The Little Prisoner (18 page)

To begin with, I started to find the nerve to defy him in tiny ways, ways that no one else would ever have noticed but which were huge acts of courage for me. He and Mum idolized Emma, always wanting to have her up at their house and taking her whenever they wanted, regardless of whether I wanted it or not. Their house had become like a shrine to her; Richard had even erected a swing for her in the garden. All day he and Mum would be playing with her and I would sit there, glowering at them, trying to make it as unpleasant for them as possible.

Eventually, one day when Richard came round he said, ‘From now on I’m picking Emma up on her own. I don’t want your miserable fucking face around our house no more.’

I realized my plan had backfired badly. From then on he just came and took Emma, leaving me alone to think dark thoughts until he decided to bring her back to me.

Then one morning, I thought, ‘She’s my daughter and you’re not having her.’

I was waiting in the flat with her when he arrived, muttering over and over to myself and trying to stoke up my courage as I went to the door. I opened it a crack, keeping my foot against it so he couldn’t just walk in as he usually did. If I’d kept it closed he would just have kicked it in – at least this way I felt I stood a chance of running past him if he turned nasty.

‘Is Emma ready?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘What?’ He was obviously so shocked to have me talk back to him that he couldn’t take in what I’d said. ‘Better get her ready then.’

‘No,’ I said, hardly able to breathe with fear. ‘I’m not getting her ready.’

‘Get her ready!’ he screamed, his face turning bright red as he shouted and spat. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ll be waiting in the car for her.’

He knew I didn’t have a phone, so as long as he didn’t let me out of the flat he could come back in for Emma whenever he was ready. He’d also told me countless times how I had ‘an eggbox front door’ which was only designed to be an interior door and could easily be kicked in.

‘You see the plastic filling round these windows?’ he’d said once. ‘It’s only council stuff. All I need to do is take that out and the panes will just pop out.’

It was true that he always seemed to be able to get into the house whenever he wanted to. Once I had thought I was in there on my own and turned round to find him standing behind the curtains, just waiting, because I’d left the patio door unlocked.

Now he strode back out to the car, no doubt confident that he’d nipped my pathetic little rebellion in the bud and that I would be meekly getting Emma ready for him when he returned.

I closed the door quickly and tried to keep calm, breathing deeply and fighting the urge to play safe and give in. I was committed now. I would get a punishment anyway for answering him back. I was going to have to press on, whatever the consequences.

I quickly ran through the options in my mind. It was no good attempting to get out of the back door because that was where he would be parked. My best bet was to be ready at the door when he came back so I could run out the moment he barged in. I was more likely to be safe outside on the street than trapped inside the flat. He wouldn’t be afraid to make a scene and smack me about, but he probably wouldn’t take it too far in public, especially if I had Emma with me. He would be concentrating on trying to get me back indoors where he would have time to do as much damage as he wanted.

On the kitchen worktop behind the door I’d laid out a carving knife, a Stanley knife and a hammer. I was prepared to use any one of them if necessary. If I killed him it would only mean going to prison, which couldn’t be any worse than the life I was already living.

I quickly dressed Emma so that we would be ready to make a run for it when the time came.

Fifteen minutes later Richard was back and banging on the door. I was surprised he didn’t just kick it straight in, but maybe the few minutes he had had to gather his thoughts meant that he was keeping control of his temper. Maybe he realized I was serious this time and that he would have to be careful if he wasn’t to blow the seventeen years of training me and breaking my spirit.

I was shaking all over and thought I was going to throw up with fear. I put Emma behind me and opened the door a crack again.

‘Get Emma out here now,’ he ordered.

‘You won’t be seeing her again,’ I told him, my voice trembling uncontrollably.

He ranted and raved, saying he was going to get Mum to sort me out and that he was going to kill me when she’d finished with me, but he didn’t force his way into the flat, which surprised me.

‘Emma can easily be made to disappear, you know,’ he warned. ‘You can’t watch her every minute of the day. One day you’ll look away for a second and she’ll be gone.’

I shut the door while he was still yelling about smashing the windows in. I waited for the sound of splintering wood as his foot came through the door, but it never came. It was as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. Once he had finished shouting there was just silence.

When I was sure he’d gone I went to a neighbour’s house and stayed there until late that night, telling them everything. In one way it felt good to be talking openly about my private nightmare, but at the same time I was still terrified that Richard would find out I had let our secret out of the bag. Eventually I felt it was safe to go home again.

My neighbours gave me a walkie-talkie and promised that if they saw his car or any member of the family approaching they would buzz me and I should grab Emma and run to their flat.

Shortly after Steve and I got back together I told him what I’d done and he bought me a mobile phone and told me that I should call the police if Richard tried to get near me. I was glad to have the phone, but I knew I would never ring the police. If I did that the retribution would be too terrible to contemplate. I’d seen what had happened to other people who had informed on my stepfather and I wasn’t ready to go that far yet. At the moment this was still just between him and me.

Everything was quiet for a few days. I felt much the same way a soldier in the front line must feel, waiting for the enemy to attack and never knowing when it’s going to come or from what direction. I tried to make life seem normal so as not to stress Emma, but I spent most of my time round with my neighbours as they tried to feed me up a bit.

One afternoon a friend came round with her daughter, who had just started crawling. It was a warm day. ‘Let’s sit outside,’ she suggested, ‘get a bit of sun.’

Not having heard anything from Richard for a while and being with someone friendly made me feel safer than usual and I agreed. We took a couple of chairs and sat just outside the door. I had my back to it, so I could see the entrance to my flat, and was talking to my friend as the kids played around at our feet.

