Mummy, Make It Stop (8 page)

We agreed it would be great, both of us grinning and excited because it made us feel a bit special. We spent the evening watching television and laughing and joking, although Terry was very edgy about when we should be going to bed. Finally he decided it was time and told us both that our nighties were upstairs in his room.

He explained that I would be sleeping downstairs on the couch and Tanya would be in the spare room. I couldn’t understand why I was downstairs, because I knew there was another empty bedroom. But I felt it would be rude to ask, so Tanya and I scampered upstairs and got ready for bed, and she went into her room, while I went back down to the living room. Terry handed me a quilt, said goodnight and then made his way up the stairs, turning the lights off as he went.

It was cold and I struggled to get comfortable as I tossed and turned, curled up in a ball. The only light I could see seeped in through the sides of the front door, from the street lamps outside. I wondered if Tanya had got to sleep and wished that I could be up there with her. We often got into the same bed at home, just to be close and to keep warm. It was comforting; I felt safer when I was with Tanya.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get to sleep. Although I was happy to be at Terry’s, I was a little scared, downstairs on my own. So I was still awake when I saw a shadow in the hall, and heard soft footsteps. I was frightened, until I realised it was Terry. He came in and sat on the couch near my feet, resting his hand on my leg on top of the quilt.

‘You OK, Louise?’ he whispered.

‘Yeah,’ I whispered back.

His hand slipped under the quilt and onto my leg, gently holding and stroking it. It felt nice at first, but as his hand moved upwards to rest on my stomach I began to feel uncomfortable. His hand moved back down to my legs, which were curled up, and pulled them straight. Then he slid his head under the quilt. I could feel his hands running over me, stroking and rubbing me up and down.

I froze. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know how. I could feel his head between my legs and then a burning, painful sensation as his fingers entered me and began moving around inside me. I was in turmoil. Why was Terry doing the things that George had done?

I didn’t want Terry to go to prison like George. Mum liked him, and she was nicer to us when he was around. Tanya and I liked him. Jamie liked him. He bought us presents, made Mum happier, made us laugh, gave us sweets, and gave me the one thing that I craved - attention.

So I lay silent, trying to pretend I was somewhere else, as Terry pushed his tongue into me, licking me and prodding at me with his fingers. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours until he finally stopped. Then he got up and walked off, without saying anything, leaving me in the darkness, alone, scared and confused. It was a long time before I managed to get to sleep.

The next morning, Terry and Tanya came down the stairs together, both looking cheerful. I looked towards Tanya to try to catch her eye, wondering if Terry had been to see her in the night too, but she was drifting off into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

‘What do you want for breakfast, Louise?’ Terry called, smiling at me over his shoulder.

‘Anything,’ I called back, trying hard to sound as though I was fine. I didn’t want Terry to think I didn’t like him, so I jumped up out of bed and joined them in the kitchen and the three of us had toast and cereal as though nothing at all had happened.

After that, we began staying the night at Terry’s at least once or twice a week. And every time, Terry made me sleep downstairs, then appeared in the night and repeated what had happened that first night. Every time I lay awake, filled with dread, hoping he wouldn’t come. But he always did.

I didn’t know whether Terry was doing the same things to Tanya that he was doing to me. I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t know how. It wasn’t until I went up to the bathroom one morning and, through the open bedroom door, saw Tanya in Terry’s bed that I realised it must be happening to her too. Terry shot across the room to close the door, but I had seen. Later I was to learn that he was not only doing the same to her, but that Tanya was actually sleeping in the same bed as him most nights that we stayed with him.

Despite the misery of those nights, I carried on going to his house, because I knew it was what everyone wanted. Mum and Terry both liked the arrangement and I didn’t want to upset things. I told myself that at least Terry was nice to us. He got films for us to watch - his favourite was
Dirty Dancing
; he said it made him feel nice. And he gave us all kinds of gifts and presents. At first we used to get toys and sweets. But as the weeks went past, the presents for me and Tanya changed. Terry stopped bringing us teddy bears and dolls and began buying clothes and make-up and taking us to have our hair done. On one occasion he took Tanya to the hairdresser and she came back with her hair permed. Mum loved it and said she looked so grown-up.

