The day my father left, I had to fetch the police. I had no choice to be honest. My parents were having another blazing row and I'd simply had enough. Both had gotten violent with each other in the past and I was at breaking point. I was 11 years old and constantly being brought into their fights, sometimes being woken up in the middle of the night to 'Stuart, tell your mother/father......". I remember good times as well, but I always recall their relationship being strained, from a young age. My mother's mental health was beginning to fray as well and she'd spend years sorting herself out after the divorce and if I completely honest, never fully recovered from her problems. I knocked on the bedroom door and got a "WHAT" shouted at me by both of them. I took that as an OK to enter and said I needed to talk. To be fair to them, they looked worried, possibly by what I was going to say, thinking it involved me. I then just poured my heart out, told them that their endless bickering was taking me to the edge and ended with "I think it's best if you leave Dad".
For what seemed like hours, was maybe minutes but probably seconds, silence reigned. My Father agreed, my mother got hysterical and despite the previous argument in which she had clearly stated the hatred she felt, she was now professing love and begging him not to go, I held my mother and tried to calm her. I don't think either know how hard it was for me to say, my mother definitely doesn't, My Pa and I have other issues that are healing, but I don't think he understands fully, to this day, but our relationship is improving. A few minutes more and my dad gets up and goes to the loft, my mother goes completely nuts, she pulls the ladder free, my father is left hanging from the loft, above the stairs, my mum swinging him, if he falls, they both will tumble down the stairs. I look back on this whole thing comically now, it's hilarious, as long as I disconnect my self from the situation, but I feel my mum would have killed my father to stop him leaving, if given the chance that day. My dad pulled himself up into the loft. My mother would not move, know spitting venomous barbs at both me and my father, a lost look in her eyes. My dad tries o get out and she's on him, pawing for his legs. I've had enough, I go downstairs & pick up the phone. It's not working, I know why, it was used as a projectile last night, thrown at my dad by my mother for some unknown reason.
I go out the back jump on my bike and cycle to the nearest pay phone, the familiar, ammonia filled stench of urine hits my nostrils and as was typical of them, it had been vandalized, no phone left. I was now stuck with a choice, the next phone box I knew of was just a little closer, but in a different direction from the cop shop. I went to the police, I couldn't believe it had come to this, but it had and I raced there, pedaling as fast as I could, which was a mistake, as I was now in tears, distressed beyond belief and it took a good ten minutes to calm down and relate my tale and then I was in a police car. We arrived at my house to find my mother swinging from my fathers legs, who was just managing to support himself in the loft, if we'd been minutes later, my father has admitted, he doesn't think he could have held on.
The WPC takes my mother away to the kitchen, the PC takes my father to the bedroom. I don't remember much else, it takes hours though, it's gone tea time, my younger brother has come home from football training to this mess, my mother starts getting hysterical again. The PC helps my father pack. I know my mother's ill, I want to go with my father,my father wants me and my brother to come with him. I explain I can't, he nods, he knows I think, but he can't stay. He is gone, the PC takes me and my brother to the shops to get some things for tea, the WPC stays with my mother. He was kind the copper, he listened, but he didn't get it all, not the full story. My mother let her anger out on me for 2 years after that. In the end, my father getting custody made her seek help, it was a condition of her access, but I refused to see her for some time, I needed a break and I'd built up some anger and resentment of my own. I'm glad I didn't leave that day though. My mum wouldn't have coped, she'd not be here. I never even asked those coppers their names and as much as I lost that day, I think I gained more and they both deserve praise for teh help they gave me that day a private chat with the PC that day, which will remain private, gave me strength and resolve about the whole mess.
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