Suddenly she turned white.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘Your dad,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘he’s just picked up Emma and walked into the flat.’

I couldn’t believe it. How could that have happened in just a few seconds with us sitting right there? Along with the fear that I felt rising inside me, a surge of anger roared up at the thought of him taking my baby.

‘Go home quickly,’ I told her, and she knew from my voice I was serious. She scooped up her child and hurried away. As I went inside I wedged the door curtain into the door to keep it open.

Richard was standing in the kitchen with Emma in his arms, just waiting for me.

‘Give her to me and get out,’ I said.

‘I told you you’d have to watch her all the time,’ he taunted. ‘This is how easily I can get to her.’

I picked up the Stanley knife from the side where I’d left it.

‘Give her to me now!’ I screamed.

‘I’m taking her,’ he sneered. ‘There’s nothing you can do to stop me. If you try, I’ll be contacting social services and telling them what a bad mother you are.’

‘Give her to me!’ I screamed, refusing to allow myself to be intimidated any more.

He just smiled.

‘Give her to me or I’m calling the police!’

Still he didn’t move and I stormed back outside, relieved to be out from under the same roof as him, but frantic with worry that he might just walk away with Emma and there would be nothing I could do to stop him. I didn’t have the phone with me and I’m not sure I could have dialled the number anyway, the way my fingers were trembling.

‘Someone call the police!’ I screamed for all to hear. ‘He’s taking my baby! Call the police!’

Suddenly he was beside me, yelling and swearing at me. But at least he had put Emma down.

‘I’m gonna get you,’ he repeated over and over, and I thought he was going to hit me, but I didn’t care. What would one more beating matter after so many? This time I kept shouting back.

To my amazement, there was a look in his eyes I’d never seen before, as if he was worried. In seventeen years I’d never stood up to him, never challenged him seriously, and he wasn’t sure where to go next. He had already used every weapon in his arsenal. There was nothing that he hadn’t done to me already and I had survived it all. If he wanted to shut me up now, he was going to have to kill me.

The neighbours were beginning to come out of their doors to see what all the fuss was about. They too seemed to be emboldened by me taking a stand against Richard. It felt as if the tide was finally turning. He obviously wasn’t sure if the police had been called or not and so, after one last bravura rant, he turned and left.

I was boiling with anger and I needed to let it out somehow ‘Please,’ I said to a neighbour, ‘take Emma for a few minutes.’ The woman nodded, seeing that I was almost out of my head with rage, and picked Emma up, hurrying her away from the scene.

I stormed back into the flat and started smashing everything in sight, hurling plates and cups and glasses and ornaments to the floor, feeling better with every explosion of breaking china. I wanted to throw out everything Richard had ever touched or sold me or given me. I even managed to heave the three-piece suite he had made me buy off him out into the street – God knows how I found the strength, because it had taken several people hours of pushing and shoving to get it in through the door in the first place. But having been suppressed for so many years, my anger now roared out of me like a tornado, giving me super strength, and there was no point in trying to stop it until it had spent its force.

Eventually I had nothing left to break and I subsided onto the stairs to get my breath before going to my neighbour’s to retrieve Emma and bring her back to what was left of our home.

From that day onwards I spent my whole time hiding in my bedroom or in the neighbour’s flat, or sitting in Steve’s car. I kept all the curtains shut and the doors locked, with knives nearby in case Richard battered his way in and I had to protect Emma. I started sleeping with a carving knife under the bed, just like Mum. Even though Steve had changed all the locks on the doors, I still didn’t feel safe. I had seen how Richard would just smash his way into people’s houses and I couldn’t see how a few flimsy locks were going to be able to keep him out if he was determined to come for us.

After a few days the neighbours started complaining about all my furniture sitting outside and I realized I couldn’t just leave it there. It was when three blokes tried to get it back in that we realized just how powerful my anger must have been! Now that anger had subsided I could hardly lift the stuff. I still didn’t want anything of Richard’s in the flat and started asking around to see if anyone else wanted any of it. Whatever offers people made I accepted, just to get rid of it all.

Sometimes Richard would park outside the flat in his car, beeping the horn for hours on end just to let me know he was still out there and would never go away. The noise must have driven the neighbours mad, but they all knew better than to try to stop him.

Every sound was threatening and it was hard to sleep. When I did drop off I was attacked by dreams of stabbing and shooting Richard and him getting back up and coming for me over and over again, like some invincible zombie in a horror film.

I was so on edge my relationship with Steve was almost impossible. I couldn’t bring myself to respond to his advances in bed, even though I loved him, and he was becoming increasingly frustrated by my inability to give any rational explanation for my behaviour. He was trying to understand what was going on in my head, but he lacked the information that would have made the picture clear. He knew that Richard was a nasty, bullying piece of work, but he couldn’t understand why I allowed him to terrorize me in the way that he did. Nor could he understand why it had to affect
our
relationship so badly

Three weeks after the confrontation with my stepdad I realized that I was going to lose Steve, exactly as I’d lost Paul, if I didn’t do something positive about it. I had discovered I was pregnant again and I couldn’t face the idea of Richard defiling another of my pregnancies with his sordid demands. I just wanted us to be a normal family with Emma and the new baby, and I knew that if Steve went I would have no protection against Richard when he eventually decided to come back for me. As my pregnancy progressed I would become more vulnerable and once I was looking after two small children I would stand almost no chance of keeping him at bay. I had to do something now.