Mummy, Make It Stop (19 page)

The next day Gavin kept winking at me, and when he passed me he would touch my bottom, or brush against me. When we went home, a couple of days later, I was relieved. But after a few days Sheila asked me to babysit. ‘We’re going to be really busy,’ she said. ‘Can you stay over? Then we needn’t worry about keeping you up late.’

I agreed, and she showed me the spare room, where she’d made up the bed. I didn’t mind staying - it was a cold night and I didn’t want to have to walk home if Mum was staying on late. But in the back of my mind there was a nagging worry about Gavin. Surely he wouldn’t try anything - would he?

The evening passed quietly. I put Lauren to bed, watched some TV and went to bed myself. Sheila had brought me up a drink and some crisps and there had been no sign of Gavin.

The next morning I woke in the early hours, around dawn. Suddenly the door to my room opened and I saw a shadow in the light from the hall. It was Gavin, wearing only his shorts and t-shirt, holding a finger to his lips to indicate that I should keep quiet. He walked over and sat on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair away from my face, and then leaned over and kissed me. Within minutes he had climbed in next to me and was rolling on top of me. Frozen with panic, I didn’t dare say a word as he forced himself inside me.

Then the door banged open and the light was switched on. Sheila stood there, her face a mixture of anger and surprise. Gavin leaped from the bed and I lay rigid, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would explode.

‘What are you doing?’ she said, looking from Gavin to me.

‘Shit,’ Gavin whispered under his breath. ‘Louise had stomach ache and I was just seeing if she was OK,’ he said lamely.

The next moment, Sheila launched herself at him, hitting him, screaming and crying.

‘What? On top of her in bed,’ she yelled. ‘You dirty bastard, she’s a child.’

I hoped she would know I hadn’t encouraged him, but I was soon proved wrong.

‘Get out of that fucking bed now,’ she yelled at me, dragging the covers off and then lunging at me with her fists. ‘You dirty little slut, get the fuck out of my house.’

She turned to Gavin. ‘And as for you, I’m calling the police straight away,’ she shouted. She went towards the phone, but Gavin grabbed it, begging her to calm down and talk it over.

I stood with my back against the wall, still in my pyjamas, rooted to the spot. All I wanted to do was get out of the house and back home with Mum where I would be safe.

Sheila finally got hold of the phone and called Mum.

‘You’d better get round here now and get your slag of a daughter out of this place before I fucking kill her,’ she yelled down the phone. ‘I’ve just caught the slut in bed with Gavin,’ and she slammed the phone down.

She and Gavin disappeared into another room, and I was left there on my own, wishing a hole would appear and swallow me up.

Ten minutes later Mum arrived. By that time Lauren had woken and was crying, and Sheila was screaming at Gavin.

‘You stay away from my daughter,’ she yelled. ‘You’re never going to see her again.’

Mum grabbed my arm and dragged me out. She had a taxi waiting outside and we both got in. We went home in total silence. Mum didn’t even look at me, and I didn’t dare speak, or try to explain. I felt so confused. I hadn’t done anything at all. Gavin had come into my room and got into bed with me, yet I was being blamed.

Back home, Mum marched me through the front door and up the stairs and then shoved me angrily into my bedroom.

‘You’re a disgrace and disgusting. Stay in your room all day and I’ll deal with you tomorrow,’ she shouted, slamming the door behind her.

I crawled into bed and lay crying for a long time. I wished I could turn back the clock and do something differently, but I wasn’t even sure what. I curled up and held my knees tightly against my chest, gasping and crying as quietly as I could.

I was still crying by the time night arrived. I cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning Mum ignored me, walking away when I went into the kitchen and slamming the door behind her. A few minutes later she came back in and told me I was grounded for the next two weeks. I never went anywhere anyhow so the grounding was pointless and didn’t worry me. What did hurt was the look on Mum’s face as she told me I had brought shame on the family and was a slut and a slag. I sat silently as she shouted at me. I wanted to curl into a small ball. I needed her to hold me and tell me it wasn’t my fault and that everything would be all right. I wanted her to say that Gavin had taken advantage of me and was wrong. When she didn’t, I began to doubt myself. Perhaps it was me, after all. I was the bad one, I thought. By the time she had finished laying into me I felt I would be better off dead.

