Eeny Meeny

28

It’s funny the things you remember, isn’t it? Why does that reindeer stick in my mind? He was pretty crummy even for that time, a mangy felt reindeer with whacked-out eyes. He looked as if he was dead. But I couldn’t stop staring at him as we waited in the long queue. Perhaps I’m drawn to hopelessness. Or maybe not. You can overanalyse these things.

It was Xmas and for once life was ok. Dad had done a flit – did he have another family to be with at Christmas? I never found out – so it was just the girls at home. Mum was drinking, but I’d worked out a plan to keep her from getting too wasted. To save her legs, I’d offer to get the booze myself. I’d hop down to the corner shop, pick up a few cans, but get something solid too. Bread, crisps, whatever. When I got back I’d sit with Mum whilst she drank. I think she felt a bit awkward drinking in front of me and without Dad there to egg her on she cut back on the booze little by little, until she was hardly drinking at all. I was never close to her, but we were ok that Christmas. Which is why she took us to the shopping mall.

Muzak, cheap decorations and the smell of fear. As far as the eye could see parents were panicking, boxed into a corner by a festival that had come round too quickly yet again. Our shopping list was short – very short – but it still took a long time. Making sure the security guard in BHS was otherwise engaged before Mum stuffed clothes and tacky costume jewellery up our jumpers. Our ‘treat’ was to go and see Santa afterwards. Given that the guy who did it was a teacher at the local Catholic school, the treat was probably all his.

I’ve got such a vivid memory of his face. He sat me on his knee and, with his best yo ho ho, asked me what I wanted most of all for Christmas. I smiled, looked him in the eye and said, ‘I’d like my dad to die.’

We left rather quickly after that. Santa gossiping with the appalled mothers – bitches who loved throwing insults at white trash like us. As we hurried past, I gave that mangy reindeer a belting right hook. Didn’t get to see the damage – we were out of the door before Security could catch us.

I’d expected Mum to hit me or at least shout. But she didn’t. She just wept. Sat down at the bus shelter and wept. Pity really – it’s one of my happiest memories.