Audrey Ellis - Searching Fifty Shades Of Grey

Hot with excitement, they lay there beside the trees, whilst in the distance, washing blew on the lines.

In a moment Esther was seeing, yet of course not understanding, the Queen’s Coronation. Why all the balloons and sandwiches down at the little metal hut community Centre whilst Esther explored the hall.

So the years flew. It was May who led Esther by the hand and introduced her to Miss Adams her infant school teacher at Meads. It was Miss Adams who helped her to read in those early years. Slowly Esther realized her mummy and daddy were a bit different but she was proud about this. However she was unable to understand until some years later why her mum had tears in her eyes when she was guided to one of the tubular seats in the school hall by a teacher. Why she cried whenever she and her classmates sang.

In the years that followed there were trips to feed the ducks at Gidea Park and days at South end- where their toes dipped in warm sand. Innocent squeals of delight rent high in the warm air. Eating roughly torn tomato sandwiches ‘eye-ball sandwiches’ as their daddy called them, with juices rolling down their freshly washed clothes then into the sand. Ice pops, wind in their hair whilst the roundabout spun their fish and chips; just eaten out of newspaper on the promenade splashed in their stomachs. Their happiness set and sealed to go on forever.

Sometimes there'd be donkey rides on the sands. No matter how bad the weather their mum and dad standing shivering and saying....

“No, you can’t have another go”, or, “no you can’t go into the sea...it’s not safe to!”

They were unable to understand why their parents seemed anxious. They would be allowed on the narrow-gauge pier railway sometimes. Squeals of delight with tiny fingers glued with the remnants of earlier toffee apples and sugary candy floss. They always had sixpence pocket-money to spend with their father saying......

“Once it is gone it is gone”. Money spent at the seaside meant none to go on toys at Peters field only toy shop.

Material things didn’t matter for wasn’t there love in abundance? Although the realization their parents were somehow different only became apparent when friends asked why their mum and dad reached out when they walked, or why did they use a white stick and how did they read to them with funny looking books with bumps on the pages?

They were equally puzzled by the tiny bell in all their rubber balls, which jingled as they played with them. They all played snap together as a family, with Braille markings for their parents. At night-time there followed Braille stories with shrill voice squealing...

“Oh read some more please mummy I’m not asleep yet!”

'How much more must I read? You were nearly asleep there!”

She and her brothers giggled. Esther stuffed her pillow below her elbows, and waited patiently as her mummy sat down on the floor beside the single bed with her checked skirt swirling out around her. Her hands rushing across the brown paper as she felt the raised dots which Esther couldn’t understand then. As fascinated with the speed her mum’s hand shot across the page as to what the story was all about.

Esther didn't have girly frilly stuff; her brothers put paid to that! Dolls came into their happy home with arms that moved and body vinyl; soft to touch and eyes that clicked and dark lashes flashed until her brothers saw fit to twist and pull at arms and legs...sometimes removing the head altogether. Of course they were chastised.

Sometimes they'd chase her up the close and she'd scream whilst heading for the woods and the blue-bells, buttercups and shadows whilst they hauled themselves up what felt like enormous trees. Of course she followed, knees grazed on the bark and shoes, meant for school, scuffed to hell yet in all that chaos they were happy then.

French skipping, marbles that rattled in their tins-some they would share if she followed her brothers for long enough and pestered them till they sighed and let her join in with games on the close where their world was safe and happy.

Accidents followed in the most surprising of ways however when Easter eggs hidden on the top of the wardrobe had almost fallen on them as they had reached up to get this temptation down......with them eating the soft milk chocolate in February instead.

Life consisted of normal happiness as celebrations followed...

There were shrivelled skins of balloons on the floor near to the piano that their mum played; whilst her children pulled back cushions to find small sweets which had been hidden around the house. Their beloved mum gratefully resting her hands on the piano keys as they searched. Then there was the day….

It was only after James carried Peters limp body in his arms) rushed through Mrs. N.’s front door that he began kicking and giggling loudly, missing a slap on the leg for that realistic play-acting! It hadn’t been long after this that he was taken to Harold Wood hospital, first to get a crayon removed from his left nostril and then, only weeks later, a saucepan from off his head. Esther, not excluded from childhood pranks, returned from the shops with wet sudsy hair and an empty bottle of shampoo saying simply;

“I wanted to and I felt like washing my hair in the rain, Mummy!” Their parents didn't appear to be phased by any of the fun that their kids got involved with.

Such as her younger brother hiding his vinyl ball in the oven and then wondering where his ball had gone. Their daddy forced to conceal his amusement and dismay whilst scraping the mess from the oven away.

Rarely though had Esther been as excited as the day she returned from infant school to find a fluffy ginger and white kitten dangling from the sitting room curtains, squealing for release, being able to move neither up nor down.

It must have been quite funny seeing cat and dog accompanying them on their walks each evening. Life seemed almost the same, but there were small differences, when their daddy no longer joining them on walks, but lay instead in bed. She had visited Coventry with her daddy aware he wasn't very happy with her. She had gone into the stream; near to her school. A boy from her class had thrown in her plimsoll bag. Aware her father wouldn’t be happy if he knew what she had been up to wouldn’t have been impressed. This was the reason why she remained quiet on returning home from the stream she had stuffed her soggy skirt to the bottom of their cane laundry basket. She prayed not to be found out but........

“But…but, Daddy. There wasn’t enough water there. It was only a little stream”.

He hadn’t stayed angry for long though when he did find out. She had been extremely close to her father. Always following his shadow; hanging onto every word she heard. She would peep behind the living room curtains of 8, the Close; patiently awaiting his return.

She hadn't forgotten how, only a few days before, she'd walked to the doctor’s surgery. Her daddy was very quiet and so didn’t listen to her pleas for an ice cream from a nearby Mr. Whippy van.

“Have a lovely time in Coventry with your Grandmother”, shouted the kindly doctor’s receptionist, “and take care that that case doesn’t burst open again, won’t you!”

She had already assisted Esther with stuffing the motley assortment of overnight clothes and her dad’s shaver back into the case that had burst open in the doctor’s waiting room. Once on the train, having reached Liverpool Street, it wasn’t a long journey. She skipped brightly along beside her father. Him always insisting she held his hand tightly on the underground. They made their way to the main station where there seemed to be a high ceiling. Esther was never afraid of the crowds. She noticed barrows and men selling newspapers whilst busy women stuffed their bags with all sorts of things.