The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir (40 page)

“You don’t believe me. I will meet a movie star and get out of this bloody dump. Just you see! People like you belong here. In this filth and squalor. You were born to it.”

“Oh, la-di-da! Aren’t we Lady Muck? You’re the Queen. And I’m nothing. That makes you the Queen of nothing. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“You know I hate you, don’t you?”

“My dear Margueretta. No one cares what you think anymore. Whatever time we might have cared about what you think has long passed.”

“Really? No one cares what I think? We’ll see. You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face when a Bunny Scout finds me and takes me to the Playboy Mansion in America.”

“You’re right, Margueretta. I will be laughing.”

“Don’t spoil my dreams!”

“Spoil your dreams? Spoil your dreams? Are you damn well kidding me? God, if you could hear yourself! All of your dreams are bloody nightmares! And we are the ones who have to live in them!”

“They’re going to teach me how to mix cocktails. I’ve got to learn the recipes from a little book they gave me. Manhattans, Harvey Wallbangers, Gimlets. You’ve probably never heard of those things.”

“And how long will it be before you’re drinking those cocktails, eh? Enjoy it while it lasts, Margueretta.”

“Oh, I will. I will enjoy every minute of it. I’ve been fitted for my outfit and everything.”

“Can we see it?” Emily asked.

“As soon as I get it, you will see it. This is the turning point in my life. You’ll see. Some movie star will sweep me off my feet. They said they get all types of movie stars in the Playboy Club. This is my chance.”

“How exciting!” Emily exclaimed.

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he sleeps during the day because she doesn’t get home until three or four o’clock in the morning. They bring her home in a taxi because there are no buses in the middle of the night, and she doesn’t have a car to get home from the Playboy Club.

She puts on her Bunny outfit before she leaves in the evening, and it has a little cotton tail on the bottom, which she wiggles for her customers. But they are not allowed to touch it because that is against the rules. She said that some customers do touch it, and some of them even pat her bottom. She never says anything because that’s just the way it is when you are on the lookout for a movie star to take you to America.

I hope she will take me with her.

Constable Ferguson still comes here because Margueretta is on probation, and he just wants to be sure that everything is going well, and she doesn’t get into any more trouble. He thinks it’s a miracle the way things are now with my sister being a Bunny Girl, and he says it’s lucky they have to wear gloves because she can cover up the scars on her wrists.

She gets up in the afternoon and takes a bath every single day. She said all the Bunnies do that. I still take a bath once a week. She puts on her makeup, and she looks like a movie star herself—all glamorous and amazing like Twiggy.

She asked to speak to me yesterday afternoon in my room.

“Look John. I don’t want you to go through what I’ve been through. It’s over now, and I will be leaving soon. I’ve met a man at the Playboy Club. I
don’t want to talk about it in case
she
tries to stop it. She’s jealous of me, you know. She will do anything to destroy my life.”

“Who?”

“Mum, of course! I’ve told you already! You know who I mean. I watch the way she looks at me when I get dressed up in my Bunny outfit. If looks could kill…anyway, I’m almost out of here now. I’ve saved some money. And things are going very well with this man. We’re in love. This is the real thing. I’ve been in love before, but now I am a woman. This is real love.”

“Is he going to take you to America?”

“He says he will. But he’s not American. That doesn’t matter. You need to look out for yourself, John. That woman will have you in the asylum if she feels threatened by you. Locked up. No one is safe. No one. She’s in a conspiracy with other people.”

“Who?”

“That Mollie woman for one. They’re in it together. There are others. They have ways of doing things to you. Terrible things. Do you have nightmares?”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“What are they about?”

“Different things.”

“Well, watch out for the ones that are real. Watch out for the people who come into your room in the night looking for you. Watch out, John.”

“I will.”

“Has anyone been to the house looking for me?”

“Not really.”

“Not really? What does that mean? Who’s been here? Tell me!”

