Finding My Place
Mum, what are you doing?! I nearly choked on my own words, barely holding back tears as I watched Mum fling my handful of belongings out of the wardrobe. My favourite red polka-dot dress landed carelessly on the floor, immediately attracting my little brothers attention. Ben grabbed hold of the belt and promptly shoved it into his mouth. Dont, Benny! Give it here!
Oh, youre fussing over a rag! Mum snorted, throwing my jeans onto the growing pile and slamming the wardrobe shut. Out! Now!
But where, Mum? Where am I supposed to go? And at this hour? Whats wrong with you?
Mum glared at me, Ill do as I please in my own house! And youve no place here!
What about me? Isnt this my home too?
No, love. Youve nothing herenothing at all! she retorted, picking Ben up and wiping his nose with the hem of my favourite dress. Stop testing my patience! Just when I was getting my life on track, youre trying to ruin everything! Well, I wont have it!
Mum, what am I ruining? What?! I tried to catch my breath.
Oh, stop pretending! Whos been fluttering her eyelashes at Steve, eh? Not you?
Mum! My voice broke, making Ben jump in fear and burst into tears. It was always me who calmed him down, distracting him anyhow, so hed stop crying. Mums new husband couldnt stand his sons tears, or really anything that reminded him of having a child around. And Mum, who used to be so caring, now simply handed Ben to me and retreated to her room.
Look after him! Youre old enoughtime to help out!
Old enough. Just yesterday, I was their little darling, but overnight Id become, as Mum now called me, a spare part. The last two years had transformed our family so quickly, I could barely keep up.
First, Dad died of a heart attack. It seemed so unfairpointless, really. If someone at that bus stop had just cared enough to help, perhaps hed still be here. He wasnt even fifty. Everyone just walked by, busy with their day. Maybe they thought he was drunk, or unwell, lying there in the cold November air. When someone finally stopped, it was already too late.
I remembered how Mum respondedshe just froze, barely a flicker of emotion. I tried to reach her, but nothing worked. She buried Dad without shedding a tear, then locked herself away, forgetting entirely that I was left alone.
We had no close family, and Mums friends had long faded away. My parents always took pride in their little world, insisting we needed no one else; Id believed that too, and even resented guests invading our cocoon. Why bother with outsiders? It was fine just the three of us.
That lasted until I started primary school and was seated next to Rosie, a lively lass with a curtain of shiny black plaits. She wore her hair with such pride, as if her head could barely carry the weight. I loathed my own unruly curls, which, no matter how often Mum tried to smooth and braid them, stuck up like dandelionshence my enduring nickname.
It took me two days to work up the nerve to stroke Rosies braid, after shed muttered about chopping it all off. Youre madits beautiful! I whispered, and that was the start of our friendship.
Rosie was the fourth of many in the sprawling Evans family, whose tumbledown house seemed to collect siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles under one busy roof. My visits there left me overwhelmed with all the names and faces, but kindness flowed as freely as the tea. Rosies mum ushered everyone straight to the kitchen, feeding them until we could barely move, while older siblings joined in, helping with lessons or teaching us to cook. Even the smallest children could whip up a scone or a meat pie in minutes, while at home, I wasnt even allowed near the stove.
Through Rosies family, I learned that having relatives and friends wasnt always a bad thing. On birthdays, and even for no reason at all, Rosie received armfuls of gifts and sweets. Why? I asked once. Its not even your day. Rosie looked just as puzzled by my question. Why wait for a reason to treat the ones you love? When New Year comes, then youll really see presents! shed laugh, and Id always laugh along.
Mum didnt approve of this friendship, and it was fortunate her job meant she was rarely home when I dashed off to Rosies after school for warm apple cake and sunlit conversation in the big kitchen. Those afternoons were a lifelinethere, I belonged.
When Dad died, it was Rosies family who sent her older brothers round with a handful of pounds to help us organise the funeral, while Mum locked herself in her room. After, Rosie cried with me, our tears falling into the dough she kneaded for piesso many, the fridge overflowed, and the neighbours lent us space.
For days, Rosies brothers looked after us, silently getting things done, protecting us where we couldnt protect ourselves. Their steady presence made an impression.
When I later asked why, Rosie replied, How else? Youre family now. And with no men in your house, someone had to help. A few months later, Rosie was engaged. It shocked me. Youre too young! What about your studies? You wanted to be a doctor.
I still do, she said, carefully folding her wedding veil. Dads spoken with my fiancétheyve agreed Ill go to university in London. I trust my parents. They want whats best for me.
At her wedding, I nearly cried. Then, hearing shed be living in Londonher in-laws having bought them a flatI did cry. What was I going to do without her?
