Mummy, Make It Stop (25 page)

We had a friend who said she might be able to get me a job in the clothes shop where she worked. A week later she told me I had an interview. I dressed smartly, made sure I wasn’t high, and got the job, working eleven to three, five days a week. This was it - my new start. Except that it wasn’t, because I was still taking drugs. I began calling in sick so often that I was soon in danger of getting the sack.

My life was falling apart. I could barely hold down my job, and with a lot less money coming in, I was broke. I was taking drugs and ruining my health. I was sending my kids to babysitters when I should have been there for them myself. And my relationship was miserable.

Neil was becoming more and more paranoid and jealous. He kept accusing me of seeing other men and checking for evidence. When he came in he would look in the ashtrays to see if there was an unfamiliar cigarette butt there. Of course there wasn’t, because I wasn’t seeing anyone else. But he wouldn’t believe it.

Then one day he let slip something that shook me badly. He had been behind the robbery in our last house. He had told the thieves, friends of his, when we would be out, so that they could kick the door in - and he’d taken a cut of the money they made. I stared at him, too shocked to speak. ‘What’s the problem?’ he drawled, a sick smile on his face. ‘Nobody got hurt.’

‘I did,’ I said. ‘The girls did. You betrayed us.’ Suddenly I saw him clearly. A rat who would sell us out for drug money.

‘Get out,’ I told him. ‘Get out and don’t come back.’ I was shaking. I knew he might turn on me, but I was so angry I didn’t care. When I realised Neil had robbed me, something in me snapped. I’d had enough - of him, of the way we were living, of drugs, and of being used.

Neil packed a bag and left that night. ‘I’m not bothered,’ he spat over his shoulder as he went out of the door. ‘I’m seeing someone else anyway.’

I didn’t care. She was welcome to him. It was just me and my girls now, and I was going to be there for them and give them the life they deserved. I had no idea how - but I knew I had to find a way.

Chapter Nineteen

For a couple of months, I carried on taking drugs. Then I realised that if things were really going to change, I had to stop.

It was harder than I thought.

Coming off drugs meant getting past my body’s craving for them. I was so used to being high that staying clean felt weird and flat. I paced around, drank endless cups of tea and smoked a lot. I tried to eat, but I had no appetite. I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I stared at the TV without seeing what was on and had to summon up all my energy to manage the girls.

A couple of times I slipped up, when friends urged me to take drugs. I realised I was going to have to change everything - including my friends. That was hard. I was still seeing Alison several times a week. But she was taking drugs every day, even when her small son was around. She laughed when I said I wanted to stop. So I began to cool off, making excuses not to go out, and I found another childminder. I still saw her - she would have the kids for me on Saturdays when Daniel’s mum didn’t have them - but I didn’t spend time with her the way I used to. It was really hard, because she meant a lot to me and I missed her. But I knew that if I was going to make it, I couldn’t be with people who were still taking drugs.

Instead of going out two or three nights a week, I cut back to just once a fortnight. I spent a lot more time with the girls, and I became more reliable at work, turning up regularly and on time.

I didn’t defeat all my demons at once. It was a hard slog. I was still working in the massage parlour on Saturdays, because my wage in the clothes shop just wasn’t enough to live on. And I did relapse and take drugs occasionally. But I was determined that I was going to stop completely, and every time I let myself down by taking them again, I vowed to try even harder. It was just a matter of time.

After Neil had been gone for four months, my life was beginning to feel very different. So when Alison asked me to go out with her one evening I said yes. I hadn’t been out with her for weeks, but I decided I felt strong enough to say no if drugs were around. I just wanted to let my hair down and have some fun.

It was just after Valentine’s Day, in 2004. We went to a couple of bars and then one of the town’s noisiest nightclubs, where we had a couple of drinks and a dance. I was laughing with Alison over a bit of gossip when I looked across the dance floor and saw a really fit-looking guy. He was looking at me, and when he caught my eye, he made his way over and offered to buy me a drink. He said his name was Matthew, and when we’d got our drinks we went over to a quieter spot to talk.

From the start I knew this guy was different. He was educated, intelligent, sensitive, thoughtful and funny. He seemed to really like me, but I couldn’t work out why. I didn’t think I was his type at all.

At the end of the evening we exchanged phone numbers. On the way home I told Alison how much I’d liked him. I wasn’t sure if he’d call me - we’d both had a few drinks and I thought he might change his mind in the cold light of day. But he didn’t - he called me and asked me out to lunch.

We met a couple of days later, in a restaurant in town, and I liked him even more than I had the first time. I told him I had two daughters and worked in a clothes shop. He told me he worked in the housing department of the local council, finding homes for families in need. He also told me about his very happy, loving family. His parents were still married, his dad had been an accountant all his life, they’d always gone to church every Sunday and he had a brother and sister he loved very much.

When he told me his brother was a head teacher, I was amazed. Matthew came from a world that was so different from mine, I just didn’t know if we could ever bridge the gap. He was a man with a serious, worthwhile job, from a good background. What would he think if he knew the truth about me?

We began seeing each other regularly. Matthew was so caring and interested in me that in many ways it felt strange. I’d never been around a man like that before. I was used to being ignored, used and put down. Now here was someone who gave me flowers and gifts and came over to walk me to work in the morning.

I should have been so happy, but instead I felt tortured. I was so afraid that if Matthew found out the truth about me, he would run a mile. Every time I saw him I thought about telling him, but I couldn’t face it. I wanted to hang on to just a little joy and normality and happiness before I burst the bubble.

