Butterfly (Part III) Badgers Parting Gifts
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| Writer/Model - Lexus Bradbury |
My Mum shouted me downstairs to meet her friend Karen. I was quite a timid child, particularly after what my Father put us through. I probably didn't realise it at the time, but he'd changed me. There she was, all smiles. I already described her at the end of Part II, she was effectively a dyke.
I genuinely thought it was just my Mums friend, I was only little. I have a vague memory of the first day we met. Sholver had a local quarry. It was often a day out for the locals. We'd go up there in summer and take in the view. It overlooked the whole of Manchester, it's quite a sight to be honest. Mum, Karen and myself, went up there for the afternoon. I think I have pictures of the day somewhere. She seemed like a nice lady to be fair, I had no indication she was into my Mum like that. Turns out my Mum and Karen had quite the history.
Karen knew my Mum from way back when she was with my Father. My Dad introduced them apparently, he was hoping for a threesome the fool. My Dad never ceases to amaze me with his idiocy. He introduced a dyke, to my Mum, hoping for a threesome. What do you think might have happened ? Needless to say, my Dad didn't get his three way, Karen only had eyes for my Mum. Apparently, my Father eventually worked it out and told my Mum at knifepoint, to tell Karen, she never wanted to see her again. That's my Mums side of things. My Dads side of things, is he caught them both in bed together, and kicked Karen out. I believe my Mum. My Dad is way too weak a person to deal with someone like Karen. It's not important. What is important, is I shouldn't have been hearing any of this crap growing up. So, my Father doesn't like Karen, and Karen doesn't like my Father.
We had such a good first day out, I think I cried when Karen had to go home, she was awesome. Then I have a gap in my memory, because the next thing I can remember, is her living with us. Now there's possibly not a gap, because she could have made the move very quickly, or I genuinely can't remember the gap before she moved in.
It would have been around this time, that my Aunty Jen took her kids and headed to pastures new down south in Portsmouth. I really missed them when they'd gone. I don't blame her for leaving though. Anyone with dreams and ambitions, should leave Oldham immediately. I liked my Aunty Jen, she was like a nice version of my Mum. Softer in nature and more forgiving. I used to go down south visiting them, I had some amazing holidays down there.
So now, there's Uncle Sam, Mum, Karen, and me, all in 33 Wells Road. I used to share a bedroom with my Mum. Karen would give me her Walkman to listen to music at bedtime. Den Den Den Den Den, Inspector Gadget, woo woooooo, remember the chart remix by The Kartoon Krew ? I'm listening to Karen's tape, and all of a sudden, I hear my Mum howling in pain. I took the headphones off to tell Karen to stop hurting my Mummy. Karen explained she wasn't hurting my Mummy. I wasn't convinced until my Mum assured me Karen wasn't hurting her. Hindsight prevails now, and it turns out, she was fucking my Mother, with me in the same room. The headphones were an elaborate idea to keep me out the loop, so they could fuck. And there was me thinking Karen was just loaning me her headphones to be nice. You do not fuck in front of kids. You do not fuck in front of other peoples kids. We've already established my Mum was nuts, here's your first indication something was up with Karen.
I can't remember much of the early stages of Mum and hers relationship. I find that fascinating, because my memory is usually so good. I suppose the next clear memory I have, is seeing my Grandads car pull up unannounced to the house. I was delighted to see him, what a lovely surprise. Usually, he and my Nan would get out the car, and come and knock on, but only Grandad got out. My Mum, sensing something was up, rushed to the door to greet him. I knew something wasn't right when Grandad went and sat back in the car. My Mum came into the living room in tears, asking Karen would she look after me a few hours, then she left in the car with Uncle Sam. Nan was in the passenger seat covered in a coat, heavy look on her face.
Being left with Karen was anxiety inducing. You ever been a kid and left with an adult, that you sense doesn't know what the fuck they're doing ? She wasn't rotten to me or anything, I just didn't feel particularly safe in her care, so I fucked off upstairs to my room.