Mums new partner, Steve, had already appeared in our lives by then, and Rosie worried about how Id started dragging my feet, reluctant to go home after college. I couldnt tell her the truthabout Steves lingering in the hallway or Mums temper. After Ben was born, she became impossible; I started locking my bedroom door, which only made her more cross.
Still, I loved Ben and willingly helped, though the sleepless nights spent soothing him took their toll, and twice, Id fainted at college, sparking nasty rumours.
Before Id even finished my studies, I took a job at the hospital, grateful for night shifts that let me avoid home entirely.
After Rosies wedding, there was no escaping the growing tension with Mum. When Mrs. Allen, our nosy neighbour, once remarked, You do have lovely children, Natasha. Ben and Becca both! Pity your late husband isnt here to see them. Beccas grown up sosurely she cant be without a young man! Always busy, mind. She ought to think of starting her own life. Something about those words seemed to wound Mum, and so she threw me out.
I was left frantically packing my things, wondering where on earth to go. If I didnt have a place here, then where was I supposed to find one? I thought of ringing Rosie, but she was expecting her first child and juggling studiesshe didnt need my problems. I could barely cope with my own.
I took one last look round my room, grabbed Dads photo from the desk, shoved it in my bag and wiped away my tears. So what if this was goodbye? Id felt like a stranger here for ages.
In the kitchen, the telly blared as Mum banged about with pots. I nearly stepped into the hall but stopped. What could I possibly say to her? Enough had been said. Some things cant be forgiven. Not now.
It was already dark by the time I walked outside, shivering into my chunky scarf. Autumn had been late this year, but the chill was abrupt. Id put on the same thick scarf Rosie had given me for our last Christmas together, and my warmest coatI certainly wasnt going back for more clothes. The sting of Mums words pricked at my heart, but I pushed those thoughts aside and wandered towards the bus stop, rucksack in hand.
The street was nearly deserted, with just a stray dog and a pair of late-night ramblers for company. I sat on the bench, tucking my hands into my pockets.
The car that stopped nearby made me flinch, instinctively stepping back. But then I heard, Becca?
Adam! I almost cried with reliefit was Rosies big brother, the same one whod once helped me with algebra (and our fathers funeral). What are you doing here so late? Work?
Sort of. Actually the hospital! Yes, thats it. I have to get there.
Adam saw straight through me. Youre not telling me everything, Becca. Why are you with your bags? What happened?
To my shock, I spilled everythingabout Mum, Steve, and having nowhere to go.
Right. Hop in, Adam said. Normally so quiet, he was now all action. I got in, expecting to be dropped off at work.
We drove in silence through sleepy streets, easing the tension in my chest, so much so that I didnt notice we werent going towards the hospital.
Adam, where are we going? I said I needed the hospital.
Were you planning to sleep there? And what about tomorrow? You need somewhere to stay.
I dont know.
Well, I do. Just trust me.
He parked outside a block of neat flats, the kind with smart gates and rear gardensdefinitely not council. The security nodded us through, and Adam gestured toward the entrance.
We climbed to the third floor, and he rang a bell. It took a while before the door swung open. The tallest, broadest woman Id ever seen stood there, and her face instantly lit up.
Adam! Fancy showing up unannounced
Her eyes settled on me. Now, whos this? Oh, wait, I know you! Rosies friend, arent you? I remember you from the wedding. Come in, love, dont dawdle on the doorstep. Youre not a stranger here!
I hesitated only a second before stepping into warmth, marble floors, and twinkling chandeliers. As I marvelled at it all, Adam whispered something to her, got a nod in return, waved goodbye and left me in her care.
She saw me shivering and ushered me inside. Come along, coat off. Lets have some tea, and you can tell me why a girl as lovely as you is out on her own at this hour. Dont you have a home or a mother?
Not anymore I whispered. Suddenly, I couldnt hold it together and sank onto the hallway pouffe, sobbing as she enveloped me in a solid, maternal embrace.
Oh, sweetheart, dont cry. Heaven must have looked the other way, but itll come right, I promise! Lets have a proper cup of tea. Not forever, mind, but just enough to pause, catch your breath, and figure things out.
In her large, beautiful kitchen, I drank the strongest, bitterest tea of my life, somehow managing to keep sipping while she gently coaxed the story out of me.
Call me Sue. Thats what they called me when I was a slip of a thing, not unlike you. I grew up far from here, in an old village, surrounded by sisters and a brother. Our home was everythingour world, our place. I havent been back in many years. Thats its own pain, but not the worst.
Whats worse? I asked, surprising myself.
She sat heavily, hands on her knees, becoming almost a statue. The worst pain is knowing my parents, and my eldest sister, have no graves at all. I wasnt able to bury them.