I stayed at home for the next two weeks, mostly in my room, venturing out only to eat and use the bathroom. I felt dirty and shamed and lost. I had liked Gavin and the attention he gave me - so did that make me guilty? Why did my own mum always blame me, even when other people hurt me? I didn’t want to see anyone or go anywhere. Just curl up in my bed and cry.

Jamie’s court case was due, and Mum wanted to go. He was pleading guilty, so she didn’t have to testify. She missed Jamie and hoped he would get off with another fine and come back to live with us.

Neither Tanya nor I went to court with her. She didn’t ask us to go, and we thought she’d arrive back with Jamie that afternoon. But when she came home, she was alone, and her face was like stone.

‘Bastards,’ she said. ‘Those bastards have sent him to a detention centre. Six months, he got. All for nicking a few bits and pieces. He should have got a fine, or community service. Those pigs had it in for him. I’m going to the pub,’ and she stomped out again.

Mum had told me she could never go back to the Angel Inn after I had shamed her. But within days of the incident, Gavin and Sheila had split up and left the pub and new land-lords had taken over. She made sure I knew that it was all my fault, that I had broken them up. But at the same time I could see she was pleased, because she could go back there again.

That’s where she headed after Jamie was sent down. After she’d gone, Tanya and I looked at one another. We both knew Jamie had had it coming - he’d been thieving for years, and fines had never stopped him. But we were sorry too. We loved Jamie, and now he was gone, just like Paul.

A few weeks later Mum met a new man in the pub. Alan lived right next door to it - perfect for Mum. She fell for him in a big way and they started seeing one another every day. He was a bit older than Mum, reasonable-looking and friendly; he was very popular at the pub. He had a job and drove a nice car. So it was hard to work out what he saw in Mum. Perhaps it was just that she was lively and loved a party. Whatever it was, they quickly became an item, and from then on Mum was glued to his side.

I liked Alan, and the relationship actually seemed to calm Mum down a bit. She’d been moving from one man to another for months, so I was glad she seemed keen and hoped she’d stick with him. He was nice to me, and life was a bit easier with him around.

I couldn’t help wishing that I had a boyfriend of my own. Mum, despite her size and the scars, had no trouble attracting men, and Tanya seemed to have five at once. All I wanted was one, but no-one had shown any interest in me at all, and I was beginning to think they never would when I met Daniel.

I don’t know who brought him to our house. He’d never been before, but he appeared at one of Mum’s parties one night and sat quietly on the sofa, holding a can of beer. I thought he looked really nice - he was over six foot, with a nice smile, dimples and dark brown hair and eyes. He looked fit and muscular and had big hands - I wondered what his job was.

It didn’t even cross my mind that he might be interested in me. I ended up sitting next to him on the sofa because that was the only space in the room. So when - without saying a word to me - he took my hand, I was thrilled and shocked. I sat, my hand in his, neither of us looking at the other, wondering if he’d meant to hold my hand or had done it without even noticing.

We didn’t say more than a few words to one another, and I realised he was as shy as I was. Sneaking little glances at him, I decided he was lovely. I couldn’t believe he would really be interested in me. But he was - he stayed right to the end of the party and then, when I walked out into the hallway with him to say goodnight, he kissed me. It was my first proper kiss, and I felt so grown-up. Then he said, ‘I’ll come and see you again tomorrow, if that’s OK?’ I nodded; it was more than OK.

When he’d gone I wanted to dance around the room. Someone liked me! Someone wanted to see me tomorrow! And not just any old someone - a really nice-looking bloke. I couldn’t imagine why he wanted to see me, but he did, and I felt so happy.

The next evening he arrived at six, after he’d finished work. He stayed all evening, the two of us sitting on the sofa, holding hands and watching TV. I was still only fourteen and was so nervous that I sat bolt upright, stiff as a board, for most of the evening. But Daniel didn’t seem worried. At ten or eleven he kissed me goodbye, said he’d come the next day, and walked back to the house he shared with his parents, a few streets away.