I thought about not telling him at all. But I knew it wasn’t an option. It would have meant living with so many secrets. One day, somehow, he would learn the truth, and it would be worse if I had lied. Matthew was already asking to meet my family. What would he think of my mum, with her badly dyed hair, foul language and scarred arms? What would he think of my sister, who was still on the game? And, worst of all, what would he think of me, for becoming a prostitute and taking drugs?

Matthew wasn’t a saint, I knew that. It wasn’t that I put him on a pedestal. He was just a normal guy. But it made me realise - as if I didn’t know already - just how far from normal my own upbringing had been.

I decided that I had to tell him the truth before he met the girls. I’d kept him away from them, because I didn’t want to make it harder if we split up. I knew the girls would think he was great, and they’d been through enough already.

One day I decided I couldn’t leave it any longer. We’d been seeing each other for a couple of months, and I felt it was getting serious. That was great - I wanted serious, but not until he knew the truth. That evening we went out and I made sure we both drank quite a bit. I knew I couldn’t tell him if either of us was stone-cold sober.

Sitting in a wine bar, late in the evening, I told him some - not all - of my story. I owned up to being on the game - I had only given up Saturdays at the massage parlour after I met him - and to taking drugs.

Even cushioned by alcohol, he looked shocked. I could see it was hard for him to take it all in. After I’d told him, I said I was going home, to give him time to think. It was hard to walk away from him. I was afraid I’d never see him again. But I had to know if he would still want me now that he knew just how many mistakes I’d made.

I didn’t sleep that night. Matthew always texted me in the mornings, so I kept my phone by my side, knowing that if everything was still OK I’d get a wake-up text.

When it came, I jumped. I’d dozed off, exhausted, frightened and sad. I grabbed my phone.

‘Hi, babe,’ it said. ‘Are you OK after last night?’

I was relieved - but then the doubts set in. What if he didn’t remember? He’d had a few drinks, perhaps he’d just blotted it out.

When I saw him again that evening I was sick with nerves. He seemed quite normal, but I was edgy, anxious and tense.

‘You know,’ he said, taking my hand, ‘I remember everything. And it’s OK. I love you and nothing’s going to change that.’

That’s when I cried. For all the hurt and desperation and rejection I had suffered. And for the love of this wonderful, forgiving man, who still wanted me.

After that we went from strength to strength. I took him home to meet the girls, and of course they adored him. He played with them, told me they were gorgeous and said he knew he’d love them as if they were his own.

He took me to meet his family, and I thought they were as lovely as he’d made them sound. His parents accepted me as one of the family straight away - along with my girls.

Everything seemed to be going so well that some mornings I had to pinch myself. I hadn’t taken drugs since I’d met Matthew. Everything felt good, clean and new. I was being given another chance, and I was going to take it with both hands.

Then I missed a period.

I panicked. If I was pregnant would Matthew want to stay with me? We’d talked about children, but neither of us imagined it would be this soon. We hadn’t even made plans to live together.

In a daze, I got a test. It was positive. I plucked up the courage to tell him that night. He looked at me incredulously - then he leaped up and hugged me.

‘That’s wonderful,’ he said. ‘Let’s buy a house together. All I want is for you, me and the girls to be a family.’

‘Me too,’ I said, beaming.

The next few months weren’t easy. It was a much rougher pregnancy than the first two, and I felt constantly sick. I had to give up work because I was missing so much. But despite this, we managed to buy a lovely house, with four bedrooms, in a nice area.

I had always told Matthew how much I regretted leaving school with no qualifications. He encouraged me to go to college, to do ‘back to learning’ courses in English and maths. I did them while I was pregnant, and I loved learning again. It made me feel that maybe I could make something of my life.

In the spring of 2005 I went into labour. At first everything seemed to be going well. Matthew came with me to the hospital while a friend looked after the girls. But after several hours in labour I was told that the baby was in distress and they needed to do an emergency caesarean. I was rushed into the operating theatre, with Matthew by my side.

The next thing I remember was coming round to see Matthew holding our little girl. ‘She’s gorgeous,’ he said, as he put her into my arms. She was, and we called her Amy.

I was taken to the maternity ward and Amy was put into a cot beside me. A few hours later I drifted off to sleep, thinking how lucky I was to have another beautiful little girl.

That was the last thing I remember. In the following hours I became very ill. I had developed a serious infection and that night the doctors told Matthew that I might not survive.

I was a fighter - and I made it through the night and woke to find Matthew at my side. I was in intensive care, with needles and tubes sticking out of my feet and neck. It was two days before I could even talk. By then I had been moved to an ordinary ward, where I stayed for another nine days.

Thankfully, Rose looked after the older girls, while Matthew, who was on paternity leave, kept Amy with him. He looked after her on his own, changing her nappies, ringing his mum and asking her what he should do and then visiting me with her during the day.

I came home weak and tired and had to rest for the next few weeks. I was so grateful to have made it. After that, I wanted to be with the girls and Matthew as much as possible, just to appreciate what I had almost lost.

Emily and Sophie loved their little sister, and Matthew was wonderful. We’d moved home just before the birth, and in those weeks afterwards he looked after all of us and worked every spare hour decorating the girls’ rooms first and then the rest of the house.

Three months later, I was back on my feet, grateful to be alive and determined to make the most of all that I had. I wanted to get an education and a good job, but I didn’t know where to start - or whether I could really do it.

One afternoon Matthew took me out in the car. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked him, but he wouldn’t say. A few minutes later he pulled into the car park of the local further education college.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You’re always saying you want to study. Let’s go in and sign you up.’

He was right, I was always saying it, and so far all I’d done was the back to learning courses. I went inside, feeling very nervous, and signed up to start GCSE courses in English and maths the following September. I was on my way!