“Constable Ferguson comes round for a cup of tea…”

“Constable Ferguson! Why didn’t you tell me? He’s in it with her! Oh, for God’s sake, there isn’t much time. When was he last here?”

“Yesterday. He comes here a lot.”

“I think I’m frightening you. Forget what I said. Just look out for yourself. She’ll stop at nothing and remember she’s done it before, and she’ll do it again. You’re never safe. Not while you’re in this house. Do you understand?”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll be gone soon. This man is…well, let’s just say he’s handsome and wonderful and he’s in love me. You’re too young to understand what that means. He says I am the prettiest girl he has ever seen. The other Bunnies said to watch out because it’s against the Bunny Code. But they’re just jealous. He’s really handsome, John. This is the one. I can’t tell Emily, or she will tell Mum…”

“No, she won’t!”

“Well, that’s unproven. The hall floor looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you going to do when all the black floors are covered?”

“I’m going to start painting the walls.”

“She’ll never thank you. She expects it.”

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he thought they called her in for not declaring her prison record. But the ethics they were talking about were the ethics of fraternizing with customers. Especially with a middle-aged, married man who should know better, pretending he was going to take her to America with him. They’re sure his wife would have something to say about her husband having an affair with an eighteen-year-old Bunny Girl. And the Bunny Code is very strict. They took away her outfit and her Bunny Manuals.

You can’t keep those things when you have been fired.

She got up as usual to run her hot bath today.

“First, you run a nice, hot bath. Then take off all your clothes. Doesn’t matter if they find you naked. You’re dead so you won’t be embarrassed! Climb in the bath and lie back. Then relax with a bottle of sherry. Make sure your wrists are nice and hot from the water. It numbs them. So does the sherry. Then get a nice new razor blade…you slit the vein, right here. You can cut across it. Or slice down the length. Like this. Down the length is more effective than across….”

It was the plan she already had in her head.

But she isn’t dead.

The bathroom door wasn’t locked when I heard the cries. And the ambulance got here really quickly after I ran to the call box. The blood looked like cumulonimbus clouds before the storm. We’re learning about cloud patterns in geography.

Mum says I am very brave, and I am definitely the man of the house now, but my daddy already made me the man of the house when I was seven.

Trust you are looking after Mum, as you are the man of the house now. Are you doing a good job? Yes! I thought you would.

I say my prayers every night to God and to Jesus. I’ve never missed a night. I tuck my knees up to my chin and count to a thousand. And sometimes I say the Lord’s Prayer.

Our Father, which art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name.

God help her. Please, Jesus, help her. For the love of God.

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hey’ve sectioned Margueretta under the Mental Health Act to be locked up for her own safety and for the safety of others. She’s eighteen, and that’s the only way you can lock up an adult against her will. She said she would change, and she would never stop taking her pills again. And everyone said they’ve heard it all before, but it’s too late now.

So they’ve her locked up.

I don’t think they will ever let her out again. And for now, she is in a straitjacket because she said she would kill herself or someone else if she was ever locked up again. Mum said it’s too stressful to go to that lock-up ward so she’s not going back anymore to visit Margueretta. So Margueretta will just have to stay in there on her own with all the mad people and the bars on the windows and doors. Yes, she can stay in there for the rest of her life. On the inside.

“Maybe some movie star will find her in there and take her away from all of this!”

Mum had to come home early from work last week. She said she was staring at some numbers at her desk when the lights went out, and she thought it was a power cut. But the lights were still on, and she was blind. So they helped her into a taxi.

Her sight has come back already. It was the mind’s way of shutting down. Dr. Wilmot said she’s had a complete nervous breakdown, and I need to look after her. I don’t mind looking after my mum, but she doesn’t seem like my mum anymore. She says things I don’t understand about the mysteries of the world, and the other day she started crying and handed me a letter to read.

“Look at this, Johnny. I’m sorry for you to have to find out this way. He’s dead. You need to know how he died. Your father is dead. He had lung cancer. They cut one lung out, and then he contracted pneumonia. I’m so sorry.”