I don't recall seeing my Mum for a good few days after she left. When she returned, her eyes were bulging and bloodshot red. I don't know where Uncle Sam was, but he didn't come back with my Mum. The last time I saw pain like that etched on my Mothers face, was the day my Father left. This was something different though, something more painful. She got through the door, fell into Karen's arms, and began hysterically crying. Karen turned her head towards me and flicked her head upwards, to tell me to go upstairs for a bit, I quietly left.
I knew something major had happened, but had no idea what, so I sat on the end of my bed, waiting for answers. Karen was the person who came to my room to break the news of my Nans death. My Mum wanted nothing at all to do with me. I could see the sorrow in Karen's eyes as she explained. Not really for herself, but she was sad for my Mum. Karen can't hide pain she's feeling, her eyes go a weird shape, like little commas side by side pointing downwards. I was shocked, I don't recall crying at the time. It was my first taste of grief, and generally, kids are quite resilient.
Nan and Grandad had gone visiting Uncle Colin in prison for the afternoon. I don't know the details, but they'd got into an argument with Colin, and Nan began complaining she felt hot and unwell.
I was kept off school a good week, I wish I hadn't been to be honest. I can remember coming downstairs one morning, to find my Mother stood front and centre of our large living room window. She was gazing out through the thick, smoke stained net curtains, up to the sky. She was just stood there statuesque, gazing beyond the clouds, up towards the heavens, looking for her Mum. "Are you ok Mummy" I asked. She turned her head towards me briefly, her eyes red, and her face etched in misery. Then, without reply, she turned back to the clouds, and resumed looking. Karen looked after me for a good few week, my Mum was like a zombie. I've already said Karen didn't really have a clue what she was doing, but she did the best she could.
I didn't want to be in the house anymore, it was like my Mum was a stranger. The house was so heavy and filled with misery. Some time before, my Mum had given me her old record player with some records. I'd never bothered with them once in all the time she'd given them to me. Boredom got the best of me with all my mates being at school, so I set the record player up, and fished around for what record might be a good one to play. I'd never heard of any of the songs or the artists on the records, so randomly, I pulled out a small single and banged it on. There was crackling, and then one of the most beautiful songs I'd ever heard. I know your eyes in the morning sun, I feel you touch me in the pouring rain. And the moment that you wander far from me, I wanna feel you in my arms again. What a beautiful song I'd found. The instrumental mixed with the lush layered harmonies, it was like nothing I'd ever heard before. How had I not played these records before ? I played it on repeat all day, never growing tired of what I was hearing. The first ever record I played, was How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees. I consider myself very fortunate to have such a moment in my life. Ever since that day, I consider The Bee Gees to be my favourite band, and I'm a big vinyl collector.
A few week passed by, and my Mum finally started talking to me again. I went back to school, and things resumed some sense of normality. Not complete normality, because I noticed both Karen and my Mum were drinking most nights. I figured it's just something adults do, it's normal, and no harm was being done.
The next milestone, was my Uncle Sam being asked to leave Wells Road. Since my Mum had got into a brand new lesbian relationship, he was in the way. I was really upset about it, I still am. It was his house as much as my Mums. Why should he go to facilitate Mums new girlfriend. I'd heard Karen rabbiting on about him when I was in bed, telling my Mum how she should ask him to leave. He did leave in the end, I think he went to stay with Grandad for a bit while he waited for a flat.
I remember him coming back to visit me, he was drunker than usual. Sam loved his Mum, everyone did to be fair, she was the Queen on the Bradbury chess board. You could see by the level of drunk he was, that he was really struggling with the loss. He reached into his pocket, hands trembling, and pulled out two pound for me, it felt like a lot of money back then. I went to the local shop with it and bought some balloons. When I returned, I noticed him walking towards me with his hand stuck out. He looked like he was going to do a chop type move on my forehead, so I ducked underneath him. Turns out he wasn't, he just wanted to pat his favourite nephew on the head. That was the last time I ever saw him.
