In our family, there was never a quiet moment at home.
I hate him! Hes not my dad! He can go straight out, Emily shouted at her stepdad, furious. I couldnt see why they were at odds why not just get along? I had no idea what was really bubbling under the surface.
Emily had a younger halfsister, Lucy, the daughter of her mum and the stepdad. From the outside it looked like the stepdad treated both girls the same, but that was just my perspective. In truth, Emily never rushed home after school. She counted the minutes until her biggest enemy the loathsome stepdad would leave for work. If, God forbid, her calculation was wrong and he was still there, Emily would quietly slip out, making a clean escape.
She would whisper to me, Stay in my room, Kate, and then lock herself in the bathroom, waiting for him to go. The moment he shut the door behind him, shed burst out of her selfimposed hideaway, sighing with relief. Finally! Kate, youre lucky to have your real dad at home. Me? Im stuck here. Its all so sad, shed say, taking a deep breath. Come on, lets have lunch in the kitchen.
Emilys mum was a topnotch housewife. Meals were practically a religion in that house breakfast, lunch, tea, dinner, all on the clock, measured in calories and vitamins. Whenever I dropped by, there was always a steaming hot meal waiting. Pots and pans were draped with teatowels, ready for the next round of diners.
I also recall how Emily used to pick on Lucy, who was ten years younger. Shed tease, mock, even fight with her. Years later those two would become inseparable, like water and oil, only to mix perfectly.
Emily eventually married, had a daughter, and later the whole family except the stepdad moved permanently to Australia. Twelve years on, Emily had another little girl. Lucy stayed single, but she helped Emily raise the two daughters, and their little clan grew tighter in that faraway land. Emily kept writing to her real dad until he passed away; he had a second wife, and Emily was his only child.
Even though I grew up with both my mum and dad, most of my friends were brought up without a father. Back then I didnt understand their grudges against stepparents, but their lives werent any easier.
Sophies mum and stepdad were hardcore drinkers. Sophie was embarrassed by them and never invited anyone over, knowing her stepdad would bark and her mum would back him up with a heavyhanded slap. After she turned fifteen, Sophie could stand up for herself, and they left her alone.
Kate, youre invited to my birthday, Sophie told me, bright as ever.
Your place? Im a bit nervous will your stepdad kick us out?
Let him try! Im done with his rule. My real dad gave me his address hes my protection now. He lives nearby, so come over.
On Sophies sixteenth birthday I knocked on the door with a little present. She opened it, all dressed up, and said, Come in, love! Have a seat. Her mum and stepdad were standing by the table. I greeted them cautiously; they nodded in unison.
The birthday spread was laid out on a faded vinyl mat: a big bowl of shepherds pie, sliced bread on a plate, lemonade in tumblers topped with shortbread biscuits. It was all the special food Sophie could muster. I thought of my own birthday, when my mum would spend the whole day at the stove, whipping up roasts, pies, salads, fish, cake, juice, and compote. Every household has its own traditions, after all.
I ate the shepherds pie with a piece of bread, washed it down with lemonade, and set the shortbread aside it crumbled too much and I didnt want to mess up the tablecloth. Sophies mum and stepdad just stood there, watching us. In the corner, on a bed, lay Sophies grandmother.
Zoe, dont drink! Youll forget to look after me, she warned.
Sophie blushed, Grandma, dont worry, Mum isnt drinking. We only have lemonade, no booze. The old lady turned her face to the wall and muttered a quiet thankyou.
We said our goodbyes and left quickly we were still young, with plenty of fun ahead, not meant to sit with the elderly.
Within a year Sophie lost her mum, stepdad, and grandmother. By twentyfive she was on her own, never married, no kids. Shed had suitors, even my exhusband showed up among them, but nothing stuck. Sophie even tried to take me in for a while, but that didnt work out either her temperament just wasnt easygoing.
I was also close with Hannah. We were fourteen, and Hannah lived with her older sister Grace, who had just turned eighteen. Grace seemed all grownup and unapproachable strict, sensible, and responsible. Their mum visited weekly, bringing groceries and cooking, while she lived with her first husband. Grace was from that first marriage, Hannah from the second. After a couple of years with the second husband, Hannahs mum went back to her first husband, and I envied Hannahs freedom. Her mum seemed forever trying to make amends with her first husband, while Grace juggled a herd of boyfriends. Hannah was pretty much on her own.
Grace would later marry, have a daughter, and then her husband would be sent to prison for a long stretch. Hannah would fall into heavy drinking. When she was found dead in her flat, it was Grace who discovered her, at the age of fortytwo.
Then there was Claire, the new girl in our Year 10 class. I clicked with her straight away she was gorgeous, with a trim figure and a singing voice that could melt hearts. The boys in school drooled over Claire, but she had a boyfriend, James. He would pull up after lessons in his car, whisk his goddess away to somewhere unknown.
Claires father died before she turned ten. She wasnt great at school, but she sang beautifully. She and James formed a little band and performed at school discos. When James was called up for national service, Claire escorted him to the station, tears streaming, but didnt wait around. She later gave birth to a son with an unknown father, living with her mum.
James returned from the army, forgave his goddess, and asked her to come back, but Claire shut him down: Youll spend the rest of your life blaming me for everything. Id rather be on my own.
When her son grew up, Claire planned to marry a farmer and move out to the countryside.
All these friends existed at the same time, yet they never got along with each other they could barely stand the sight of one another.
Now I keep in occasional touch with Emily, the one friend Ive known since we were kids. She writes that shell do anything to keep her family together:
I dont want my daughters to suffer what I went through living with a stepdad. If theres any conflict, its better with my real dad than with a strangers uncle. Blood ties will eventually work themselves out. The stepdad is a scar Ill carry forever.
Sometimes Emily and I reminisce about our school mischiefs and have a good laugh. The traces of Sophie and Claire have faded, but the memories linger.
