‘Look, Daddy,’ she said. ‘I’ve got two mums, two brothers and a dad.’
‘Yes, you have,’ I said, ruffling her hair. ‘Aren’t you the luckiest girl around?’
Her relationship with Anjie went from strength to strength after that. They spent a lot of time together, baking, shopping, and sewing – all the things that mothers and daughters normally do. Anjie had always wanted a daughter, and now it seemed that at last she had one.
In 2003, Becky started at Summerhill Primary School, where Danny was already a pupil. It was just a few streets away from where we lived, and we hoped that she would settle in quickly and enjoy her time there. Instead, she screamed her head off when Anjie tried to leave her there, with the upshot that she had to hang around and help the teachers, just to make Becky stay. At home she had always been fearless, but at school we were surprised to find that she seemed to struggle to bond with most other kids. She had one close friend, called Hope, and she also became close to her cousin, Brooke, Anjie’s sister’s daughter, who was three years older than her. She might only have had two friends, but Becky was fiercely loyal to them from the start, something she shared with her old man.
When the summer holidays arrived it was always the start of a chaotic but fun-filled time in our house. We didn’t have a lot of money, so we never went abroad, but we always went off in the caravan for a week or two. We’d start by picking Nathan up, complete with his massive rucksack, then get on the motorway to our destination of choice, usually Brean Sands, Weymouth or Minehead.
As soon as we got there, Danny and Nathan would be off, getting up to mischief as all boys do, and Becky would beg to go to the swimming pool. She was a proper water baby. She adored swimming, and by the time she was five she was incredibly confident in the water. She could happily spend all day in the pool at our campsite, and it was always a nightmare getting her out again. She loved it so much I built a 25-foot-long and 12-foot-wide pool in our back garden for her to splash about in. Her feet couldn’t touch the bottom but she was absolutely thrilled, and every day when it was warm enough she’d strip off straight after school, tug on her swimming costume and jump in.
Becky’s favourite place to go on holiday was definitely Butlin’s. She loved it there, because there were so many things for kids to do that they never got bored. It was great for Anjie and me too, as the kids could entertain themselves, leaving us with some valuable adult time.
By the time Becky was five, Nathan was sixteen and old enough to babysit her and Danny while we went for a drink. He liked to earn some pocket money and show us how grown up he was. I was proud of the effort he made with his siblings on these occasions. He even volunteered to take Becky into the ball pit a few times to thrash around in the colourful plastic balls, and he often took Danny on the water slides. I remember one occasion in particular that always makes me chuckle. Anjie and I were in the pool with Becky, waiting for the boys to come down the slide, and we noticed that they were taking an awfully long time.
‘What on earth is the hold-up?’ I muttered to Anjie. Then I noticed that Nathan was laughing – holding onto his sides with laughter, in fact – while six-year-old Danny had a face like thunder. After a while, they came back down the steps, with Danny looking like he might burst into tears.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ I asked, thinking some kid had picked on him. ‘Why didn’t you come down the slide?’
‘Some fat woman got stuck.’ Nathan howled with laughter. ‘They sent everyone back down the steps. They’ve had to call for help to get her down.’
We all watched with amusement as they tried to drag this poor woman down the slide by her feet. Danny was upset to miss his turn on the slide, but he saw the funny side in the end and he had another go later. I know it sounds odd, but that is one of my favourite memories of us on holiday as a family: all five of us standing there, laughing at something silly.
One of the best things about Bristol is that there are loads of family friendly events held all year round. One of our favourites was the Bristol Balloon Fiesta. Becky loved watching the hot-air balloons take off and fill the sky, and all three kids adored the fairground. Nathan always took Becky and Danny on the rides for me because I was far too petrified to get on them myself. As an engineer, I could see everything that could possibly go wrong with the mechanics of a ride. It would make me feel sick just watching, but I couldn’t bear to spoil their fun by banning them from going on.
‘I’ll just wait here, Bex. Nath will take you,’ I’d call, waving them off. I usually stood, rigid with fear, for the whole three minutes while they whizzed around, screaming their heads off with delight.
Of course, life with children isn’t always about treating them – I had to do a great deal of teaching and coaching too. When Becky was six years old I taught her to ride a bike by slyly removing her stabiliser wheels before she climbed on. I gave her a shove and was thrilled when she sailed off down the path without them. Of course, as soon as she realised they were missing she fell over with a look of surprise and confusion on her face.
‘My wheels have fallen off, Daddy!’ she shouted, but she soon got up and tried again. She was always a very determined character.
When she started learning her times tables at school, I would test her while she was on her trampoline in the back garden. She would bounce up and down while I sat on the step and shouted out: ‘Five times three? Six times four?’ That was our unique way of doing homework!
Becky was never happier than when she was outside, and she and I loved going for long country walks. Although Bristol is a busy city, it is blessed with lots of countryside around about and some fantastic public parks. One of our favourite places for a stroll was St George’s Park, which wasn’t far from our house. Becky would pull on her wellies and trot along by my side, her little hand in mine, but she did insist on stopping every five minutes to examine any flowers or bugs she could find. She loved climbing trees or fishing for tadpoles in the pond with her fishing net. We would collect them in jam jars and watch as they turned into frogs – something my father used to do with me.
Becky wasn’t the type of girl who was afraid of insects. When she caught head lice at school – an ongoing battle for Anjie and me, as she was always coming home with a new crop of them – she’d ask me to show her the little critters I combed out of her hair. She was fascinated by them, examining them under her microscope and even labelling them as ‘my little friends’. It made me shudder with disgust, I have to say.
As she got older, her personality just got stronger – complete with an attitude on occasion! Once, when she was six years old, she finished her dinner and waited expectantly at the table for dessert. I realised that I didn’t have anything else to give her, as I hadn’t done the food shopping yet. I was hoping that she would get bored and play with her toys, as Nathan and Danny had done, but she stayed at the table, staring at me.
‘Daddy, where’s my pudding?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Sorry, Bex, no pudding tonight,’ I said. ‘Daddy hasn’t been to the supermarket yet.’
The dismay on her face was almost comical. ‘No pudding?’ she exclaimed. ‘But I ate all my dinner!’
‘You can have extra pudding tomorrow for being a good girl,’ I said, chuckling.
I didn’t expect her to react so violently, but she threw herself dramatically from her seat and ran out of the room, returning a few seconds later with the phone.
‘This is child abuse,’ she announced. ‘I’m phoning Childline.’
I couldn’t help bursting out laughing, which only infuriated Becky more.
‘I’ll do it, Daddy!’ she shouted, waving the phone in the air. ‘I’ll call them and tell them you wouldn’t give me any pudding.’
That just set me off even more, of course.
Becky couldn’t stop herself cracking