We both loved having new clothes instead of the hand-me-down tracksuit bottoms and t-shirts we were used to. Terry bought us short little tops that showed off our bellies and short skirts. We had clean white socks instead of the old dirty knee socks we had been used to. Terry even took us both shopping for bras, although at seven and ten we certainly didn’t need them.

Tanya was his favourite and he showered her with gifts. We both spent a great deal of time at his house, it was our second home, and because of this, and the gifts, I felt I had to keep quiet about his night-time visits to me. I couldn’t spoil it for everyone; Mum would hate me, and I was afraid Tanya would too. And in a funny way I even liked the attention Terry gave me. I told myself that he might buy Tanya chocolates and loads of gifts, but it was me he loved because he came down to see me at night when she was asleep. I was so starved of affection and my mind had been so twisted that I had no idea what was right or wrong or normal. I didn’t know any different. I thought this was happening to all little girls - not just me. After all, Mum wanted us to be over there, so it had to be OK. And we wanted to please Mum, so even when I began to feel I’d rather not go to Terry’s, I went anyway.

We were still having visits from Anna and going to family therapy sessions, and Mum decided that as Terry was now around so much, he should come too. She told social services that Terry was part of the family and that he should be involved, and when they refused she argued with Anna about it. The next time we went, she brought Terry anyway. He came in and sat down with all of us and there wasn’t much Anna could do, though she did ask him to leave the room while she asked us some questions.

A few months after Terry moved in across the road, Mum started seeing a new boyfriend. She’d had a few passing boyfriends over the months, but this one seemed more serious. His name was John, and Mum was really smitten. He seemed nice, though we didn’t see much of him; he always seemed to come round while we were at school, or out playing, or over at Terry’s. Terry and Mum were as friendly as ever, he didn’t seem bothered about her having a boyfriend. The only thing that changed was that we spent more time than ever over at his house, because it gave Mum a chance to be with John.

By the time Mum had known him for four months she was talking about getting married. I hated the idea of someone else moving in - it was nicer with just Mum and us. And John had two children of his own, who lived with him - I couldn’t see how we’d all fit in.

One day Anna Smithson called on us. She made it through the front door and was in the kitchen with Mum while we were in the front room watching television. Anna explained to Mum that one of the neighbours had made calls to social services about Tanya and me and our frequent visits over to see Terry, and had said that he was developing an inappropriate relationship with us.

Mum refused to have any of it. She opened the back door and shouted, ‘The neighbours want to mind their bloody business. ’ Then she marched out through the hall and opened the front door, nodding at Anna to leave. Anna, realising that Mum was about to erupt, was out of the door in a flash. Mum slammed the door behind her and stomped off into the kitchen, cursing under her breath. She didn’t want anyone interfering with her arrangements with Terry. She wasn’t interested in what might be going on, she just wanted the goodies that Terry still showered on her. She certainly wasn’t about to let some know-all from social services spoil the fun.

Several times after this, Anna raised concerns about Terry’s relationship with us. She would ask us about it, but we always looked at Mum before we answered, aware that we mustn’t say the wrong thing. We didn’t want to upset her and get into trouble, and we trusted her too. If she said it was OK, then it must be. We heard Anna advising Mum, over and over again, to stop us going to Terry’s, but she ignored it and carried on just as before.

The neighbour might have been worried, social services might have been on alert, but our mum wasn’t bothered at all.

Chapter Six

By the time I turned eight and Tanya was eleven we looked like Barbie dolls. Our nails were painted, our faces were plastered with make-up and we wore mini-skirts, bras and tight, revealing tops.

Mum thought we looked great. She couldn’t see a thing wrong with her daughters resembling two miniature hookers. She carried on encouraging Terry to buy us the kind of clothes and make-up that should have had an X-rating.

