– What on earth are you talking about? A care home? Absolutely not! Im not leaving my own house! Elizabeths father flung a mug at her, aiming square for her head. She dodged, all too used to his outbursts.
Clearly, things couldnt go on like this. Sooner or later, hed figure out some way to really hurt her, and shed never see it coming. Even as she sorted the paperwork to get her dad into a care home, Elizabeth was haunted by guilt. But honestly, after the way hed always treated her, she was doing more than he ever deserved.
Her dad kicked up a storm the morning they put him in the car, shouting, fighting, cursing everyone who played a part in moving him out of his precious house.
Liz stood at the window, watching the car disappear. Shed seen a moment just like this once before. Only that time, shed been a little girl, terrified of what life would turn out like.
Elizabeth was an only child. Her mum never dared have another, not with her husband making life a living hell for both of them.
Her dad John Smith was already well into his forties when Liz was born. Hed married purely for his career. Love, or the desire for a family, never featured in his plans. He never loved anyone more than himself. To look the part of the perfect family man, hed needed a wife, so he picked a sweet, young teaching student named Mary. Her parents both worked at the local factory and were far lower down the social ladder than John. That made it easier he was a prize for Marys family, even if no one ever stopped to ask what Mary herself wanted.
They had a lavish wedding, but Marys parents weren’t invited far too common folk, apparently.
Once she married, Mary moved into John’s detached house, and he hired someone to school her in proper etiquette. She had to learn to keep quiet and not to see things she wasnt supposed to.
– How was your day? John would ask as he dropped into his armchair after work.
– All fine. I picked up table manners and started on my English lessons, Mary would reply, always careful not to give him anything to complain about.
– And thats it? What about the house? Who did that?
– I did. I planned the weeks meals with the cook, picked up the shopping and tidied up as well.
– Well, not bad for today, hed mutter. But make sure your hands are always clean, and look tidy yourself. Dont walk about like a farmers wife. If you behave, maybe Ill get you a driver and a cleaner. But not yet. You havent earned it.
No matter how hard Mary tried, the peaceful days never lasted. Mostly, hed come home late, angry and exhausted, and Mary was the easiest target. The staff would never answer back theyd just quit and gossip. Mary had no one to run to, no one to confide in, and nowhere else to go.
John first raised his hand to Mary only a month after their wedding. Not for any particular reason just to show her who’s boss and what might happen if she didnt toe the line.
The beatings came more and more often. He was careful never a bruise where someone might notice, nothing that would give her a limp, nothing suspicious. Mary learned to hide the bruises with her clothes, smiling brightly for the parade of friends and colleagues who came to dinner.
After a year, people started to make snide remarks about their empty, childless household.
– John, youre a strapping lad! How come your young wife isnt expecting? Which one of you is the faulty part? Get her to the doctor you shouldnt be wasting your time with a dud.
– Were not planning kids just yet, John would say flatly. Marys still finishing her course.
– Finish it? What for? Shell be a wife and mum, thats all she needs to know! Get her to drop out and send her to the GP. My missus knows someone good. And anyway, kids arent optional! Why did you even get married otherwise? Youre meant to set an example!
Thats when Marys life became a round of appointments and tests. John even eased up on the violence just in case the doctors noticed anything.
After months of endless checkups, it turned out Mary was perfectly healthy. All signs pointed at John being the problem, which one brave doctor gently suggested.
– Me? You must be joking. I could make a couple of calls and youd be out in the sticks treating sheep and cows, John snapped.
– Even if you sack me, your problem wont go away, the doctor replied, calmly, as if he dealt with angry men like John every week.
– So what am I supposed to do then?
– Well, start by getting checked yourself.
A few weeks later, after all the appointments were over, the verdict was in. Johns chances of being a dad were slim at best. All he could do was hope for a miracle.
He was furious between the whispers at work and seeing his young wife, lively and beautiful, he felt the pressure from all sides. Taking things out on Mary no longer got a reaction: shed stopped crying, stopped even flinching, just stood there cold and still, like a statue.
Bored by home life, John found himself a mistress, which kept him distracted for a while.
Two and a half years later, the miracle happened. Mary was pregnant, and, bang on time, gave birth to a little girl Liz, Johns spitting image. But he never grew attached. Liz was raised by her mum and the nanny. John could go weeks without even seeing her, and never missed the chance.
As Liz got older, Johns patience for his “disobedient child” wore thinner. The first time he hit her, she was five having a tantrum just as he walked in from a rough day at work. Without a thought, he chucked her across the room. She slammed into the wall and froze, too scared to even cry, while John just switched on the telly.
Liz never forgot that first lesson. She did everything to stay out of his way, but that didnt stop him. Sometimes hed slap her, call her names even in front of guests. With age came influence; John no longer needed the appearance of a perfect family. Hed openly mock Liz when people visited, taking pleasure in her tears.
– Mr Smith, I hear your Lizzies quite the violinist! Will she play us a tune?
– Violinist? She barely knows which way round to hold the thing! If you’re desperate, ask her, but dont say I didnt warn you. Liz! Go get your fiddle and play for our guests!
Red with shame, Liz would collect her violin. Playing in front of people terrified her, but the thought of making her father angry was far worse.
Liz carried that performance fear for the rest of her life. The chance of a promising musicans career faded to nothing. After she finished music school, she never touched the violin again.
Still, she didnt realise other families were different. Shed see pictures of happy, laughing families in books, and wonder why shed drawn such a short straw in life.
Her mum wasnt much of a comfort either. She couldnt bring herself to love a child fathered by a tyrant. When Liz was thirteen, her mum died in a car accident or at least, that was the official story. Liz was never told the truth. She shut herself off even more after that.
She let her father pick her university course one of the last decisions he made for her. Work had consumed him by then. By the time Liz finished her degree, hed lost everything: his status, his money most of it squandered covering up the fallout from his years in office. He managed to hush up the scandals and quietly retire to a cottage in the countryside. Liz never visited. There was simply nothing left to discuss. She couldnt stomach his rudeness any more.
Living alone, the poison of isolation ate away at him. Neighbours started phoning Liz, warning her her dad was acting more and more unstable. She finally faced the difficult choice: move him in with her.
With his daughter to torment, John felt livelier again. Daily rows, shouting, smashing crockery, throwing belongings around the flat. Liz tried keeping him confined to one room, with a lock on the door. When even that didnt help and dementia signs started showing, she had no choice but to look into care homes.
Shed never built a family of her own. Timid and battered by her upbringing, she shied away from people and kept her distance at work. When it came to putting her father in a nursing home, the guilt nearly crushed her.
But having him at home could have put her in real danger, and the doctors confirmed that dementia had set in. He no longer knew what he was doing but his usual nastiness and hatred for his daughter remained, even after he stopped recognising her.
Liz visited every care home she could find in town, searching for the best one, but the decent ones cost a fortune. She had to hand over most of her salary and take extra hours, barely scraping by.
For days after her dad left, Liz wandered around in a daze. She remembered another time she and her mum had packed up and tried to leave him. That had been Marys only attempt to break free. John brought them back within days. Not long after, Lizs mum was dead.
Even so, every time Liz visited her dad, she found herself crying with guilt and pity as though these were the only feelings her parents had ever managed to teach her.
On top of everything else, Liz started to feel her own health beginning to crumble, worn out by it all.
