So, following the exit of my brothers into the big wide world, the choice was made to go and see if I could live in foster care again, at the age of 14, still searching for a place to feel like home.
I didn’t move far, you could see my old bedroom window from my new one and that was a comfort, I wasn’t far away if I needed anything, and I could still visit, right?
They seemed nice enough. My foster mother worked as a teaching assistant in a local school, (not one I attended thankfully) She was a small lady, but plump and cuddly too, My foster father worked as a fabricator welder and was tall and thin in comparison.
He was really proud of his work though, and every time we went past the local sporting arena he would retell the tale of how he made the gates and how he had engraved his name on them somewhere.
They had 3 grown-up children, a daughter who worked in the local toy shop but who had left home, She had moved out to buy a house with her partner, a little fixer-upper, which she loved. Their house was a little bare but they were looking forward to building the dream together.
The eldest son worked for Sainsbury’s and his bedroom was opposite mine, he was rarely home though, he had a busy social life too. He would sometimes let me in to see his cherished pets, his 2 lizards.
The youngest was ever so clever. He’d show me a calculator that seemed to speak another language and he understood it perfectly. He was most certainly going places, he was easy to speak to, we got on okay, no issues with him at all.
To cement my place in the house I was allowed to pick out new decor for my bedroom and furniture to go in it, I remember going to the local mfi store and looking at all the options, I chose matching furniture, I had a pale grey midi sleeper with a little desk that pulled out from underneath, a matching wardrobe too, I picked out wallpaper to compliment it and pale greyish lilac paint to finish it off. I even got to help my foster father put it all together. It was perfect.
I was still at the mainstream high school at this point, I don’t mind the trek, I handled bus travel just fine and I enjoyed my freedom greatly. In earned my pocket money doing an early morning paper round, but I really didn’t enjoy the early 5am starts before school so the younger foster brother talked me into taking over his round, it was about 400 papers, and what felt like 15 miles of walking, but it only meant delivering for one day of the week so that was much better.
There was just one problem. I had to run past the house of one of my brother’s mates. He was about 17 at the time, really into motorbikes and always had a gaggle of mates hanging around with him, all fiddling about with their machines and trying to look cool, and then there was me. Flushing crimson from embarrassment and laden for my maiden voyage, a day glow trolley filled to the brim with papers and two day glo sacks I had to carry slung over each side of me with the straps crossing over my chest, I looked like a psychedelic donkey.
Running the gauntlet past my brother’s friends was something that always made me flush bright red, they took the mick every single time and the only time I ever got by unscathed was on the odd time it was raining, but I’d rather the taunts to the rain if I was completely honest.
Around this time I was still attending youth club, my best friend and I also hung out with another lad that I briefly dated but he was a little bit weird. He was really into his tarot cards and looked like he wouldn’t be out of place on the film set of the vampire film The Lost Boys.
He kept going on about this dead person he was claiming to speak to as if he had conjured up some ancient soul, till the day I pointed out that Leo Sayers was still very much alive and kicking and he must have gotten his psychic connections in a twist!
Life had a familiar routine to it though, school in the week, my delivery round, dodging the gauntlet of my brothers mates and youth club to hang out with my 2 best friends of the time, Saturdays would be the day my foster mother would take me into town, it had the same flavour every week, we would walk down to the local bus stop, catch the bus into town, get something to eat and look at the shops, and then down to Sainsbury’s to do a massive food shop and then my foster father would pick us up like clockwork every time, it was familiar. Predictable. Safe.
Only the older I got the more freedom I wanted, I may have been around 13/14 at the time but I felt so much older, wiser, and street smart than my years and I started to rebel against the tightening of rules that seemed to only serve to contain me and keep me locked in a cage, not literally, but I really felt like I was being kept in against my will. So I started staying out long after curfew, coming home when they were at work, it just seemed the easiest way to dodge yet another argument about my schooling and my general life and what I was doing with it.
On one of these particular days I was home in the daytime, all by myself, imagining this was my own home and just enjoying the peace and enjoying the freedom to be by myself, it was midweek and my favourite time to be there because weekends also meant family tv night, and I really didn’t want to sit and watch animal porn with two people in their fifties.
This day in particular the sun was shining, the patio doors open to let the sunshine radiate through the house, welcoming the summer in. I decided I’d get some lunch and have a lazy afternoon, I grabbed some noodles and cooked them just the way I liked them, just the toast to go.
Then came the noise of the cat. See my foster parents had the biggest arsehole of a cat I’ve ever met. It looked all cute and fluffy, it would stretch out as if to invite you to go give it some fuss and tickle its tummy, but the dam thing was part cat, part wolverine I’m sure, because it would entice you in with cute and fluff and if you even dared reach towards it it would swipe at you and hiss, the thing left many a battle mark in me from my few attempts at trying to befriend it.
So there it was, meowing at the front door to go out, I didn’t want it to pee on the floor or worse, so I let the cat out, still a lovely sunny day, I stepped outside for a moment to soak it in and then next thing I heard was the sound of the front door slamming immediately behind me.
I panicked. My front door key was in the house, no way to get round the back, this was when mobiles were very much in their infancy and I didn’t have one, the local phone box was some distance from the house and I had no change, but worst of all, it was mid day. I was supposed to be at school. So I sat on the wall debating what to do next when I was suddenly shaken from my daydream.
Through the kitchen window all of a sudden I just seen yellow and orange flames licking at the kitchen window and engulfing the window in seconds, before I knew it the fire had spread to the rest of the kitchen and black smoke started to force its way out of the venting and in sheer panic I ran down to the kids home to get them to ring the fire brigade, who swiftly arrived to put the inferno out.
I felt so bad about it. There I was at home when I was meant to be at school, and I thought I was grown up enough to handle making a meal by myself, I really didn’t understand why they were so upset, see they were always talking about how they’d like to rip the kitchen out and get a new one, this gave them the perfect opportunity to do just that!
Only they absolutely didn’t see it the same way, they packed my stuff and said I was never to come back, I handed in my key and I left. I never spoke to any of them again.
All I knew is that it just didn’t matter. Whether I tried my hardest or not, I felt like nothing I did was ever right. Clearly they weren’t going to make me into another carbon copy of their creation, I’d never be as good as their kids. They were more worried about 2 stupid lizards to care if I was okay.
See I’d spent a lifetime feeling like I was the embodiment of the scene in The Muppet’s Christmas Carol, the one where he’s outside the house in the cold snow in the dark, watching the family all happily enjoying their meal together all laughing and happy, but I always seemed to end up the one left out in the cold.
So a few more temporary placements later, the decision was made. Back into a Children’s Home.
Only this one was different.
This one was in preparation to start life post-16.. Out there on my own.
Missed a bit?
← Part Seven – Finally Reunited With My Brothers
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Unwearing the Mercury 