescue and explained about young children’s minds but it was too precious of a moment to spoil with common sense. I just looked straight into Ian’s eyes with the joy of the humour and let him find his own way out of this one.

He decided to skim over the “daddy Ian” bit and got to the ‘Bummer’ and to my surprise he knew what the little chap meant.

‘A Hummer is a big American car.’

‘Can I ride in it?’

‘If your mum says that’s ok.’ I nod my head at the two boys with exciting toys eyes.

‘A Harley is a motor bike’ Henry was beside himself with pleads that would not abate so Ian held his hand and took him off to show him his toys, explaining that they were loud, leaving Sophie, Zara and me to have a catch up.

‘Why is Henry calling Ian, Daddy Ian?’ Sophie looked down mortified

‘I was talking about my dad.’

It was the first time she had had a dad she could call her own and I just couldn’t rip that away from her but how could I stop Henry from getting the illusion of having a father figure back in his life. I could see the glassy tears start to form and my heart cracked a deep crack that only your child can give you.

‘I think Ian understands.’

‘That’s not the point Zara, I’m forced into a situation I didn’t want and I’m not sure I can cope with.’

She came around to me and they both put their arms around me and the tears fell from us all. We pulled away at the same time Sophie started to explain her and Auntie Zara’s cunning plan.

Zara was an interior designer and property developer with Ian. They had a few three and four bedroom houses for rent around Bury St Edmunds.

‘Zara said we could take one that had just come up for rent, fully furnished over Christmas rent free so we didn’t have to stay with Ian.’

Sometimes I thought I would burst with pride.

‘Sophie you can call him dad, we will just have to get to some understanding with Henry later ok?’ She nodded and I saw the tears well up again. I held her hand.

‘You would be doing me a favour as houses empty around Christamas can be a liability. Another good thing Mum doesn’t know about this one either so you will be safe…. for a while.

Can Henry call me auntie?’ I smiled and loosened the grip of control just a little more they obviously could sort things out well enough without me. Now how scary is that!

‘Of course he can.’

Rafe walked in and put his arm around Zara hugged her and came over and kissed me on the top of the head. Love oozed from them as I coloured a little after what I had said to Ian about him and as we discussed moving into the house I tried to get my mind around the ever shifting relationships. 

Parallel Universe 5

Fifteen years of responsibility came tumbling out, of not sharing the burden or the joy. In the time it took me to fall asleep I know I spoke of loss but they all merged and mingled. In the middle of his bed I lay alone as I had over the years. I took no heed over his pleads to console until exhausted I quietly slept.

Voices and the pain woke me and my eyes took a while to focus. I flinched every time I remembered some of what I had said last night. My innermost thoughts and concerns rang in my ears and the contortions it caused on Ian’s face. I had never vented those emotions to anyone before.

I had to decide quickly what I wanted to happen, what direction I wanted my life to take and how to let go so I could guide Sophie so that she wouldn’t get hurt. I tried to move but the pain was intense and I had no idea where the painkillers were.

I assumed that only having one leg incapacitated would mean the other three limbs would oblige and help me out but silken sheets were slippery suckers and before I knew it I was sliding onto the floor. Boobs slipping their anchorage just as the door opened and Rafe and Ian came in. My bottom half was cocooned within the bed covers and as I grabbed anything to cover my dignity I fell flat on my face.

They ran to my aid, rearranged and straightened me out.

‘I was looking for my painkillers, my leg woke up hurting.’ They both smiled down at me. Ian went to find them leaving Rafe to sit me down. The room was elegantly beautiful and I sat taking it in as Rafe fussed around raising my leg.

‘You ok, you look…’

‘Like shit? I tried to give myself cheep Botox on the floor but missed and enlarged my nose instead.’ His concern left as his humour took hold of his face.

‘I have to leave soon, do you need anything? I can call back’

‘I’m sure I do but I can’t think of anything.’

‘Well call me if you do.’

‘Would but I don’t have your number.’

He gave me a business card and we both felt uncomfortable, unsure. In came Ian and put a tray on a writing table.

‘Have you boys kissed and made up?’

They looked over to me and smiled. I took the tablets that were being offered. They started talking business and it transpired that Rafe was Ian’s agent. Ian held off two shoots that he was due to do this coming week rearranging and rescheduling. Squeezing my shoulders and kissing the top of my head Rafe left. Now life was complicated and shit or was it shitly complicated? No such word as shitly but in my world there should be!

