My new room was now directly above the living room and I’d hear Dad yelling, the loud crashes of furniture being pushed over or broken and Mum crying or shouting back.
On more than one occasion I walked in to see my dad’s hands around my mum’s throat – it was terrifying.
Practically estranged from both Dad and Michael, I was surprised when my mum came to stay with us for a few days after I gave birth to my daughter.
Dad did try to reach out a few times in the year that followed: the first time was to invite me over for Boxing Day dinner.
The next time was shortly after I had a miscarriage – Jim had called him to let him know I was in hospital – and he insisted my coming home was the best thing for my recovery, but I knew better and again declined.
