THE BITTERNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SOUL
Off you go! Youd be better off in a boarding school! Get out of our family! I remember shouting at the top of my voice, my words shaking with emotion.
The target of my fury back then was my cousin, ThomasTom, as we called him.
Heavens, how I adored him as a child! Flaxen hair, clear blue eyes, always brimming with good humour. That was Tom.
Back in those days, the whole family would gather around the table for birthdays and holidays. Out of all my cousins, Tom was my favourite. He could talk the hind legs off a donkey and was quick with a joke. He also sketched beautifullyhed dash off five or six pencil drawings in an evening. Id sit and watch, rapt, unable to tear my eyes away from his handiwork. Id secretly squirrel his sketches away in my writing desk, treasuring every one.
Tom was two years older than I.
When he was fourteen, his mothermy fathers younger sisterpassed away suddenly, never waking one morning. Then came the difficult question: Where would Tom go now? His father was long gone, elsewhere in England, remarried and not wishing to disturb his new family life. My relatives all shruggedbusy with their own children and troubles, it seemed. Blood was thicker than water, but only until the sun went down.
So with only two children of their own, my parents agreed to take Tom in. At first, I was pleasantly surprised at the thought of Tom living with us. But almost immediately, something about him unsettled me.
Mum tried to comfort the grieving lad. Is there anything youd like, Tom dear? Dont be shy.
Without hesitation, Tom replied, A Hornby train set.
That was no small requestthe thing cost a fortune. I remember being affronted. His mother had just died, and all he wanted was a toy train? My parents, though, bought him his hearts desire. Then came more requests: a cassette player, a new pair of jeans, a branded jacket. This was the eighties, when such things werent just expensive, but hard to come by at all. Yet my parents, pinching pennies from us, always put Toms wishes first. My younger brother and I understood, though resentment sometimes simmered quietly within.
By sixteen, Tom was more interested in girls than in toysan amorous youth, he was. To my discomfort, he even turned his affections on me, his cousin, but being athletic, I stood my ground, rebuffing every unwelcome advance. More than once we came to blows, and there were evenings I cried myself to sleep. I told no one, not wishing to worry my parentschildren, after all, are seldom inclined to discuss such delicate matters.
After I drew my line, Tom quickly transferred his affection to my friends, and they, in turn, competed for his attention. He was popular, after all.
And then, Tom stolefrom us, without shame. I recall saving up pocket money in an old biscuit tin to buy gifts for my parents. One day, the lot was gone, and Tom denied any involvement, looking me square in the eye with not a hint of guilt. The betrayal cut to the bone. How could he steal under the same roof? Tom, like a vandal, trampled our familys trust. I sulked, wounded and confused, while Tom remained oblivious, utterly convinced the world owed him everything.
In that moment, bitterness flared. I screamed, losing all composure: Get out of our family! I remember lashing out with wordsso many, more than could fill a hat.
Mum could barely calm me. From that day, I shut Tom out. I ignored him, treated him as if he were invisible. Later, I learned the rest of the family always knew what a character Tom wasthey all lived nearby and had seen the mischief. Our family home was a bit further off, so wed been spared for a while.
Toms former schoolmasters later confided to my parents, Youve taken on a thankless task. Watch that he doesnt lead your own children astray.
At his new school, Tom found Alice. She adored him instantly, and after finishing school they married. A daughter arrived before long. Alice suffered through Toms wild moods, his endless stories, and countless affairs. As the old saying goes, Maidens woes are halved, a wifes are doubled. All her life, Alice was devoted to Tom, her attachment seemingly unbreakable.
Tom would later be called up for national service, sent to Scotland. While stationed there, he managed to start another familyhow, Ill never know, but after demobilisation, Tom stayed up north for a time, fathering a son.
Not to be outdone, Alice followed him to Scotland, brought him back by hook or by crook, and the family was reunited.
My parents never did hear a word of thanks from Tom, though they had taken him in not for gratitude, but out of duty.
Now TomThomas Edward, as he now insists on being calledis sixty. Hes a regular at the Church of England, attending services each Sunday. He and Alice have five grandchildren.
By all appearances, things turned out well, yet that old bitterness between Tom and me still lingers deep below the surface.
I suppose, as the saying goes, I will never eat my honey with bitterness but neither can I forget.