Coffee with warm milk poured by the type of man I find irresistible in attitude and looks, first thing on a Saturday morning without the kids, oh how I had dreamed of that! Always be careful what you dream for is a warning I should heed. All my friends that were divorced, divorced their feelings towards their ex’s. I seem to indulging in my every fantasy. He sat there studying me as I sat indulging my daydreams, well lets face it, that was as far as it was going to go, I might as well enjoy it.

‘I know you are going to be sensitive to any suggestion I make and suspicious but I think the kids should live here over Christmas. They are off from school; you need a few days of rest and a bit of a recoup.’ His face twitched when he knew a sensitive subject was coming and as far as reading me he was doing rather well but like all men he didn’t see the bigger picture. I tried to keep emotion or thought out of my face.

‘What do you think?’

‘You just want the kids?’

‘No I just assumed you came as a whole package.’ A nice touch I though using Sophie’s words against me so softly and gently.

‘What about after Christmas?’ He was confused I enlightened him to my thinking. ‘After they have lived in this space and had the life you are willing to give them for a week, what then? How will it be for them when they have to return home?’ I knew there was no room for all of us back at mine but I was concerned how this would impact on the children, mostly Henry.

‘Henry is so very young to understand that his father dies and Sophie gets a new one who lives in a house like this. When they have got to know you, what then? I could never offer them a life like this and your mother will not be able to stop herself from reminding me of that!’ He could have defended everything a thousand different ways but he chose to agree with me. But it was his next statement that had me in turmoil.

‘I want to help out, I don’t want to make their lives or yours harder than it needs to be or has been. I’ll do what ever you think is best I just want to be part of your lives.’

Parallel Universe Part 4

As promised here is the next part. 

I sat on the edge of the bed as my ex-husband ranted and raved to his friend about keeping his hands off his wife. I couldn’t help the bubbles of giggles that erupted the absurdity of the man was amusing in a strangely perverse way. He had never shown that amount of feeling to me when we had been together. The idea that a complete stranger would find me attractive was a little silly too, did he not see that?

Anyhow if Ian had kept his lustful needs under control just a little he wouldn’t be in this predicament. This last point I think he must have forgotten. The fact that he felt he could still treat me as a position of sorts narked my sensibility so that my sensible side just evaporated. I felt my left eyebrow rise and my eyes widen. In the middle of his illogical argument he looked at me, I had the slightest of smiles that held his attention. Rafe followed his gaze squeezed me and got up to leave.

‘You don’t deserve her’ he looked over to his friend and then back at me ‘Will see you in the morning. Give him what he deserves is my best advice. There is a good man deep inside sulking’ as he walked past Ian he laid his hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s a good job I know you but she is a free woman so don’t screw around or you will lose!’

As he left the threat lingered on. Confused a little and loosing the will to think it through, a stiffening, starchy anger built up that erupted a little within my mind but exploded out of my mouth.

‘I want a drink.’

‘You can’t your on painkillers.’

‘It’s time I was taking some more so they are out of my system so it don’t count! I want a drink, wine would be good, whisky if I have to and then you can sit down and tell me what the fuck you think you are playing at.’

I never knew I could glare but it worked its magic and off he trotted with his good looks shining through. Bugger him!

I heard his footsteps as he came in with the wine in a cooler and as I lay on the bed he sat on the pillowed chair his feet on the sumptuous matching stool. I had braced myself and had thought of what I wanted to say. It was witty and classic, organised and grown up but that was not what came out of my mouth Oh no! What came out was truthful and childish.

‘Let me just get this off my chest before you explain yourself. You have no claim over me or my daughter. For one tiny sperm and one second of pleasure does not give you the right to take the last fifteen, nearly sixteen years away. And for your information I like sex! And I will have sex with whom I like. If you can fuck my friend when we were married I can fuck your friend when we have been divorced for the last sixteen years. Got it!’

There lingered for a time thoughts of retrospect on his lips but he swallowed them and took a big gulp of whiskey. I sipped the lush refreshing wine, composed myself and carried on.

‘Why have you moved here and did you track me down?’ With his eyes averted to his whiskey he nodded.

‘Why?’

He searched for words, ideas and reasons but he just shrugged his shoulders.

‘Just knew I had too.’