That was how it went from then on. Daniel, who was eighteen, worked for a furniture removal firm, lugging crates, beds and chairs in and out of vans. After work every day he came over to see me and we spent the evening together. We never went out, we just sat together - him with a beer, me with a cup of tea - watching TV or chatting. If Mum was having a party we joined in, and if Alan was there, seeing Mum, the four of us would sit together.

Within a couple of weeks everyone accepted that Daniel and I were an item. I felt so happy that someone liked me. And I liked him - he was quiet, like me, and didn’t ask anything of me. I knew he would come round every evening and being able to count on that gave me confidence.

Things seemed to have settled down. Tanya was seeing a boy named Danny and was usually out with him, Mum was happy with Alan and was doing a lot less drugs and being less crazy, and I had Daniel. I still saw Dad and Sandra some weekends, but now that Daniel was around, I didn’t stay the night with them.

Then one day there was a knock at the door. It was a debt collector, threatening to take our furniture if Mum didn’t pay the money she owed. Mum shoved him out and slammed the door.

‘It’s that bloody money I had to borrow to pay Jamie’s fines,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got it.’

By that evening she had come up with a plan. We would do a flit and move in with Alan. Amazingly, given that they had only known each other for a few weeks, Alan seemed quite happy about it. So Mum, Tanya and I packed all our stuff into cardboard boxes, shoved them into the back of Alan’s car once it was dark, and left the house we’d lived in for most of my life.

I wasn’t really sorry to go, even though it was so sudden. So many bad things had happened there. As I looked back at it one last time, before we drove away, I half hoped that all the unhappy memories would stay with the house.

Alan lived in a maisonette. It was newer and smarter than our house. I got my own room, overlooking the Angel Inn, and Tanya had the room next door. It took us a few days to get used to the place, but I began to think we might be OK there. It was closer to where Daniel lived, so he carried on coming over every evening, just as he had at home. Alan liked him, and was happy for him to come - they would share a beer together and watch football on TV.

I settled in, but Tanya didn’t like being at Alan’s and wasn’t getting on with Mum. She was rowing with her all the time, blaming her for us being taken into care. One evening Mum dragged Tanya off the sofa by her hair, screaming at her that she had no right to judge. Within two weeks of us moving in, they’d had an even bigger row and Mum kicked Tanya out. ‘Don’t think you’ll be coming back,’ she spat, throwing a bag of Tanya’s things out of the door after her, ‘because you won’t.’

Tanya, who was now just seventeen, had dumped Danny and was seeing a boy called Pete, a friend of Daniel’s. Pete had been in the navy but had been discharged after his leg was injured. He had a flat of his own, so Tanya went to live with him. Tanya and Mum refused to make up, but I used to go round and see Tanya. Mum didn’t seem to mind that and I liked it round at Pete’s place, because it got me away from Mum’s constant demands and criticisms.

By the time I had been going out with Daniel for over a year, he still hadn’t asked me to sleep with him. He always treated me with kindness and respect; it was as if he knew that he needed to be patient with me and wait for the right time. I hadn’t told him about the things that had happened to me in the past; he had never pressed me on anything and I was grateful. He seemed happy to spend every evening with me, hold hands and kiss, and I was happy with that too. His gentle approach was like an antidote to the cruel, abusive treatment I’d suffered before and his loyalty and patience helped me to trust him, when I had never been able to trust any man before.

When he told me, one day that summer, that he was house-sitting while his parents and sisters were on holiday and wanted to throw a party, I was really pleased. I thought it would make a nice change from sitting in front of the TV. We asked Tanya and Pete and a few other friends over, got some beers in and sorted out some music.

As we were getting everything ready, Daniel put his arms round me and asked me to stay with him that night. I thought for a moment, and then said I would. I wasn’t sure how I felt about having sex. After so many awful experiences, I couldn’t really imagine it being anything other than an ordeal. But I knew Daniel would be kind and understanding, and I wanted to be with him.