What Daddy Did (14 page)

When I saw Karen, I was so pleased because she was lovely. She was round and cherubic and so vulnerable. I got many opportunities to push her up and down the lobby in her big pram, rocking her to sleep; and as I did, I pretended – as with her brother – that she was my dolly. I'm sure if Helen had realised how much I enjoyed this 'chore', she would have stopped it.

I was so small that I could push the pram by going under the handle and moving it from the end of the pram itself. As I pushed and rocked her, she would look at me. I remember making little faces at her as she laughed and smiled. I loved this! How nice it was to have this positive response in someone. But I also worried. I thought that she would grow up and see that I was bad and ugly and evil, then she would no longer smile at me – but that never happened.

As well as pushing the pram, I was involved with basic chores connected with the baby such as washing nappies and sometimes feeding her. I didn't see much of her, however, because I was in my room so much. When Helen left, and I had to take full-time care of Karen, it wasn't easy – I was 11 years old – but I was more than happy to do it.

I remember that first morning after Helen left so well. We were all milling around the house in a state of confusion, yet I was so happy. I just couldn't believe that she had finally gone. The most surprising thing for me was that she had left Karen behind. When Helen had left a year previously for a little while, just after Karen's birth, she'd taken the baby with her. I'd really missed the little one. I'd missed her smiling face as I pushed her in the pram.

As time went on, Karen would beam at me whenever she saw me. Being so small, I had to stand on something to lift her out of the cot but I managed it. I also managed to bathe her and feed her and then spend whole days playing with her. She and I went virtually everywhere together. I finally had someone to love properly in this baby and she loved me back. She would sit on my knee and I would read her stories. I would sing her the nursery rhymes I used to sing to myself as I stood alone in the bathroom or bedroom. I would draw her pictures and I would laugh as she tried to draw. I protected her from her eldest brother nipping and tormenting her. I walked her to and from nursery. I took her to the play park and the swimming baths. I got her to eat things she had never tried. I nursed her when she was ill. I would go to the charity shops and buy her clothes and I would dress her up as best I could.

By the time I left home, Karen was at primary school. I was so desperate to get out of the house and away to start my own life that I just couldn't give much thought to what effect my leaving would have on her. I now know that, at that time, she felt she had been 'abandoned' again. I did feel guilty, and when I visited once or twice in the first year after I left, I went back just to check on Karen, as she was the only one I gave any thought to.

She was my little sister. Ironically, as she has no direct blood link to me, she is the only one I class as being real family. She was the only one who showed me true love during my whole childhood.

I tried to keep in touch with her but going back to the house where so many things had happened to me was difficult. At one time during my twenties when I was living with my fiancé and his parents, I would collect Karen and she would come and stay over. I would take her shopping and buy her well-needed clothes. My future mother-in-law, Flora, was a remedial teacher, and she would sit and help Karen with her reading and writing. I would buy her lots of Christmas presents and wrap them up and take them to her.

But then I abandoned her again.

Before I married, I made a conscious decision to leave my past behind. I couldn't deal with the memories of all the things that had gone on in my childhood every time I visited the house and saw Karen. For my own self-preservation, I withdrew again. In my youth and ignorance, I didn't consider the effect this would have on Karen or what her fate would be when my father died, leaving her homeless. I now know that all of these acts devastated this vulnerable young girl, and that she didn't have an easy time when she went to live with her older brother. I wish I'd had the wisdom and knowledge then that I have now, but I was used to thinking about my own survival first.

I am very proud to say, though, that in spite of what could have been devastating for us – what could have been the end of a bond we made all those years ago – Karen understands now that we were both victims of circumstances way beyond our control, and she has accepted me back into her life.

I am so proud of her because she is a beautiful woman who has managed to carve a nice life for herself with her husband, who she's been with since her teens. They have two lovely, intelligent little girls, and the love in their family is inspiring. This, as far as I am concerned, is a real achievement because it wasn't easy for Karen.

