Bye Bye Tree

Merlin Kemp

So I'm climbing my tree over the road. Again. I love it, I can get higher than the house in no time, and I can see right across the valley. It's a big leafy oak tree probably hundreds of years old, definitely older than everything else I can see. It's full of life; big green leaves, hundreds of acorns and tiny green caterpillars hanging from invisible silk threads that cling to my face as I climb up through the leaves.

And here we are us two, him big and old, and me. I miss my tree during the long winter, when he's all bare and slippery and it's too cold to face the sharp wind that blows around the empty branches.

Mum and Dad are at it again, screaming and shouting, stamping and banging. I don't know exactly what's going on in there but I've seen it enough times to have a pretty good idea. I can look down into my bedroom; I can see the low window ledge we normally sit on when they are fighting. We pull the curtains together behind us and just sit there, my wee brother and me cuddling in the window, the bright world outside sheltering us from the dark and scary insides of the house downstairs. No cuddle for him now, he's at the bottom of the tree. Waiting.

The wind blows, and the white noise fills my head, no wee brother, no mum and dad. But they come back, the noise of the leaves just a flutter blocking out the last three years of shouting and crying.

This time it's different, our presence in the woods is enforced, mum wanted us out and I'm about to find out why. The front door opens with its familiar swoosh and the last shout of the fight spills out into the forest 'and don't take the car!' The door slams. Silence.

Mum crosses the road to the bottom of my tree. Come on you two, we're leaving. I can't really see her through the leaves and branches below, but I know she's sad, I think I can hear her crying. There is no noise from the house.

I'm never that quick at climbing down my tree, I don't like it and anyway, it's tricky. When you climb down, all you can see and feel is the tree, it's all around you, and you grip it even tighter, but you still slip and slide, your heart in your mouth. This time I'm shaking and it takes me ages. I think mum has calmed down a bit by the time I get to the bottom.

'Sorry mum' I say. 'It's not your fault'

We get in the car. We're leaving and I don't think we're ever coming back. What about my toys? Can't I even get my money box? 'Ok go and get your money box, but be quick.'

I cross the road and go into the house. Dad is sat on the sofa, quiet, head down, his back to me. Cigarette smoke hangs in the air. I'm just getting my money box I say. 'Go on then.'

Whenever I look back I wonder what he was thinking. So long as I've got my little box of pennies I don't mind? Well I needed something to hold on to, I needed to take some control.

I know where my money box is, next to my bed, with Peter Rabbit on the front. I pick it up and leave. Dad hasn't moved.

My wee brother's crying, but I've got my money box, and I'm feeling ok. I'm glad to be out of the house. Mum starts to drive down the hill and I look back over my shoulder. I wonder if I'll ever climb my tree again.