Apparently I was a “bad” child, and was always told by my fathers wife, and her mother, that I was the black sheep of the family. It was even written in “the family” bible somewhere I think. They’d be flipping pages, muttering, smiling, groaning, you know there’s not much that can be said while your stuffing your face with scones, pastes, chocolate… and my siblings and I were busy being whipped into the “house cleaning business”, a business my fathers wife had not be trained for.
Any way, I digress. So, I’m not five yet (I don’t think) and for some reason my fathers wife kept an unusually intense eye on me. But this night, I recall being made me sit on the wet floor of a large bathroom while she showered. The bath tub and shower were one installation and was situated in the centre of the bathroom, and had a plastic, or nylon, shower curtain around it, and the floor was cold bare concrete.
Now I’m a fire sign, Leo, and being a fire sign I had/have a fascination with fire, and how was it my fault matches had been left lying around. So, while my fathers wife showered, I sat on the floor and played with those matches that must’ve been mine because if they weren’t, why were they in reach?
Anyway, to cut a long story short, a match caught fire, then the shower curtain. As it all went up in flames, with my fathers wife inside, my father ran in to the sounds of screaming. You’d think I’d murdered the cat. My memory of this is, dad picked me up and pulled me from the room while the flames sparked high. The sound of their rise was only dwarfed by the screams of my fathers wife.
Dad told me to go to bed and all I heard until I fell asleep was, ‘She tried murder me, she’s trying to murder me.”
It was a bit over the top, I mean really, fire sign here!
If her attention towards me was intense before that, it certainly only got worse after that.