Free Mummy Knew by Lisa James

are ya?’ she asked.
    ‘Mum, it’s him,’ said Cheryl. ‘Ask Diane. He’s always leering. I can’t stand it much longer.’
    ‘Well, you know where the fucking door is,’ snarled Mum.
    Cheryl burst into fresh tears and began to stuff some of her clothes into a plastic bag. ‘I’m going over to Nanny’s for a few days.’
    ‘That’s right,’ said Mum. ‘You always did like to stir the shit. What’s the matter, you jealous?’
    ‘How can you say that to your own daughter?’ asked Cheryl, shaking her head. ‘It’s sick.’
    I couldn’t quite work out what it was all about, but I suspected Dad had been rude with Cheryl. The thought frightened me.
    Cheryl left and went to stay with Nanny later that afternoon. The atmosphere in the flat got even worse. Davie and I were the only ones left, and we didn’t know which way to turn. We spoke in whispers and spent most of our time in our rooms. We never knew when another row between Mum and Dad would erupt. But we didn’t have long to wait.
    ‘I ain’t no fucking pervert,’ shouted Dad, followed by the sound of something smashing against the wall.
    ‘When have I ever said that?’ protested Mum, more than a hint of appeasement in her voice. ‘I love you, Frank. Just calm down.’
    The shouting went on for what seemed like hours. I occupied myself by playing schools with my dollies, trying my best to block out the screams and shouts in the room next door. One of the neighbours rang the front doorbell to see if Mumwas alright, and she shouted at them to ‘mind your own fucking business’.
    Shortly after that it went quiet for a while, and just when I thought it was all over, Dad yelled, ‘I’ve had enough of you and this shit-hole, you fucking whore. I’m going.’
    ‘Please, Frank,’ Mum sobbed. ‘Please don’t leave me.’
    I heard the front door nearly slam off its hinges then Dad’s voice shouting through the letterbox: ‘And don’t think I’m ever coming back. You were a shit fuck anyway.’
    I was over the moon that Dad had left, but Davie told me not to count my chickens.
    ‘He’ll probably be back later,’ he predicted miserably, ‘off his head on drink.’
    I was worried Davie was right, but I kept my fingers and toes crossed anyway.
    The flat looked as though a tornado had sped through it, with broken cups and upturned furniture strewn about. It was a couple of days before we began to believe that Dad wouldn’t be back, but then we gradually reappeared one by one, as if we’d been taking shelter from a storm. In a way we had been. Diane came back from her boyfriend’s, Cheryl came home from Nanny’s and Davie and I emerged from our bedrooms, just in time to see Mum slam the door to her own. She didn’t want to be a part of the family reunion.
    ‘Just leave me alone, will you?’ she shouted if any of us tapped on her door.
    It was a shame Mum was so upset. I thought she would have been pleased to get rid of him. Grown-ups were too complicated for me.
    The flat felt different without Dad. It was bliss to be able to walk around without fear and watch TV and use the kitchen when we wanted to. When Dad was at home he dominated every room. If he was in the front room we’d all be too frightened to go in unless we knew for sure he was in one of his better moods, and even then we had to remain on guard for a change in the wind. If he was slouched over the kitchen table, we’d go and get a drink from the bathroom tap rather than show up on his radar. It just wasn’t worth the risk of upsetting him. But all that had changed now. It was like being released from some sort of prison, and best of all, now that he had gone, I didn’t have to be careful of accidentally mentioning Nanny’s or Jenny’s names. I was free to pop across the road and visit them any time I wanted to.
    Everyone, apart from Mum, seemed happier than they’d been for a long time, including Eddie the dog. Poor Eddie had suffered so much. Dad had taken to kicking and