‘That is so typical and so selfish.’ I saw the pain and wondered why it was there. ‘I’ve had enough of today; I can’t be bothered with it quite frankly.’ He laughed a small ripple of a laugh that vibrated through the air and touched me ever so slightly.

‘Why the laugh?’

‘Because when you’ve had enough you just close down, because you can never stay angry for long. You are never bitter.’

‘You have no idea.’

I took another sip that was bigger than the last one and savoured its flavours, closed my eyes and took in a breath to heighten the taste. Tears for no apparent reason started to fall he made a move to come over to me and I held up my hand and stopped him. I didn’t want his comfort. Then it all came tumbling out.

Would you like to read the next part the more likes the faster I write :-)

Parallel Universe Part 3

We all visibly sighed, for different reasons.

‘She is quite a young lady’ Francesca turned bemused and looked at me. I took it as a compliment but too exhausted to really comment. Zara squeezed my hand, her eyes were electrifying and she made me smile a deep and proud smile that buzzed.

‘I’ll take mother’ as though her mother was a misbehaving child. ‘And ring you in the morning’ looking at Ian. ‘Do what your daughter tells you.’ She scolded Ian. ‘That sounds so good, doesn’t it? I’m an aunty!......Now look after Jane.’

‘I think I will have a coffee, one of those nice coffees please Ian, I just want a word with Jane before I go’.

Zara had come back in with their coats. Ian stood smiling at his sister and his mother, one of those smiles Henry uses when he finds me and Sophie funny. I could feel myself swoon a little with the fatigue a sharp look from Ian to me that was swiftly conveyed to his sister, who gently manhandled her mother out of the house with efficient ease. Ian bringing up the rear so that Francesca could not double back and escape her departure.

So here I was in that other place that I so could have occupied. With a broken ankle late at night with no change of clothes, not even a toothbrush, desperate to get home and in my own bed. I started to text David about the dog and one came straight back at me that I knew was from Sophie. David would never use ‘OMG’ and he wasn’t that fast at returning texts.

‘Would you like me to carry you up stairs?’

‘No’ Was my short and startled reply. It was an amusing idea though.

‘Do you think you could make it up the stairs with help?’

‘I want to go home.’ There was a longing in my voice. At this ungodly hour, on a cold and bitter night it was a silly idea, totally impractical. Ian picked up on the vulnerable need and we made it to the door without too much effort or problem but when he drove his vehicle to the front of the house, my will to go home fell like an icy cold waterfall. How the hell was I going to climb, with a plaster on my leg and in an increasing amount of pain into, a chrome fitted black Hummer?

‘You have to be kidding.’ His eyes were full fun! How could he do this to me after the day I have just had. Fun was not what I could cope with and as the tears started to form into dew drops he held out his arm and somehow I trusted him! Him, of all people in the world as soon as he pulled my arm and swung my body expertly as a fireman, he carried me to the Hummer like a sack of potatoes. Had I decided to wear trousers that day? No, Short skirt and red knickers! They cut my thick denier tights off.

I felt like those sack of potatoes being loaded onto a lorry. He was not short but neither was he very tall so as I slipped missing the seat by a few inches, he grabbed my arse to hoist me into the seat. With an innate reaction, I slapped him around the face. Fuelling my indignation and in his good humour he took the slap with a low rumbling chuckle. Loading me in was one thing getting me out was going to be another and then there was the fact he would know where I lived. Swimming thoughts, sickening feelings and the worst thing of all is that we only lived ten minuets away from one another. How had that happened, I would like to know!

His house was in the centre of historic Bury St Edmunds, a short walk to the shops but quiet enough to be enjoyable. Mine was a two up two down clipper house as our finances had tumbled through Bill’s illness; we had to move just before he died. I wasn’t ashamed of my circumstances but I didn’t want pity. But as we drove up to my home, his face held it anyhow.

‘Jane I can appreciate you would like to sleep in your own bed and you need a few things but…’ I knew before he uttered the words. ‘Don’t you think it would be best if I grabbed a few things and took you back to mine?’ I don’t think your leg would take me swinging you up your stairs.’

I closed my eyes determined not to let my dew drops fall, they abated after sensible thought. I handed him my keys. Looking reassuringly into my eyes and he squeezed my hand. He went in my little universe. I visualised him ransacking the pictures dotted around depicting my life with Bill and the kids, opening my intimate draws, finding private things about who I have become. His eyes would scan every detail with his photographers and philosophers thoughts rummaging through and finding out about me. I had started to shake, for the first time real sadness bubbled within me, why was life so cruel.