After I left home it was just Karen and my Dad in the house. My Dad was not at all a well man at this time, yet in spite of social work contact she was left to look after him in a sheltered housing complex. She has told me about much of this time she spent with my Dad but I shall respect her wish not to go into the past here. I'll say only this: Karen, I loved you from the minute I saw you. You are my little sister. I know I haven't always been there for you, but now that I am able to put the past behind me I know we have so much to look forward to, as do our children as cousins. You are an amazing young woman. I have enormous respect for you and your husband and I love your two beautiful little girls to pieces.

I want you to know one thing: Helen Gourlay Ford may be your biological mother but I can assure you that you are so very, very different from her. If she'd had only one ounce of your kindness and gentleness then our childhood might have told another story. But the past is the past and now I look forward to the future with you in my world.

Karen, I love you.

THE YEAR BEFORE HELEN
left was, by far, the worst – given what I'd already been through, that says a lot. Helen was constantly cross and miserable and the parties were more frequent and more horrific for me. I can't understand her justification or motive for any of this. I can only guess that behind the increase in parties and the appalling nature of the sexual attacks on me was some sort of reaction to how she perceived her life and home situation.

As always, I have many more questions than answers. Was she preparing to leave my Dad and somaking things worse for me as she knew she wouldn't have access to me soon? Was she punishing my Dad by punishing me? If that was the case, did he explicitly know what was going on? I know I'll never get to the bottom of it all.

There were a number of men involved in my abuse. Some of them I saw only once or twice, but there were also a few who repeatedly raped and abused me. I never knew their names, of course, and I barely saw what they looked like. Sometimes my room would be dark as I didn't have lots of natural light coming in, but at other times I just couldn't bear to look at them or even open my eyes at any point. I guess that just made it better for them – some of them must have wanted my fear and terror as much as they wanted what they were doing to me.

What I do remember is the smell of them.

And what they did to me.

What they, as grown men, chose to do to a child.

During the summer holidays when I was nine years old, the obscenities against me reached a new high. I spent most of my time in my bedroom that summer anyway, but there were huge differences in the experiences I had there. Sometimes, in the morning, I'd be told by Helen to 'get up and get up dressed'. I knew this meant there was a chance I might get out into the sunshine for a bit that day. I'd push baby Karen in the pram to the local shops and I'd go to the butcher's and the greengrocer's, and usually the baker's, before returning home. Once I got back, there wasn't much variety in what I was ordered to do. Helen would scream, 'Get to bed, you!' I'd do as I was told – I was well trained – and get out of my clothes, keeping my underwear on, before getting into bed.

What I did next would depend on what I could hear outside.

If there was no party going on or preparations under way, Helen would just want me out of her way for the rest of the day. On those days, I could usually sneak a book out from under my mattress and take it over to the closed door where I got the most daylight seeping through beneath the gap. I could manage to read quite a lot while Helen was busy in the living room. Sometimes, I could even draw if I had managed to hide a scrap of paper and a few pencils or crayons from the others. Helen would have gone ballistic if she'd caught me, but she usually preferred to ignore me completely if I was in my room. Nevertheless, I would continually listen and watch for someone coming near my room.

However, if I got back from the shops with Karen to the signs or sounds of a party being prepared, the day would be quite different, and I would long for the alternative of being left alone for hours on end with no food and no company. I'd hear her getting ready. The music would go on. I would get my usual command to get to bed, but on those days I would go there and sit bolt upright with my arms by my sides while things got under way. Some days, things would happen quickly; other times, it would take longer. I could be sitting there like that for minutes or for hours. I had no control over it, but I knew what was coming.

It's difficult to say exactly how many people were at these parties, but I'd guess around six at the most, including Helen. I only ever heard one other female voice at these events, a woman I didn't know. The parties always started around lunchtime, and they began with three rings on the doorbell.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

When I heard those three rings I would freeze. I'd wait for the sound of the footsteps and the shadows passing by my door as the bell was answered and people were welcomed in. The music would have been going for pretty much all of the morning anyway, but it would get slightly louder once guests arrived. There would be talking. There would be laughing. There would be the sound of beer cans popping and I could smell the cigarette smoke.