He did get his flat in the end. Grandad had gone round to see him one Sunday afternoon, only to find there was no answer. It was only a few months after my Nan passed. I don't know what made Grandad act the way he did, fatherly instinct I guess. But he suspected something bad had happened, so he kicked Sam's front door down. What Grandad discovered behind that front door, can only be described, as every loving fathers worst nightmare. He found him on all fours in front of his living room chair, face down, dead. When the police and ambulance arrived, my Grandad had Sam's lifeless body lay beside him, head resting on his legs, while he stroked his hair. The police officer was disgusted in what he saw, and said to my Grandad "You know he's dead right". My Grandad told him straight, "I've not long since buried my wife, now I have to bury my Son. If you do not get out of this flat right now, someone's going to be burying you". I know this because the adults discussed it in front of me afterwards. It was at that point, I ceased being a child, and became a young adult. My childhood was a feather at the mercy of the elements, vanishing off out of the living room window, into the distance, never to be seen again.
I was overwhelmed with guilt, remembering the time I thought he was going to chop my head with his hand. Only to realise after I'd ducked, he just wanted to touch the top of my head. And he gave me two pound as well. And I did him dirty like that. Now he was never going to touch his nephews head ever again. I'd deprived him of that connection with something he loved and adored. Maybe if I'd have let him touch my hair, he might not have died.
I blamed myself for a long time after he died, I kept it all inside. My Nans death didn't impact me half as much as Uncle Sam's did. I don't know why that was, it just was. Any progress my Mum made after her Mums death, was instantly erased, and she was right back to square one. I figured I had no right to be upset, not when I saw the state of my Mum. Even to this day, I don't often think of my Nan. Yet every day, I think of Uncle Sam. I don't blame myself anymore, I blame my Mum for asking him to leave Wells Road.
Being a nosey kid, and listening to their conversations, there was no clear cause of death for Uncle Sam. The autopsy revealed nothing, yet on the death certificate, they'd written choking to death. My Mum quizzed this and was told "We can't write died of a broken heart". Sam was nothing without his Mum, he loved her dearly. Already an alcoholic, and on top of leaving Wells Road, once the home of his Parents, it must have all been too much.
Everyone was consoling my Mum, they didn't realise I might be grieving too. I had some cartoon pictures in photo frames on my bedroom wall. I pulled them down and replaced the images inside with pictures I had of my Nan and my Uncle Sam. It was months before my Mum saw them on the wall and realised what I'd done. It was like time stood still for me. I was watching the other kids in my class be kids, while I was sat thinking about the two loses the family had experienced. My thoughts were the colour black, the topic was death. I realised one day I would die too. It was soul destroying.
I came home from school one day to be greeted by my Grandad. A once joyful man, now sad and sombre. Mum asked me to sit down, so I did. Mum went on to explain that she'd noticed I'd put my Nan and Uncle Sam's pictures in my frames on the wall. Grandad patted his knee for me to go join him. Ordinarily, I loved chilling with my Grandad, but I just couldn't, I knew I was on the verge of breaking down. My Mum said she'd had a word with my teacher, and my teacher had given her a book, it was called Badgers Parting Gifts. It was a book to help kids cope with grief. I really didn't want to hear it, I was barely holding myself together as it was. She began to take me through the pages of the book. I know she meant well, but I wish she hadn't. When she finished the book, miraculously, I'd not shed a tear. I knew I had to though, the back of my throat was all swollen, so I got up to go to the bathroom to cry in solitude. As I walked by my Mum, she grabbed my arm, and looked me square in the eyes. I can still see her face to this day. There must have been about a ten second pause as she looked into my soul, we saw each others pain and grief. I broke down in tears, I couldn't hold it in any longer, my Mum forced it out of me. The pain had become too much, and my Mums approach was too confrontational for me to hide it any longer. I can still see her face, a haunting moment between Mother and child, brought together by grief. Below is the book she brought home.
My family had been decimated, and all it took, was six months. Jen had moved to Portsmouth. Sue had fallen out with my Mum over Nans funeral. Colin was rotting in prison. Nan died. And now, Uncle Sam was gone too. Everything turned to dust very quickly. It left Mum and me vulnerable.
I'm writing this now, with company present in the same room. Here I am, doing exactly the same thing I was doing when my Mum confronted me with that book. I'm holding it in, on the verge of tears. I think I better pop off to the bathroom and have ten minutes eh. I'll be back next week with Part IV. Rest In Peace Cora Marian Bradbury, and Rest In Peace Christopher Bradbury. Two special people who only ever showed me love, now etched in stone. I miss you x
See you next week, but for now, Goo Goo Ga Ga x
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