My mind wandered to thoughts of Shelly telling me, “I’m Mum and Dad’s favorite; they love me more than you.” Shelly also insisted, “Vicki, you’re adopted. That’s why there are hardly any baby pictures of you!” I thought it wasn’t true, Mum always told Shelly to stop being naughty, but I never forgot. The longer I waited with the lollipop lady, the more I wondered; was Shelly right? Did Mum and Dad not want me anymore? I was a kid after all and believed everything I was told.
As it turned out, my “dreadful concern” was simply a case of crossed wires. Mum thought Gramps was going to pick me up that day; she got her days mixed up.
So, to everyone who blurts in jest—think about the receiving party. Unintended, hurtful comments can last far longer than well-intentioned compliments.
~
When the time came to start at Becket, my worries about new friends quickly dissipated. It was there I received my first handmade Valentine’s Card and experienced another new sensation; romance.
His name was Lee. We were in the same class, and he’d left the card in my school drawer. When I opened it, I could feel his smile. My heart raced and my cheeks blushed for the first time. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling that was exciting but also embarrassing. I quickly hid the card in my school bag.
We never spoke about it! I guess at the age of nine I was more interested in playing with Barbie dolls than making boys laugh and cry, sometimes all at once!
~
One of my most vivid memories in our new home was Shelly’s brazen attempts at mischief. Once, she locked me in a shed at a garden center and told Mum and Dad that she had not seen me. I was locked inside for about an hour, crying and utterly terrified, before I was found. Shelly feigned surprise, pretending she knew nothing of my incarceration.
There was also the Nightmare on Elm Street incident. Our uncle was watching the movie at Nan’s house. We snuck in to see a bit of the film. We were shocked to see a girl with blonde hair flying around the ceiling covered in blood. Freddy Krueger had sliced her open with his knives. I felt sick and trembled all over, experiencing real fear for the first time. I was absolutely petrified and haunted by the graphic images.
Neither of us could sleep that night. We were both scared, even though Shelly pretended she wasn’t. Shelly crept into my room and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ve worked it out. The blonde girl died first, so if Freddy comes, he’ll kill you before me.” (I was a natural blonde as a kid). I cried myself to sleep.
The most mischievous and looking back as an adult, the funniest stunt Shelly played was with one of my dolls after we had watched the horror movie, Child’s Play.
Admittedly, the doll did look like the killer Chucky doll from the film. She obtained a kitchen knife, cello-taped it to the doll’s hand, and put it in my bed under the duvet. I screamed until my lungs were empty. Fear was a feeling that I didn’t enjoy, and hoped in adult life, I’d never have to experience it. I was wrong.
3.
FIRST DANCE
“Heroes are ordinary people who make themselves extraordinary.”
― Gerard Way
1987…
When you are a kid, there is always that one person you look up to, aside from your loving parents. Mine was Gramps Albert.
I’m sure every granddaughter puts their grandfather on a pedestal, but my Gramps was truly special in every way.
Picture little Sophie in Roald Dahl’s novel, The Big Friendly Giant—a girl who believes she can save the world with the benevolent BFG.
Gramps was no BFG, but he was a dapper man with a heart bigger than the universe, a smile that glistened, and a sense of humor that knew no bounds.
“Come here, my angel, sit on my knee,” Gramps always insisted whenever I went to visit.
I would run for cuddles in his armchair in front of the fire, or as he sat on the kitchen stool. I’d snuggle into his warm woolen V-neck jumper that smelt of Old Spice. His love made me feel all was right with the world, and always would be. He taught me the importance of unconditional love.
Gramps took pride in his appearance. I can still picture him standing in front of the kitchen wall mirror, combing his hair carefully into place—a man of pride. “It doesn’t cost much to look your best, just a few minutes of your time, and a little attention to detail.” Gramps passed his appearance-consciousness onto me; I’ve always tried to look my best, dress smart, and be pristine for any occasion.
~
Gramps immensely enjoyed party games like Bingo, Admiral Nelson, and the £1 game that allowed him to indulge his charming sense of humor. During Admiral Nelson, participants were blindfolded and told they were meeting the great war hero himself. Their hand was guided to a leg, stopping at the knee, and told dynamite caused its loss, the same with an arm to an elbow, which was lost in a duel.
Finally, he would say that, at the Battle of Waterloo, his right eye was lost. Our finger was shoved into an orange to mimic an eye socket!
Trust me, it was very convincing, as was the belief that we would keep the £1 at the bottom of a bowl if we could grab it in one attempt.
Of course, while blindfolded, the bowl would be swapped for the turkey’s giblets and gravy—yuck! Those games taught me a new feeling; repulsion. But I did enjoy being teased.
Gramps’ all-time favorite game was the “dribbling cup.” Unbeknown to me, at seven, he took a drinking glass with an etched design and drilled some tiny holes that were virtually invisible. The idea was that when you tried to drink from it; the liquid would spill everywhere.
“My glass is broken!” I cried, embarrassed.
“Don’t be silly. You’re just dribbling. Turn the glass to the other side,” Gramps answered, straight-faced.
I took another sip and another. Each time, the drink would spill over my chin. So, everybody in the room was having a chuckle at my expense. When he saw I was at my wits’ end, he revealed the trick and a little bit of wisdom. “Life is for living and laughing,” he said. I adored that he wanted to have fun with me.
Somewhere along the way, I began to take life too seriously. I forgot to laugh at my silly little foibles. As you’ll soon discover, I’ve strayed far from Gramps’ advice. The good news is I now recognize that.
~
As a kid, I always looked forward to the family summer holidays with Nan and Gramps, which usually coincided with his birthday on June 27. Gramps would swap his usual smart attire for a polo shirt and shorts and down cold Carlsberg pints in the scorching sunshine with Dad. Then there were the wine tasting trips where there was no limit. Bottle after bottle was opened. Watching adults get sloshed then walk in the heat clinking bottles like teenagers, amused Shelly and me.
~
My most memorable Gramps’ moment—one that still brings a tear to my eye—was him teaching me to waltz.
I was about eight at the time. We danced at Gramps’ Ruby wedding party (40 years). I can still picture the smile on his face. My hair was curled, and I wore a green and black glitter taffeta dress and black patent shoes. He smiled, took my hand, and we stepped onto the dance floor beneath a large mirror disco ball. I was nervous and self-conscious. In fact, I was totally clueless. I didn’t know what a Waltz was, let alone, the dance steps.
“It’s easy, just follow my lead,” Gramps said.
Then he took me in his arms, and we danced. It was magical. All was right with the world. Gramps made me feel like a special princess and his smile, as we glided across the dance floor,