My Secret Sister: Jenny Lucas and Helen Edwards' Family Story by Helen Edwards, Jenny Lee Smith Page B
Authors: Helen Edwards, Jenny Lee Smith
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laughter – it put him in a good mood all evening. I had nightmares for weeks.
Another day, when I was sitting on the floor in the living room with my sketch-pad and pencils, drawing, my father leaned across to look. ‘Give that to me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to draw your portrait, so sit still.’
I sat as still as I could for a long time. I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t. I hardly dared to breathe. It seemed like for ever.
Finally he stopped, triumphant. ‘There you are. That’s you!’ He passed the sketch-pad over to me and I took it and looked, unable to hide my dismay. The drawing that was meant to be me was a picture of a monster with huge buck teeth and protruding eyes, a fat, spot-strewn face and hair like wild string. I stared at this horrific image.
‘Can’t you take a joke?’ he guffawed.
Much as he expected to be in absolute control of everything and everyone, my father met his match from an unexpected source one afternoon. He always had unreliable cars, and his latest one needed a lot of work, so he spent all his spare time on it. Every time we looked out of the window, all we could see was his feet sticking out from underneath the car.
The nearby pig farm had a huge and vicious boar that often escaped and rampaged through the village. Tommy was working under the car as usual when this boar broke free and came down our street. It stopped still and stared when it noticed my father’s feet. Oblivious, Tommy slid out and to his surprise came face to jowls with this slobbering monster. The boar snorted and pawed the ground, then squared up to charge. My father squealed and shot back under the car. The boar stood there waiting for him to emerge again, while my mother and I watched from the window, too scared to do anything. We didn’t have a phone, so couldn’t raise the alarm, and it happened to be a quiet day in the village when nobody came by, so Tommy was trapped under the car for several hours until the boar was recaptured and returned to the piggery.
It was quite a revelation to me to see my father dominated by a mere animal.
At about this time, my parents received a letter to say polio vaccinations were now available and would be carried out in my school. All parents received the note, requesting a signature of consent for their child to have the vaccine. This started a huge row in our house. Predictably, my parents disagreed. My mother wanted me to be vaccinated. My father was adamant that I should not be.
‘It’s a government plot,’ he said. ‘Children’s lives are cheap to experiment on. It’s never been done before, so it’s bound to be dangerous.’ There was an angry exchange, their voices rising in turn.
‘She’s mine,’ protested my mother. ‘I want her to have it.’
‘And I don’t.’
This accelerated throughout the evening, until Tommy tired of it and my mother eventually got her own way.
‘Well, just do as you like,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t care.’
With the consent form signed, I returned it to school and was vaccinated as arranged.
The next day I woke up with a temperature of 104 and the doctor was called out. He checked me over with a puzzled expression. He prodded and poked me, then stood back and scratched his head. ‘She’s clearly ill . . . from an indeterminate cause.’ I didn’t understand that. He gave instructions and said he would come back the next morning.
My mother, for once, followed his orders and put a wet cloth across my forehead in a vain attempt to cool me down. However, muffled up with layers of blankets, I sank into a delirium. I was in the midst of a weird scenario of green and brown snakes that crawled up my walls and across the ceiling to the light fitting, right above my bed. As the snakes coiled down the light fitting and reached out their snapping fangs towards me, monsters broke through my wallpaper and spoke in distant, hushed voices, words I couldn’t quite hear.
When I came to later in the day, confused, my
Another day, when I was sitting on the floor in the living room with my sketch-pad and pencils, drawing, my father leaned across to look. ‘Give that to me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to draw your portrait, so sit still.’
I sat as still as I could for a long time. I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t. I hardly dared to breathe. It seemed like for ever.
Finally he stopped, triumphant. ‘There you are. That’s you!’ He passed the sketch-pad over to me and I took it and looked, unable to hide my dismay. The drawing that was meant to be me was a picture of a monster with huge buck teeth and protruding eyes, a fat, spot-strewn face and hair like wild string. I stared at this horrific image.
‘Can’t you take a joke?’ he guffawed.
Much as he expected to be in absolute control of everything and everyone, my father met his match from an unexpected source one afternoon. He always had unreliable cars, and his latest one needed a lot of work, so he spent all his spare time on it. Every time we looked out of the window, all we could see was his feet sticking out from underneath the car.
The nearby pig farm had a huge and vicious boar that often escaped and rampaged through the village. Tommy was working under the car as usual when this boar broke free and came down our street. It stopped still and stared when it noticed my father’s feet. Oblivious, Tommy slid out and to his surprise came face to jowls with this slobbering monster. The boar snorted and pawed the ground, then squared up to charge. My father squealed and shot back under the car. The boar stood there waiting for him to emerge again, while my mother and I watched from the window, too scared to do anything. We didn’t have a phone, so couldn’t raise the alarm, and it happened to be a quiet day in the village when nobody came by, so Tommy was trapped under the car for several hours until the boar was recaptured and returned to the piggery.
It was quite a revelation to me to see my father dominated by a mere animal.
At about this time, my parents received a letter to say polio vaccinations were now available and would be carried out in my school. All parents received the note, requesting a signature of consent for their child to have the vaccine. This started a huge row in our house. Predictably, my parents disagreed. My mother wanted me to be vaccinated. My father was adamant that I should not be.
‘It’s a government plot,’ he said. ‘Children’s lives are cheap to experiment on. It’s never been done before, so it’s bound to be dangerous.’ There was an angry exchange, their voices rising in turn.
‘She’s mine,’ protested my mother. ‘I want her to have it.’
‘And I don’t.’
This accelerated throughout the evening, until Tommy tired of it and my mother eventually got her own way.
‘Well, just do as you like,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t care.’
With the consent form signed, I returned it to school and was vaccinated as arranged.
The next day I woke up with a temperature of 104 and the doctor was called out. He checked me over with a puzzled expression. He prodded and poked me, then stood back and scratched his head. ‘She’s clearly ill . . . from an indeterminate cause.’ I didn’t understand that. He gave instructions and said he would come back the next morning.
My mother, for once, followed his orders and put a wet cloth across my forehead in a vain attempt to cool me down. However, muffled up with layers of blankets, I sank into a delirium. I was in the midst of a weird scenario of green and brown snakes that crawled up my walls and across the ceiling to the light fitting, right above my bed. As the snakes coiled down the light fitting and reached out their snapping fangs towards me, monsters broke through my wallpaper and spoke in distant, hushed voices, words I couldn’t quite hear.
When I came to later in the day, confused, my
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