We lived above a row of local shops

In what was termed a corporation scheme,

Where dogs would roam at will and foul the streets.

 

Our stairway door was red as I recall,

Between the bookies and the bakery,

And up the stairs were two more doors, both green.

 

There was a back door in the stairway too,

It opened to a tiny oblong yard

Where owners of the shops could leave their bins.

 

A flight of stairs ascended from the yard

It led up to a path and then a gate

And there were little gardens left and right.

 

The rear view was a most indecorous sight

Six foot below our windows ran a ledge

Because the shops were deeper than the flats.

 

I always hoped one day I’d get to leap

Like Batman from the ledge down to the lawn

But barbed wire served to thwart my bold attempts.

 

And just as well, for though it looked like fun

My little legs would not have carried me

Beyond the yard and past the privet.hedge

 

The house itself was standard for its time

Two bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom, living room

With painted woodchip paper on the walls.

 

The only wall that differed was the one

Inside the living room around the fire.

I don’t recall the pattern any more.

 

I do remember polystyrene tiles

Upon the ceiling. In my parents’ room

The carpet was a sickly shade of green.

 

I had an older brother, eighteen months

My senior and we shared a room. And we

Were very close, although we used to fight.

 

Most Saturdays we wouldn’t see our Dad,

Unless he worked the night-shift, then we might

Just glimpse him as we woke and he retired.

 

He had to get some sleep before the match

And so our mother always took us out

And we’d do something absolutely free

 

Like watching trains go by in Princes Street

Or see the ducks get fed at Blackford pond

Or play on swings at Meadows. It was fun!

 

This Saturday was different from the rest.

Our Mum popped out to get some messages

With string bag and her book of Green Shield stamps

 

And so our Dad was looking after us.

We saw him walking out the door at Ten

To where? With whom? We never dared to ask

 

When Mum returned she asked where Dad had gone.

We said we didn’t know – although we did,

And deep inside her heart she knew it too.

 

She baked some cookies – coconut meringue,

The recipe was from her Bero book

We licked the sugary spoon and scraped the bowl.

 

But it was such a lovely day outside

And so myself, my brother and my mum

Put on our coats (in case the weather turned)

 

We headed to the bottom of the brae

Up Libby Dams to Hermitage of Braid

Where Mum would point out names of flowers and trees.

 

How red the squirrels were back then. It’s strange

To see them grey, like garden ornaments

That move. We gazed upon the water too

 

A year before I stood in that same place

And leaned a little too far forwards when

I tried to talk to sticklebacks  - and fell.

 

We also saw two ponies as they stuck

Their heads above a fence. We fed them grass,

and when the path was quiet we sang songs.

 

We skipped that day, quite literally. We skipped

Inside the kitchen when we came back home.

We found a rope and sang to Cowboy Joe.

 

It’s funny how the days seemed long back then

These days I couldn’t fit so much inside

An afternoon. What joy to be so young.

 

But all day long one question would abound

I wonder where your daddy’s gone today?

She only wondered out of hope, I’m sure.

 

Her answer came a minute after six

He fumbled with his key then slammed the door

And we heard angry footsteps in the hall.

 

The kitchen ceased to be a room of play

For everybody knew the drill by now

He entered with a paper in his hand.

 

He didn’t even take his jacket off

Or say hello to either of his sons

And we could see the devil in his eyes

 

‘So whaur ye been?’ he snapped with enmity

That oozed from every stinking, addled pore

‘I took the children for a walk’, she said

 

‘You’re a liar!’ he roared, as was the norm

For now he could begin an argument

The kind he liked. The kind he always won.

 

‘Goan git yir Granny, boys’, my Mother shrieked

For Dad’s mum also lived upon the scheme

‘No. Dinnae bother!’ he replied. We froze.

 

‘Goan play inside your room. There’s nothing wrong,

Ah need tae huv a wee word wi yir Ma’,

And as we left, Dad slammed the kitchen door

 

We lay upon our beds and hid our heads

Beneath our pillows – like we did most nights

While Dad would push his weight and Mum would yell.

 

Some nights our Mother slept inside our beds

But still he’d come to shout and bawl and curse

One night he shook me thinking I was her.

 

That night all three of us lay side by side

It made us feel much stronger in a way

That’s odd because we were so terrified.

 

Some nights she’d come to bed while he was out

And use our chest of drawers to block the door.

And pray to God she didn’t need the loo.

 

But this day was the worst that we had known

And bear in mind we’d seen him throwing chairs

At six and seven, what were we to do?

 

His maniacal shouting shook the house

As bodies shook the furniture. The sound

Of slaps and cries were not for children’s ears.

 

And then we heard the scream to end all screams

It shivered down my spine like forks on plates

Instinctively we rose from where we lay

 

We ran inside the kitchen where we saw

Our mother bent as Dad had gripped her hair;

Her head against his belly full of beer

 

His thumb and index finger nails were pressed

Upon her bottom lip which dripped with blood

On hearing us he knew he’d gone too far

 

Instinctively he let her go and came

Out to the hall and closed the kitchen door,

Perhaps concerned to see his children cry?

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‘See that?’ he said, and pointed to the door,

‘That isnae fit tae be a mother’, then,

Can you believe, he asked us what was wrong?

 

And as we cried he told us not to cry,

We tried our best but it could not be done,

For saturated hands cannot dry eyes.

 

By now his voice was softer, almost calm

Above the putrid smell of alcohol

And sweat, that ran across his cheeks and brow

 

He saw us staring at his blood stained shirt,

But too ashamed to say what he had done,

He smiled and said ‘It’s just tomatae sauce’.

 

He told us that our Mother was okay,

And slowly opened up the kitchen door,

When suddenly our Mother wasn’t there

 

Without a second’s thought, she’d opened up

The window and descended to the ledge

And jumped beyond the barbed wire to the lawn.

 

How frightened would a mother have to be

To leave her home and children in this way

Without a penny or her overcoat?

 

Dad sobered up and sent me down the shops

For Sun Kool Kola, crisps and sweets. Then we

Sat down to Doctor Who and Basil Brush.