I was hysterical and couldn’t get my tale out until a nice police woman took us to a private room, got me tea and drinks for the kids. I calmed down and told her what had happened. She excused herself and popped out the door for a few minutes then returned to me. A couple of minutes later I heard two sets of sirens on the road outside. That was three years ago.
Clive was arrested as soon as he came round from the surgery anaesthetics. He was eventually sent down for ten years, heavily scarred. I heard later that he had been disfigured even more when one of his fellow inmates threw a pan of boiling water into his face.
But I was left with heavy outstanding bills. I couldn’t make ends meet, even with my cash-in-hand job, and starved myself so the kids could eat. About two years after his father was arrested, Tom also began to worry me as he became involved in the fringes of the local gangs but there was little I could do to persuade him to take up a decent hobby or sport, anything to keep him off the streets.
Then one day I woke up in hospital with drips going into my arm. A passing nurse smiled when she saw I was awake, she turned to my bed and explained how I came to be there. It seems I had collapsed over my trolley in Tesco’s and they had called an ambulance. My next visitor, soon after, was the doctor. He gave me a severe lecture about starving myself to death. “And I do mean to death, Ms Jones,” he warned. “You have no reserves. If you go on like this you’ll kill yourself.” Giving me a sharp look, he left.
A young slip of a girl walked up. She showed me her ID and introduced herself as Louise, from Social Services. Tom and Melanie (now 17 and 14) were with some lovely foster parents, she told me, and they would be coming to see me this afternoon. She had been in touch with Brian, my brother and named next-of-kin, and he would be here tomorrow.
True to Louise’s word, a ‘motherly’ woman brought Tom and Mel to my bedside that afternoon and introduced herself when the kids had calmed down again. Pat seemed really nice and she assured me the children had not fretted too much. Pat and her husband had a big house in a village a few miles outside the city. She left me and the kids together for a while.
They both agreed that Pat was OK and her house had a lovely big garden and they had a dog called Lady who licked them all over and a pony called Cherry that lived in the field and some rabbits and they were OK there but when was I coming home?
“Soon,” I promised them. “I have to stay here for a few days but not for long.” For the next four days, Pat brought Tom and Mel to see me each afternoon and they seemed happy enough.
Brian arrived as promised and was shocked to see my emaciated appearance. As he and his wife, Trish, lived 300 miles away we hadn’t seen each other for two years and although we had kept in touch, I had not told him how bad life was for me. I was close to tears as he got me to tell him my problems. He sat on the bed and held me close as I sobbed my tale of woes into his shoulder.