This series of stories will be titled 'I'm surprised I turned out as well as I did, given my childhood ...' 38

Remember the flirty babysitter?

Well, I have another story to tell you about her.

She allowed me to stay up later than my brother and sister – which was more than my mother did.

I believe it was only because she wanted to watch the horror films and didn’t want to sit watching them alone. I didn’t mind, I loved the Hammer Horror movies. I remember watching Rosemary’s Baby too… That preyed on my mind a little…

On Saturday nights, we’d watch Starsky and Hutch, The Dukes of Hazard, The Six Million Dollar Man and all the other 70s favourites.

I suppose it was great that those shows were on because we made sure we were home in time to watch them, no such thing as video recorders then – not for another six or maybe seven years.

The babysitter would either arrive or get fetched by my father and we’d all settle down.
One evening, my mother and father went off to work as usual.

I don’t recall whether or not I was allowed to watch the horror movie. I can only guess I was.

There was a possibility of my father coming home up until around 10pm when the club they worked at began to get busy. He didn’t always come home, but there was always a chance.

I went to bed after the movie.

I used to sleep on the floor in my room, on a makeshift bed and the babysitter slept in my bed (my younger siblings shared a room).

I woke up to find the babysitter sitting on the mattress on the floor next to me. She looked concerned and was stroking my hair away from my eyes. (I didn’t actually think people really did that… apparently, they do.)

I sleepily asked what was wrong and she said I’d been awake for ages and she’d been concerned and watching me, making sure I was ok.

There was a lot of shouting going on downstairs and outside. Car doors slamming, people running and the dog, Bruce, was going mad. (I’m not even sure if he wasn’t let out and set on someone…)

Then my mother came upstairs and without a word, the babysitter let go of my hand, went downstairs and finally home – EXCEPTIONALLY unusual.

When my father got back from taking the babysitter back home, I went down stairs and we had a bit of a discussion.

I was asked what time I’d gone to bed, what happened when I was in bed, who had come to the door…

Not got a clue. I went straight to sleep and hadn’t heard a thing.

Over the next few days, the story began to unfold.

Our babysitter had arranged for two men to come visiting her (I told you she was ‘flirty’).

It would have been ok if they hadn’t decided to go to the local pub to wait for everyone to go to work or bed.

The two guys asked about our house (using my father’s name) and where to find the house. Two strangers in a close-knit local pub, asking about a neighbour’s house when it was well-known the neighbour and wife went out to work until late – nope, not going to create any suspicion… Just how stupid can you get?

My great-grandmother was told that two strangers were asking about our house and how to find it and so she phoned my father, her grandson, at work.

I can imagine the feisty old lady doing exactly that. She was small, old and frail, but she didn’t mess about.

“You’d better get home right now,” she’d have said. “There are two men wanting to know where you live and my great-grandchildren are there. If anything happens to them…”

The emphasis on ‘anything’ would be heard as a threat in itself; never mind leaving the sentence unfinished. I can imagine she struck terror into the hearts of many with that unspoken threat.

The two men finished their drink and made their way to our house – except they knocked on the wrong door first and frightened the three girls there.

They found our house and were let in by our babysitter.

Minutes later, my mother and father arrived home – probably with a few friends in tow too.

The babysitter ran upstairs to make her alibi (me) and left the men to make their own escape. That, I assume, is where all the ruckus came in – as well as the dog barking.

Once my parents had ensured I’d not been harmed and my brother and sister were still asleep (Yep, really), we all went to our beds.

About half an hour before my parents usually got home from work, a knocking on the door woke us up again.

I heard my father go to his window and ask what the guy wanted.

“Taxi, mate!” I heard.

I don’t believe I’d heard my father swearing like that before…

The upshot of that debacle was that I was suddenly perceived as old enough, responsible enough and capable enough to be the babysitter.

Really? Me?

Had my parents actually MET me?

There was NO way I was responsible enough to look after my brother and sister. I doubt I was old enough.

Still, I perked up at the thought of getting some money for doing the job…

Ooops… silly me. Responsible enough, old enough (in a couple of months – or six) and capable enough to look after them… but not responsible, old or capable enough to get paid for the privilege.

I never got paid for babysitting. It was expected of me.

Hmm… I seemed to get in more trouble for being late home on Friday and Saturday nights after that.

I mean… what are they going to do if I was late for ‘work’? Sack me?

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