This really is beyond weird. To theonlooker I imagine it’d look like a happy scene; mother and father singingHappy Birthday lovingly to their son, ready to tuck into a ‘cake’ to celebrate,but the reality was a far cry. He goes for it, belting the song out; the whiskyclearly starting to take effect along with the heady anticipation he isexperiencing over his latest punishment. Mother’s contribution is barelyaudible and I feel my heart breaking for her as she knows her fate at the endof the song.
When it’s over hesignals for us to begin and I find I have no appetite; feeling yet again sickto my stomach so I can only imagine the horrors mother is enduring. I’m awareof movement to my left and realise she’s picked up her fork. I am momentarilyfrozen, unable to move a muscle; gripped by this sickening scene. He doesn’tmiss a beat. “What are you waiting for, son, eat up!” Reluctantly I too raisemy fork. The combination of smells in the room from the chocolate and cow dungis a vile cocktail. There is a momentary pause and silence before the nextsound – mother’s fork being placed back down on the table and she barelywhispers, “I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t do it.”
I expect to hear him roar and confront her,but he goes eerily silent as he contemplates his next move.
“I’ll give you one more chance, eat up,Mary – now!”
I’m thrown as mother turns her gazetowards him, looking him in the face and replies, “I’m sorry Bert, I can’t doit.” He will lose it now; we are not allowed to give him eye contact. What wasshe thinking?
He blows his top. He sends his glassflying across the table, the contents pouring everywhere, and it smashes intolittle pieces as it makes contact with the edge of the sink. Jess lets out awhimper and I said a silent prayer that it was over the noise and not a littleshard getting into her paw or her face. He is over at her chair in a flash. “OKyou insolent bitch, I’ll teach you a lesson.” He grabs the back of her head andpushes it downwards with force onto the steaming muck. “Eat it up now, bitch!”I want to lunge at him for what he has put her through. He transitions againfrom fury to giddy excitement, “That’s it, little piggy! Oink oink! Eat up,that’s a good girl.” He momentarily turns his attention away from her and lookstowards me. “Well what are you waiting for, boy? Your mother is tucking rightin so get that muffin into you.”
I can hear all sorts of strained mufflednoises coming from mother as she battles to catch a breath. I panic – is hegoing to let her come up for air? “Please,” I hear myself say. “Please Sir, lether breathe.” It takes him some time to register I’ve spoken; his focus solelyback on torturing mother and when he does, he’s clearly happy to continue to lether suffer.
“Aww isn’t that lovely, Mary, the lad isfull of concern for you; haven’t you done a good job of raising him.” The panicI felt earlier has now escalated beyond anything I have ever experienced beforeas I see she’s now thumping the palms of her hands on the table. Fortunately,the noise of this shakes his reverie and he loosens his grip on the back of herhead. Like a drown victim bursting through the surface of the water to get air,her head whips up at break-neck speed and a huge, panicked gasp ensues as shegets that blessed oxygen into her lungs.
I realise I am off my seat and need tore-position myself in my chair before he notices but I’m unable to as my legsare rooted to the spot like two solid oak trees. My body is rendered motionlessas I take in the horrific scene before me. Mother is still eagerly gasping forair; this is her priority. Her survival instinct having kicked in. Dealing withthe mess and the degradation of what he’s done to her obviously secondary atthis point. I, however, am simply left with this vision of my beautiful motherlooking like something from a horror movie, bits of cow dung plastered all overher face and hair; the unrelenting stench doing nothing to quell the unease inmy stomach. I needn’t worry about being unable to take my place back at thetable for mother has grabbed his attention again. Obviously now that her lungshave recovered somewhat, the rest of her bodily functions have taken over andwith an unimaginable force she expels everything in her stomach, the projectilevomit bursting forth with such ferocity, some of it makes contact with the wallopposite us. How is he going to react to this? That’s both of us now been sick,this is not going to go down well.
With all this going on, I hadn’t been awareof James and Caroline’s presence in the room. James like myself is aghast atthe spectacle, seeing mother like that covered in a mixture of excrement andvomit. He is ashen and momentarily unable to utter a word (I know how hefeels). Then, “No, no, no!”
“Shhhh,” I attempt to silence him, butCaroline is straight in there.
“You’ve taken it too far, you brute,enough!”
“OK Caroline, I know, sweetheart, buthush, please!” I sit back down at the table, now praying for an end in sight.
“What’s that? What’s going on and what isall the mumbling about?”
I speak on behalf of us all, not wantingmy siblings to jeopardise things any further. “Nothing Sir, sorry Sir.” Itseems enough to pacify him as he turns back towards mother.
“You really are a stinking bitch, Mary,look at the state of you! No-one in their right mind would want you, what was Ithinking? Not even good for one thing if I’m honest but let’s spare yourblushes and not
