Warton

It feels a bit intimidating, standing in front of that beautiful English country-side cottage. The one where I grew up. I get that sweaty, nervous palm feeling. You know the one. I had hoped to stop and stare at the ghost of my childhood without having to meet the people who live there now. It’s always better to keep memories unoccupied by the people who live now where they did, less messy this way.

There is no car in the driveway. I am hoping this means that I can stare for as long as I like. A cool breeze on a medium warm day makes my skin shiver, I already had goosebumps on my skin, but the breeze manages to further that chill up my spine.

The front garden still gets partially drowned every time it rains, which is often in England. If I squint hard enough at the part of the lawn where the rabbit hutch used to be, I can almost, almost see it there.

I don’t want to go inside, and I absolutely do not want to look at the back garden, I won’t hop the fence, although I could. It’s the exact same one I used to climb as a child. We used to sit on top of it as it was opened and closed. Sometimes it was opened and closed for fun, but mostly for business.

A dog barking in the distance throws me back in time to the first dog that I remember having; his name was Brindle. He was a big brute of a dog with one of those ugly square heads that everyone else seems to find so disagreeable and ‘scary’. I loved that dog so much. I still miss him.

I walk down the street to where an alley leading into a... I’m not sure what you call it, it’s a large area at the back of a street. A block of concrete that the neighbourhood kids used to play in, “No balls allowed”, the sign that everyone ignored still hung there proudly. New faces filling the windows, new voices echo from the back gardens. I can see into my old back yard through the slotted fence. I don’t want to see it; I’m not sure why I’m here.

It’s a glorious back garden, so big and spacious. Mum and dad converted an old tractor yard, lots of space to convert for a fraction of the cost that it would’ve been to buy a garden like it. The climbing frame is gone now, the wendy house too. The bridge is still there with the little flower bed under it. It doesn’t grow my potatoes anymore, but I bet if you dug low enough you’d find the spoils of my gardening efforts. I don’t plan on digging anymore, I’ve seen enough of my childhood today. I will not picture anything else. I won’t see her in my mind. I will not feel the way I felt when I was little. Now I am grown, I am no longer a powerless little girl.

I feel wet stains rolling down my face, the ghost of the wendy house sits in the corner. I didn’t want to come back here. I didn’t. My fingers feel red and scratched as I cling to the rough wooden fence. If I let go, I may not be able to continue standing.

I close my eyes and still my breathing, just like the therapist told me. Count back from ten and walk away.

Ten. It’s been hours. My sister smuggles me water through the window and a snack. She is caught and punished.

Nine. I have to go; I’m going to wet myself. I scream and yell and yell, and finally, she drags me around the back of the house. I’m too scared to pee as I squat on the floor beside the house. I glance over to the fence where my friends watch me through the bars as I watch myself now. Everyone is going to watch me pee in the back garden. I need to go too much. She is mouthing off ‘all that fuss, and you don’t even have to go! Well, hurry up then, go on.’ I feel the hot liquid splash on my feet as I try not to start crying. My wrist hurts as she pulls me up and shoves me back into the shed.

Eight. ‘Hang her upside down she’s been a right little brat, yes just like that. Sure keep whatever comes out of her pockets, she doesn’t deserve her allowance this month. Yes, grab her by the ankles, shake her a little bit, might make more fall out of her pockets.’

Seven. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you. You think this is bad just wait to see if you tell anyone. It won’t just be you but your siblings as well, I’ll hurt you all.”

Six. “Your brother is smarter, and your sister is prettier... you’re just sort of worthless, and in the middle nothing. I bet your parents hate you. I bet I would be doing them a favour if I killed you

Five. I am in the public swimming pool, paddling water and playing with my siblings. He gets into the pool, he begins to splash around, and for a moment I forget who he really is. He pushes my head underwater “Let’s see how long you can hold your breath for...” I scream and kick under the water. “Oh, Beth, you can’t really swim very well. Sit on the side for the rest of the time we are here. We can’t be worried about you drowning while we are trying to have fun.”

Four. The princess bed, my parents, bought me is my favourite thing. I look up at the four posts and feel worthy. She comes to me that night. “You’re worthless. You’re nothing. You’re nothing. You’d be better off dead!” My fingers dig into the covers as hers hurt me other places.

Three.

Two.

One.

I stand and walk away, beaten and bruised like the ghost of this house. I didn’t want to go back.