In Ashlee’s childhood of drug deals and violence, Grandma’s home was a safe haven

After her daughter fell into drug addiction, Marita, now 79, fought for custody of her granddaughter, Ashlee McNamara, now 32 and a technology consultant. Both strong-willed, each accuses the other of never apologising.

Marita with Ashlee McNamara. “She’d sit in her car outside Mum’s house in the middle of the night, making sure I was OK,” says McNamara.Credit: Eddie Jim

Marita: I married John at 20 and had our first child at 21, another at 22 and another at 23. My last child, Kim, was born when I was 26. I was only 40 when I had a heart attack. I put that down to the stress of Kim [who started hanging out with drug users at 14 and later became a heroin addict].

In 1995, the phone rang out of the blue and a relative of Kim’s partner told me that things weren’t good. Her daughter Ashlee, who was three, had been found in the dark outside the house [in Robe, South Australia; Kim was not at home]. John took a week off work and went and brought her home to Melbourne. I was young then, see; 50. My four children were all grown up. I was well and fit. I couldn’t do it now because I’ve got severe scoliosis, probably from lifting all those babies around.

It was a rigmarole getting custody; it took us until Ashlee was 13. But through all the court hearings, she never changed her story: she was too scared to go back to her mum’s.

She was a very good child. We had a caravan at the beach at Phillip Island. They were the best years she’d had. At Christmas, she loved the catalogues advertising kids’ toys. She’d study them and study them. Once, when she was staying with her mother before we got custody, John came to pick her up and gave her a catalogue. But he was a smoker and when he wound down the window, the catalogue flew out of the car. She cried and she cried.

‘The one thing Ashlee doesn’t do is apologise. She’s very determined; you can’t cross her. She’s won three scholarships. She’s not silly.’

Marita

I enrolled her in kinder, explaining that we weren’t her legal guardians at that point, but we knew her mother wasn’t going to come and pick her up. Ashlee said she was sure, too. She played Mary in the end-of-year nativity concert but never took her eyes off the door of that hall. She was checking to see whether her mother would turn up. She didn’t. Ashlee didn’t cry.

In 2014, when Ashlee first started working [as an executive assistant at a building company], we’d have lunch once a week in the food court at a shopping centre. People would take notice of us because she’d be laughing her head off and just being herself. It can be hard for her to be like that with other people; she’s definitely got trust issues.

Ashlee still doesn’t feel fully loved, even though we’ve loved her to death. She’s not a good mixer – a bit of a loner, really. And yet she can get up on stage and talk, which she does for the Mirabel Foundation [which helps the children of addicts].

She’s a bit of a gym freak and walks every day. When she was little, she’d do what she was told, but now she sort of knows more than I do – and anybody else. The one thing she doesn’t do is apologise. She’s very determined; you can’t cross her. She’s won three scholarships [including one to Deakin University]. She’s not silly.

Marita and her granddaughter Ashlee McNamara. “When she was little, she’d do what she was told,” says Marita.Credit: Eddie Jim

Ashlee: My first memory was when I was three and a man came to the door. I didn’t know he had a knife behind his back. He chased Mum into my room and she hid behind me. He came at me with the knife and trashed my bedroom. Mum’s partner had to drag him out. There was always so much violence. They hung our dog on our fence.

Mum was prostituting from the house and sometimes left me alone to go out and do drug deals. I’d be invited to birthday parties, but she wouldn’t be there to take me. My school uniform smelt like drugs. My grandparents’ place was a safe haven.

Grandma was the tough carer. She didn’t show much emotion, but if I had any issues with Mum or school, she’d be there. My aunties told me she’d sit in her car outside Mum’s house in the middle of the night, making sure I was OK.

‘She even told the police how proud she was of me when they came to the door to tell us that Mum had passed away from an overdose.’

Ashlee McNamara

I slept in her bed from when I was five; I had bad nightmares. Grandpa would sleep in my pink fairy room. From the ages of three to five, I’d wait on the porch every day for Mum to come and get me. Grandma would say, “Come inside, Ash; she’s not coming.” She’d set polystyrene cups all down the hallway and if something happened with Mum, I’d stomp on them to let out my anger.

Mum knew she couldn’t look after me but didn’t want to let go of me, either. In custody disputes, the courts get you to match a fictional character to a family member. Mum would ask me to pick Cruella de Vil for Grandma. She really copped it. I think that’s where the Mirabel Foundation became so important: Grandma was able to talk and heal with other carers. It changed both our lives.

Dancing was my outlet growing up and Grandma was at every concert. She’d always tell me how proud she was. She even told the police how proud she was of me when they came to the door to tell us that Mum had passed away from an overdose [in 2017]. She goes: “This is Kim’s daughter. She’s done so well for herself; gotten a scholarship to university and bought her own house.”

We share a love of theatre, musicals and ballet. For her upcoming 80th, I took her to see Beauty and the Beast. My auntie said Grandma told her if she could have just a couple more days like that in her life, she’d die really happy. That was super-special to hear.

I’d say she’s the one who never apologises. I look at her as a bit of a boss, the way she carries herself. She never lets other people’s opinions get to her and my friends think she’s the funniest person. Sometimes she thinks I’m trying to control her, but I’m just trying to protect her because she’s all I’ve got left.

She’s struggling to remember things now. That’s hard because she’s the only person who understands what I’ve been through. I think I do struggle to feel loved – Mum ultimately chose drugs over me – but I definitely know Grandma loves me. She’s my grandma, my sister, my best friend, my mum. There’s nothing I could ever do to show her how grateful I am.

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