We were still going down to the social services offices every month, for our therapy session with the child and family team, which included Anna Smithson. She and the rest of the team had been expressing concerns for a while, but Mum just brushed them away and said that we loved our new look. And of course we did - we thought it was great to look so grown-up and to be allowed make-up. We thought it made us a bit special, and it felt nice to be special.

One day we turned up at social services and Anna failed to recognise Tanya at all. Her hair had been permed and she was wearing a push-up bra - despite the fact that she hadn’t really got anything to be pushed up - a tight mini-skirt and high heels.

Anna looked grim, and asked Mum if she thought it was appropriate for Tanya to look like that. ‘Yeah,’ Mum grinned. ‘She looks about eighteen, doesn’t she? Not like other kids.’

‘I think that’s the problem,’ Anna said quietly. ‘An eleven-year-old should look her age.’

‘Rubbish,’ Mum sniffed. ‘She looks great.’

Anna said nothing; she just looked worried as she carried on with our session, asking us how we all were. Tanya and I said what we always said - that we were fine and we liked Terry and everything was good. What else were we going to say? We knew that Mum would be livid if we gave away anything that spoiled her arrangement with Terry and took away her free goodies and convenient childcare. And besides, Terry now often came with us to the meetings. Every time he turned up with us Anna would say that the meeting was for family only, but Mum would just say that if Terry couldn’t come too we were all leaving. Anna would be exasperated, but she had to give in or Mum would just march us all out. She called all the shots.

So Terry would sit and chat to Anna, just like one of the family, and we would all tell her that everything was fine. What else could we do?

But the truth was that everything was far from fine. Terry was still abusing both me and Tanya, whenever he could get Mum to let us stay the night. And Mum was only too willing, because it gave her the freedom to see her boyfriend and go out. She sent us over the road two or three times a week. And we went, without any objection. I hated what Terry did to us, and Tanya did too, but we knew it made Mum happy, and we did like the presents and treats we got at his house.

Jamie, who was ten, still came to the sessions, but he was becoming more and more reluctant and Mum was having trouble with him. Despite being so young, he was often violent and destructive, smashing things and lashing out at Mum, physically and verbally. He was excluded from school for scratching cars in the teachers’ car park, and now he had started roaming the estate causing all kinds of trouble. He was regularly stealing car stereos, shoplifting and breaking into local houses to rob them. The police were often at our house, wanting to question him about yet another crime, but half the time Jamie had done a bunk and they couldn’t find him.

He would sit sullenly through the sessions, refusing to talk to Anna and staring out of the window. And more often than not, Paul refused to come at all. He was fifteen and running wild. He did as he wanted and spent most of his time away from the house, seldom coming back, even at night. He had a gang of mates, but they weren’t real friends. They bullied him and hit him and took his things and he put up with it because they were all he had.

By the time the Christmas holidays arrived, very little had changed. It was now over two years since George had gone to prison, and almost as long since we had met Terry. We had been handed from one abuser to the next, and despite all the attention we were getting from social services, no-one had worked out what was going on, or stepped in to stop it.

I was restless and bored in the holidays. Sometimes I played outside with some of the other kids on the estate, but I didn’t have as many friends as Tanya did. I was less outgoing than I had been a couple of years earlier, my confidence had been crushed by all that had happened and I found it hard to talk to people. Tanya was so good at it - she was always more talkative and better at making friends than I was and she had a crowd of friends she hung out with. The boys were always out all day and I hadn’t a clue where they were. Terry was at work, and Mum was usually to be found sitting in front of the TV, eating and drinking, or playing cards with Auntie Carol and Nanna. She wasn’t interested in me - unless it was to order me to make them all butties or cups of tea. I used to get out of the house to avoid them all ordering me about and laughing at me, but then I’d find myself wandering around, scuffing my shoes and looking for someone to play with. I yearned for any bit of attention I could get.