But why?
She hesitated, Have you ever heard of a pogrom? God forbid you ever do. Its when strangers come and say you no longer belongthat your place here is gone. Thats what happened when I was very young. My father hid us children in a pantry with a secret door to the yard, pushing the heavy wardrobe across it. He was so strong that day, its frightening what love can do. Remember that, when you have children.
I listened, spellbound, as she described escaping with her surviving siblings, losing her home, and being taken in by distant relativesraising them all on her own.
That was the strength of others, not mine. Children, family, even strangers who helped. You see?
I nodded, feeling small.
Now, Ill share my strength with you. Your place is here with me, until I can hand you to a husband of your own. Ill teach you, just as I taught Rosie and my sisters. No loafing! she laughed, eyes twinkling. Worried, are you? Good. You should be!
She kept her word. Within two years, I could cook better than Rosie, who visited with wide-eyed admiration. Yours are even tastierwhats your secret, Becca?
Its all thanks to Sue. I dont know where Id be without her
Oh, stop it, Sue scolded. Praise me too much and Ill never get into heaven!
One day, though, Rosie couldnt ignore my unease.
Whats going on? she pressed, and I finally admitted, Mums ill.
How bad?
She hasnt long left, Rosie. She was in my wardI knew everything… My voice shrank. I havent been to see her. I cant.
Rosie stared at me. Becca, you dont want to regret this later. You wont be able to say sorry after shes gone.
I know. But every time I remember what she didkicking me out for that manthe thing is, Steve ran the moment she got sick, left both her and Ben. My voice cracked.
Rosie gasped, Wheres Ben now?
In foster care. They wouldnt give him to me. Ive got a job, but nowhere to livenowhere of my own. Even with my extra shifts, I cant afford a flat.
And your old home?
She had me taken off the lease. I need papers to get Ben back, but I havent got any. Im at my wits end, Rosie, I cant sleep for worrying about him.
If you cared so much, you wouldnt be sitting here, Rosie snapped. Come on. Lets go.
What?
To the hospital. If your mums not still there, shes at home. You dont need to make up with hershe needs to with you. But think about Ben! Nobody thought of you, did they? Was that any good for you?
Rosie, as always, was right. I did reconcile with Mum, not that it mattered by then; two days later, wrecked and frail, she finally asked my forgiveness, and I looked after her through her last weeks, running between work and council offices to get the docs to collect Ben. I kept the resentment buried, focusing instead on bringing my brother home.
At the end, sitting at Mums bedside, I didnt remember the night shed thrown me out. Instead, I remembered being five or six, my beautiful young Mum in her red spotted dress, feeding me sweet yellow cherries in the garden, all sunshine and warmth. And I realised I could let go: I forgive you, Mum
Sues words, so long ago, now made senselet resentment go, or itll consume you, keep you from anything bright. Hard, yes, but necessary.
A week later, holding Bens hand as we crossed the threshold of our new flat, he looked up at me and asked, Were home now? For good?
Yes, Ben. Were home. This I smiled, feeling it at last. This is our place.Ben grinned, dropping his bag on the shiny floor and dashing to the window. I watched as he pressed his nose against the glass, staring wide-eyed at the little park below, where chestnuts scattered the grass and shouts of children echoed up through the November air. For the first time since I could remember, my heart felt unburdened, as though a window had opened in my chest, letting something tender and hopeful in.
Sue arrived an hour later, carrying a basket crammed with bread and homemade cakes, Rosie trailing behind her, clutching a wilting bunch of flowers and a casserole that steamed up her glasses.
Well, well! Sue declared, setting her things on the counter with a mighty clatter. Are you ready to make a house a home, then? Because you know, the walls only start singing when theres laughterand the smell of baking!
Rosie darted over, hugging me tight before scooping up Ben, who giggled in honest delight. For a moment, we were a little family pieced together from old bonds, second chances, and stubborn hope. I saw the kindness of strangers reflected in the faces around mefamily chosen and found, not just given, and love as warm as the rise of morning bread.
Later, as dusk pooled in the corners of our new kitchen, Ben tugged the sleeve of my cardigan. Dandelion, he whispered, using the name only Dad and Rosie ever had, are you happy?
I knelt, brushing his hair from his eyes. Home isnt always where you start, Benny. Sometimes, you have to wander a long way to find your place. But nowmy throat caughtyes. I think Im finally where I belong.
Through the window, the street lights flickered on. I listened to the clatter of dishes and laughter from Rosie and Sue. The ache of the past lingered, softer than beforea shadow behind a closed door.
Ben leaned into me, and together we watched the first snowflake tumble gently down, landing on the world outsidea place, I realized, that might finally hold enough room for all our dreams.
