My Secret Sister: Jenny Lucas and Helen Edwards' Family Story by Helen Edwards, Jenny Lee Smith Page A
Authors: Helen Edwards, Jenny Lee Smith
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were both called out of our classrooms to talk to the police and look through some photos to see if we could recognize the flasher. I don’t remember whether we did or not, but this caused great excitement amongst our classmates and we were both very popular that day! Fortunately, it never happened again.
My main friends were the children I played with at Embleton, boys and girls of different ages. We all got on so well, but in my mind I was always an only child. Much loved, but very much the only child. I minded not having any sisters or brothers, but I didn’t dwell on it much in my younger years. If Mam was working long hours, Dad and Grandpa were always there to play with and we had a lot of fun together, but there were moments when I missed a sibling’s companionship.
One day, I spotted a dog tied up to the wrought-iron railings outside our school. When I bent down to stroke him, he turned round and bit me, which shocked me so badly that, for a long time after that, I was terrified of dogs. My father sensed my fear and spoke to my mother about it.
‘I think we should have a dog. It would be good for Jennifer.’
‘We are not having a dog in this house.’
‘But a dog would be good company for her, pet.’
‘I do not want a dog in this house. I have enough to do as it is, without dog hairs and worse to clean up. We are definitely not going to have a dog. That’s my final word on the matter.’
She was so adamant about it that Dad didn’t raise the subject again. But one day – I must have been about seven – he came home from work with a tiny bundle tucked under his jacket. It was a black and white cocker spaniel puppy he’d been given by one of his work colleagues.
‘Oh, Sid. Not a puppy!’ exclaimed my mother.
Dad put the puppy down gently on the floor and she scampered around, exploring her new home. As she watched, Mum’s anguished scowl turned to an involuntary smile and she began to waver.
‘Can we keep her, Mam?’ I implored.
‘We-e-ell . . .’
‘Please, Mam. Please! ’
‘All right,’ she surrendered. ‘As long as you can train her properly. I don’t want messes all over the house, mind.’
This dog took over the role of the sister I never had. I named her Janie and I talked to her all the time as we played together. She listened and sympathized if I had troubles at school, and was a loyal companion, always there for me – such a great friend.
‘That dog is your shadow, Jen,’ my dad used to say as she followed me about.
Much as I loved Janie, there were still times when I longed for a proper brother or sister. I got on very well with my cousins, some of whom were also only children, and with Barbara in particular, who was the same age as me, but she had sisters of her own, so for me it wasn’t like having someone always there to play with and talk to, especially when difficult things happened. Sharing my feelings and worries with someone of my age would have helped so much.
CHAPTER 6
Helen
Ginger Wine
I thought it was normal for everybody to live with a constant feeling of tension. There was always the imminent threat of violence hanging over us, and the suspense that went with it. I spent my childhood with this voice inside saying, ‘Don’t put a foot wrong,’ but somehow something always happened to set things off. George was the one person at home who cheered me up, when he wasn’t out or staying over with his mates. He had left school as soon as he was fifteen and was now working down the mine, so he earned a bit of money, most of which he had to give my father.
One day he bought me a little grey rabbit and we built a hutch together. Well, he built it and I helped. I called my rabbit Smoky and he was a joy to me. George showed me how to look after him and I did everything I could to care for him every day.
It was winter time, I remember – a hard winter, bitterly cold. One Sunday morning I got up before anyone else and went outside to feed Smoky. To my
My main friends were the children I played with at Embleton, boys and girls of different ages. We all got on so well, but in my mind I was always an only child. Much loved, but very much the only child. I minded not having any sisters or brothers, but I didn’t dwell on it much in my younger years. If Mam was working long hours, Dad and Grandpa were always there to play with and we had a lot of fun together, but there were moments when I missed a sibling’s companionship.
One day, I spotted a dog tied up to the wrought-iron railings outside our school. When I bent down to stroke him, he turned round and bit me, which shocked me so badly that, for a long time after that, I was terrified of dogs. My father sensed my fear and spoke to my mother about it.
‘I think we should have a dog. It would be good for Jennifer.’
‘We are not having a dog in this house.’
‘But a dog would be good company for her, pet.’
‘I do not want a dog in this house. I have enough to do as it is, without dog hairs and worse to clean up. We are definitely not going to have a dog. That’s my final word on the matter.’
She was so adamant about it that Dad didn’t raise the subject again. But one day – I must have been about seven – he came home from work with a tiny bundle tucked under his jacket. It was a black and white cocker spaniel puppy he’d been given by one of his work colleagues.
‘Oh, Sid. Not a puppy!’ exclaimed my mother.
Dad put the puppy down gently on the floor and she scampered around, exploring her new home. As she watched, Mum’s anguished scowl turned to an involuntary smile and she began to waver.
‘Can we keep her, Mam?’ I implored.
‘We-e-ell . . .’
‘Please, Mam. Please! ’
‘All right,’ she surrendered. ‘As long as you can train her properly. I don’t want messes all over the house, mind.’
This dog took over the role of the sister I never had. I named her Janie and I talked to her all the time as we played together. She listened and sympathized if I had troubles at school, and was a loyal companion, always there for me – such a great friend.
‘That dog is your shadow, Jen,’ my dad used to say as she followed me about.
Much as I loved Janie, there were still times when I longed for a proper brother or sister. I got on very well with my cousins, some of whom were also only children, and with Barbara in particular, who was the same age as me, but she had sisters of her own, so for me it wasn’t like having someone always there to play with and talk to, especially when difficult things happened. Sharing my feelings and worries with someone of my age would have helped so much.
CHAPTER 6
Helen
Ginger Wine
I thought it was normal for everybody to live with a constant feeling of tension. There was always the imminent threat of violence hanging over us, and the suspense that went with it. I spent my childhood with this voice inside saying, ‘Don’t put a foot wrong,’ but somehow something always happened to set things off. George was the one person at home who cheered me up, when he wasn’t out or staying over with his mates. He had left school as soon as he was fifteen and was now working down the mine, so he earned a bit of money, most of which he had to give my father.
One day he bought me a little grey rabbit and we built a hutch together. Well, he built it and I helped. I called my rabbit Smoky and he was a joy to me. George showed me how to look after him and I did everything I could to care for him every day.
It was winter time, I remember – a hard winter, bitterly cold. One Sunday morning I got up before anyone else and went outside to feed Smoky. To my
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