Chapter 11- 1st generation-life with family domestic violence 1950's chapt. 9 My mother's story.

My brother and I played out on the street alot and my dad used to whistle at night at about 6pm to get us to come home. my mum and dad both worked every weekend at the Manly Fun Pier in Manly, Sydney. They would be there long hours and I would be taken in a basket when I was a baby and sit with mum in the ticket box. When I was older I went on the rides and to the beach and joined Manly swimming club. My parents would get home about 10pm at night and I would have done some housework for them and cooked my own dinner from the age of about 12yrs old. The atmosphere in the house was often very bad. During the week my dad would go to the pub every night and drink six to 10 beers in a sitting then come home. He was consistently drunk and came home in a really bad mood. My mother would sometimes nag him and he would get angry. My father lost his temper on many occasions. He was always very aggressive towards my brother who didnt like to retaliate. All I ever remember is my father shouting at my brother, "are you man or mouse!" At about 15yrs my brother defended himself in a fight and my dad put his fist through the wall. My mother would often faint on the floor after these episodes. My brother and I did not bring many friends home. I spent a lot of time in my bedroom looking out over the little creek outside my window with my little transistor radio up high so I couldn't hear the arguing. One time my father came home and the dinner knife was not straight on the table so he lost his temper and was saying my mother was slovenly and ripped the whole tablecloth off the table and smashed everything. My brother had a girlfriend and she fell pregnant at 19. My mother gave them Johns bedroom to sleep in for 6 months but it didnt work out as my mother and my brothers girlfriend didn't get on. So my brother and then wife left home at about 20. My father moved immediately into my brothers bedroom. The arguing continued and got worse through my teenage years. The arguing was so bad sometimes that I would go and sit out on the back steps. When I got a boyfriend we would sit out on back step and wait till the arguing died down so we could go out. My mother slept with a hammer underneath her pillow. One night I came home and my mother's nose was broken and she had black eyes. She never called the police and we were never allowed to let any of the family or friends and neighbours know what was going on. I ran around and shut all the windows so nobody would hear. My mother would tell people she had walked into a door or something to explain bruises. At 15yrs I went to live at my uncle Daves house and asked my mum to join me, but she replied, "who will make your dads lunches?' I stayed there for about three months and my mother rang me every day pleading me to come home. Eventually I came home.