I had just started to find my feet, now there was the ironic joke but I had started to stand alone again. Bill’s illness and his eventual death was new, I still woke forgetting he was gone and when I started to think of all his needs my body would sink and then I would remember that he had slipped from me, I would, with relief take a painful breath. But me and the children were forging a life together and to have had that without other complications, just for a few years would have been good.

He emerged with Holly my sweet little shaggy dog. Who was sick every time we went out in a car! I thought of my book and the wine again and my collision with that other universe. He went back inside and emerged with a holdall Sophie used for sleepovers. Its pink and purple flowers were not out of place in his hands and I wish the years of pain that man had caused me would flood my indignation, as they did in my mind when I had visualised our meeting again. I felt nothing though just so very, very empty.

He was back in the car and we were off and my thoughts turned to how I could possible get out of the car by myself. People had gathered around the streets as Christmas parties had come to their climatic end. Great! With my short skirt, red knickers and bulbous painful leg, and on the other foot was high heel shoe entertainment for the crowds no doubt. To add to the torment a friend of Ian’s came over to find out the story behind the new lady. Slightly drunk he slapped him on the back ‘you found her then.’ He looked down to my leg and slightly puzzled, hazily processed the fact I had a cast on my leg ‘What happened to you?’ slapping Ian on the back again. Before Ian could explain, I without thinking remarked with a hoity shrug

‘I tried to run away but fell for him and broke my leg’ He immediately sobered and laughed. I liked his laugh, it warmed me.

‘No wonder he has been looking for you, I like you.’

‘I like you too.’

‘Do you think you like me better sober or drunk?’

‘Sober!’

‘Bugger, better sober up and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He turned to Ian ‘You going to keep her?’

‘Rafe, would you help us out?’

‘With pleasure.’ His smile flipped my butterflies, enchanting my senses with his genuine pleasure at seeing me. Like a pair of crutches they helped me up the stairs with Honey in hot pursuit. Innuendos flew around as I was guided to Ian’s flamboyant bedroom and they sat me down on a Chaise Longue. Ian went to fetch the bags and Rafe kept staring at me in a very pleasing way. His short thick blond hair, stubbled chin and sparkling blue eyes played with my face lingering on my mouth and eyes. In his mid forties and slightly drunk, inhibitions were set free and instead of bravado there seemed an earnestness about him that I liked so when he came and sat next to me I started to gravitate towards him.  

Ian walked in with a face like thunder when he looked over to us both, but Rafe just smiled over to him and put his arm around me and tugged me close.

Rage is spontaneous and rather uplifting I thought.

Parallel Universe Part2



A Short Story to go with your coffee

Ian who had made it to the door was greeted with.

‘Hello dad where’s my mum!’

Accusation or statement it was hard to tell. Ian’s mothers face was trying to catch up with her thoughts and she looked down at me with accusations and miss understandings flying from her eyes like a blame seeking missile.

Sophie stood there and you could almost hear the cogs turn her thoughts. Her face set on questions and connotations made as her grandmother was taking in how she could best manipulate the situation to her advantage.

Meeting each other for the first time, Granddaughter squared up to Grandmother both looking as though they were choosing their weapons. Sophie had the advantage as her defence could be used as a weapon. Somehow I pitied her grandmother but not enough to stop the shoot out, after all I had a ring side seat.

Because of my daughter there were a few things I would’ve loved to ask and never would, a lot I wanted to say but couldn’t, sometimes the sacrifices are hard as a mother. I was hoping the long talks we had had about my other life and finding her farther gave us a good foundation of understanding each other. So as the battle began my fingers, legs and toes were all crossed.

Francesca stood with her indignant upper-class distain oozing from her face and her passive aggressive nature turned to max. Sophie visibly braced herself, not with the teenage angst of earlier that morning but a growing experience supporting her strong determined youthful face. It was Francesca’s undoing to try to intimidate my daughter. Choosing the love of a new family as her weapon of choice was a silly mistake and Sophie rebuffed it, she wasn’t going to miss something she never had, now was she! But her attach on me acted more like a sharp boomerang she was incapable of catching.

‘Why has your mother never bothered to tell us about my granddaughter?’

