Swan Song
Penny’s love of swans helps her come to terms with the truth about her relationship.
(4-5 minutes)
Swans get a bad press. They can’t actually break your arm with their wing; that’s a myth. And if they do lash out it’s only cos they’re protecting their family, and they’ll probably break their own arm – sorry, wing – in the process.
Swans are loyal, see? They mate for life … and they look after their kids.
Ducks now, they’re completely different. They’re all for a bit of adultery. Kids all over the place and probably don’t even know it. My bloke said it wasn’t true – about swans mating for life – but it definitely is, cos I read about it.
He hated me reading …
One day, after I burnt his toast, he burnt all my books. I tried to stop him, but … well … I couldn’t, could I? And then he started on the kids’ books…
When it got like that, you know, with him kicking off and the kids crying, we’d go down the river and talk to swans. (Me and the kids, that is. Not him.)
And there was this one particular family of mutes – a mum, dad, and two young ‘uns who was quite big, but still grey, and they knew us … they definitely knew us, because they’d always paddle over to say hello, and if we’d got any food we’d share it with them. Bread, mostly. And like I said, they wouldn’t really hurt anyone, but Mr Swan, if he saw a duck or a dog or anything he thought might be a threat, he’d hiss and flap his wings and make a right old scene … and whatever it was annoying him, soon got out the way. It wasn’t scary or nothing; he was just being protective, that’s all.
My boy wrote a story about it in school, except in his story Mr Swan was a nasty bastard and turned on his kids; chased them out the river and they hid in bushes until their Mum rescued them.
His teacher asked to see me. She wondered if everything was all right at home … She was looking at my broken arm when she said that … I told her our home life was perfectly all right thank you very much, not that it was any of her business … And him, well, he hit the roof; said teachers were there to teach, not ask questions … The kids hid in their rooms till he calmed down.
And then one day, I met an old school friend in the library. I hadn’t seen her in years … she’d been off to uni, travelled around the world and was training to be a nurse … All I’d ever done was get pregnant and have kids … She couldn’t believe I was still with Him … but it was nice to see her. She asked if I fancied a night out.
“Who’s gonna look after the kids?” he said.
“I never go out,” I dared to say.
“You’re always out,” he said. “Looking at those stupid swans.”
So I said, “Yeah, well that’s the thing with swans; the dad does actually babysit sometimes so the mum gets a bit of ‘me’ time, to build up her fat reserves.”
He just laughed. Said I didn’t need any help with my fat reserves and to stop comparing myself to a swan because if anything I was more like a duck – short, fat, always complaining and not good for anything except a roast dinner and a gang bang …
To be honest, I was surprised he knew anything about ducks, but it’s true, they’re not loyal like swans. Drakes share their mate around … holding her down and pecking her while another one takes his turn … it’s brutal, and sometimes she ends up de-feathered, bruised and bloodied; she might even drown…
That day (when he compared me to a duck) that was the day it changed … I didn’t want to be a duck. I was a swan … and I was going to do whatever it took to protect my family, with or without a mate…
I picked up the kids from school and we took the first train north, to Scotland.
He rang. Begged us to come home, said he was sorry, promised to change, swore it would all be different if we just gave him another chance … and then threatened me if we wasn’t back by tea time…
But my days of being an ugly duckling were over … “Never call me again,” I said. And those words … they were like … like a beautiful song.
My swan song … except I wasn’t singing cos I was dying. I was singing cos at last, I was alive.
© Wendy Storer 2021