I read that letter, of course.

St Mary’s Hospital

My Dear Emily and John

Many thanks for all you have done for me, and tried to help me. Well, we are hoping my operation will be a success. But if it’s the Lord’s Will to call me home, don’t grieve about me as I am an old man now and I have had my day. I would have liked to have been with you and the dear children a while longer, but it can’t be helped. Just stick to each other and the children. Dear Wee Margueretta, Wee Emily, and Wee Johnny. They are nice Wee Bairns.

God Bless you all and keep you till we meet again. Remember me to every one.

All the Best

Your loving Father

The letter was dated 22 November 1959. I told Mum that this letter was from my dad’s dad, and my father isn’t dead at all as far as we know.

“Mum! This letter is dated 1959. It’s not from my dad. It’s from my grandpa, and it’s addressed to you and my dad.”

But she said she was sorry my father was dead. Dr. Wilmot said not to worry because she will get better, and all of this will pass.

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gave Mum the choice, and she said she wants the kitchen repapered first because those roses have turned from red to brown. So I’ve picked out a vinyl wallpaper with green and white flowers from Le Bon Marché in Portsmouth. I will make a start on the walls on Sunday. And with the oak-effect parquet being finished, we’ve got a carpet for the front room. A bright, orange carpet from the Littlewoods Catalog. I cut it to fit with scissors because it is wall-to-wall carpet.

People who go to grammar school have wall-to-wall carpet and vinyl wallpaper. They do not have a front room—it’s a lounge. And it’s not tea—it’s dinner. And they eat Black Forest gateaux if they are having tea, which would be in the middle of the afternoon.

I sleep without a nightlight, and the dark night sky has come down already tonight and it’s rushing into every space between the stalks in the wilderness outside my window. It is dark at the beginning, and it is dark at the end. The dark joins with the giant blackness that is in the attic because it is too big for that space. And then to the darkness inside my head that I stole from the cellar.

We will always know what is inside Margueretta’s head because we all lived there for a long, long time not only as voyeurs but also as participants, taking secret photos.

That’s why I lie awake at night until some vile hallucination makes me think my arms and legs are suspended from the ceiling while my body is sliding down the stairs like limbless, black treacle. I’m a helpless, drowning amputee in a sea-anemone forest of arms.

They come into my room, but I never look at them. Angels of death knock inside the walls, always waiting for someone to die, until there is a death. And when they grow silent, the thing from the corner of the cellar comes down from the attic, eyes bulging out like my big, green marbles.

And then I sleep. And the nightmares begin.

Night, night Margueretta. Now you can sleep with an orange nightlight glowing in your bedroom after dark, reflecting little moons and stars on the ceiling. And dream the sweetest dreams of little girls and wear your pretty party dress for your daddy. He will dance with you, and you will swing on a star.

And when you reach up, we will hold your hand.

The ghosts are all gone now.

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hey took Mum away for a short break. It was obvious, really. The doctor said it won’t be for long—just until she gets her mind back and stops thinking in that mixed up way where she believes people are dead when they are still alive.

Almost everyone is gone. Pop, Dad, Nana, and my little brother…and my mum.

And Margueretta. She’s locked up forever.

The dangerously insane have to be locked up and shackled for all of our protection. She’s still in a straitjacket. No one can get out of that device. She can’t even scratch her nose or go to the toilet without asking politely for help.

They used to give them ice baths—that certainly silenced them for a time, and then they passed out. When they regained consciousness, the skin was peeling off their bodies like wet tissue paper.

I shouldn’t think about these things anymore. Not now. Margueretta is never coming back.

The moon is shining through the window tonight, making shadows of tree branches on my bedroom walls. The shadows dance like ancient slaves wanting to be released. You can’t see those shadows when you close your eyes. You can only see them when they are open.

Mine are open.

At first, it sounds like a dog, howling in the distance. Not every night. But tonight, she’s there—and soon she will be screaming again in the attic. Just above my head.