Ian moved forward to deflect the verbal blow, but Sophie held up her hand to them both, new dad and auntie she was in this fight on her own. I held the cushion ready to duck behind, this was not going to be pretty I could tell by Sophie’s locked jaw and the intent stare the hunter was about to be hunted! Thrilling and sickening all at the same time, I waited with heart pounding.

‘The day my mum found out she was pregnant with me she came to you for support. She had just found your son in bed with her look alike’ Oh that hurt, I could feel the rebound from all three of them. The brutal truth hit them all at once. As they came back from the recoil she metaphorically hit a left jab thrusting and lifting their upper jaws to a pursed lip position.

‘My mum could have pleaded for you to listen, but you, without a thought, told her your son was better off without her. Her pleads would have been futile.’ Ian looked over to me; I hadn’t put it quite so brutally. Did he deserve the truth? Well Sophie thought so.

‘If she had asked for help’ her voice was now grown up and authoritative as though she was some psychologist reporting on an issue. ‘She would’ve been beholden to you’ calmly each statement was delivered. ‘Your disrespect brought about you being ostracized from me, at least until my mum thought I could cope with the rejection.’

‘I would never have rejected you.’ Pleading and appalled played to perfection for the most effect a sympathy vote but Francesca pained face made no impact on Sophie.

‘But you did, you rejected my mum!’

And for your information my mum didn’t just throw herself at the next available man, she loved my dad too much for that.’ Looking over to Ian, who to be fair was coming to terms with a daughter in his life quite well. ‘Oh no, she met her responsibility and concentrated her whole life on me. In fact if I hadn’t set her up with Bill she would have never had another man cluttering up her life.’ Sophie intercepted the next blow from ever leaving Francesca’s lips ‘and for your information he didn’t leaver her by choice… she paused for effect and for her grandmother’s one sided thoughts to catch up ‘He died!’ I didn’t tell Ian that either. Gasps were let out as the gut punch made impact. ‘Bill was a proper dad, he thought of me, of mum, of us! You have a lot to live up to and a lot to make up for if you want to be any part of my life.’

She turned to me as if I was the child and she the parent who had to tell of the hardship of life. ‘He has to be part of it mum, he exists now!’ I knew what she ment, for a long time now she had thought of him as this mythical character, a one sided person who lived in a story that I told her when she asked me too. I had to sever a little of the umbilical cord that held us together. Another frightening snip towards not needing me for her life support but just for advice, whether she took it or not was now her decision alone.

‘The thing is I have to make up my mind what I want from our relationships.’ My eyes and ears rang out with her word structure. ‘You see I have a little brother and we all come as a package.’ My heart pounded with their meaning- this I was not prepared for.

There was a kafuffle going on at the door again. I heard Henry’s little voice and a mellow humoured voice full of apologies over not being able to keep the little fellow any longer from his mum. Henry hugged me and peaking from beneath my arm he asked a simplistic question of Ian.

‘Are you going to be my new daddy? My daddy left me. He went over the rainbow to heaven. He can see me but he won’t come back. I miss flying my kite.’

What a mess my life is, I looked down with my burning eyes.

‘Sorry mum but you’re no good at kite flying. Dad said you’re better at dancing like the kite than flying one. But that was our secret.’

He embarrassingly buried his head in my chest while a rally of giggles rang out.

‘How are you mum, he muffled.’

‘I’m fine and dandy I whispered in his ear.’ He giggled his comfort giggle.

‘Well we have to go,’ Sophie looked at me coming over to cuddle us.’ I suggest you stay and have a well earned rest mum. You and Ian can thrash out how you feel but my mind will not change. He can bring you back home tomorrow and then we could get to know each other. We need help with getting ready for Christmas at least he could do is help me with that! But I don’t want to see you gran until I get to know my dad on my own’. Then down at her aunty Zara ‘and if you don’t mind I’ll give you a call when I’ve got my head around it all.’

David came in his face had a satisfied look about it with admiration. As Sophie bent down to kiss me goodbye she whispered.

‘How did I do mum? David was listening in on the phone so he could make sure we were ok. It was his idea for you to stay so you could talk about it all. Will you be OK?’

‘I’ll be fine and dandy.’

As they walked out the door though I wasn’t so sure, I was tired, in pain and had to explain/defend my life to people who I didn’t know anymore.

 My life was really shitty!