What Daddy Did (22 page)

Then, just as suddenly as I arrived, I decided to leave. A friend from Edinburgh came to visit me from time to time and, on one occasion, he persuaded me to go back, saying that I could get the same work as I had in Inverness, but in Edinburgh. So I upped and left. At first I shared his student accommodation in Old Dalkeith Road. It was all predictable – he used me for sex but rarely even took me out with him.

Eventually, I managed to get myself a job in the City Hospital, again with geriatrics and, again, with live-in accommodation. In complete contrast, I hated working there because the old people were put in a day room from morning till night with little or no stimulation, and were often drugged up with a mixture called a Brompton cocktail. I don't know what that was but I believe it had morphine in it, among other things. It was horrible. When I got the chance to apply for a job in a children's home I jumped at it. The next chapter in my life was about to begin.

MY ADULT LIFE, IN MANY
ways, began when I returned to Edinburgh following that brief period as a nurse in Inverness. I found myself working in a residential home for youngsters being admitted to care; youngsters who had experienced some of the horrors I recognised all too well from my own childhood. So many terrible things had happened to me as a child, and just one of those things should have warranted me being taken away from the situation I was in and protected.

Sometimes children would come into care and I would genuinely wonder why they were there. I can't be too specific here, but there were certain children who should have remained at home with the people who loved them. One child was looked after by two aunts who absolutely adored him but they had a problem dealing with his diabetes. As far as I was concerned, support should have been offered to them in the home rather than taking that poor child away. Another, more extreme, incident was a situation where three children were taken away from their mother after she stabbed their father. This woman had suffered sustained beatings by him, really horrific stuff, and she had finally blown. She was sentenced to seven years' imprisonment. This mother adored her children and they adored her. I felt very strongly that these children shouldn't have been made to pay for this 'crime' by losing their only surviving parent.

Then there were times when children – some as young as three – would be admitted in the middle of the night, having received terrible injuries at the hands of a parent or carer; injuries I recognised only too well. Many of the members of staff were able to comfort and console these children, hugging them and soothing them. I could play with them and do practical things for them, but I'd not yet learned how to hug them. I knew that I could hug Karen easily, but she was my little sister and that was different.

I realised that the anger I felt watching displays of affection came from the fact that I had a huge problem with close contact. It was almost as if I had to set myself challenges. My first task became clear – I had to learn to cuddle and accept physical closeness.

One of the girls who worked beside me was called Elaine. She was a beautiful tall girl with long curly red hair, reminiscent of a pre-Raphaelite painting. Elaine had a wonderful sense of humour and would always have us laughing at any opportunity. The most important thing of all was that she was one of those girls who thought nothing of hugging people. She would just come up and hug you for no reason! At first I found this difficult and I can recall feeling myself freeze, going absolutely rigid at this innocent display of genuine affection. As time went on, however, I grew more and more responsive to her hugs, and before long I was able not only to receive but to give as well.

Those few initial steps towards recognising how I needed to put myself together coincided with two other important developments in my life. First, I was put in charge of an art group in Canaan Lodge – the children's home – and received the first acceptance of my artistic talents I'd ever experienced. Second, I met my future husband.

Meeting Robert was my first big breakthrough. I adored him from the moment I saw him. First and foremost, I liked the look of him, especially his big brown soft eyes, the same eyes our daughter Claire has. As I got to know him, I liked his gentle ways most of all. He was intelligent and kind, and had no problem sharing his knowledge.

I used to go out with other members of staff at the children's home who were the same age – to the local pub or downtown to a disco. What was important here for me was that I was accepted. I was just like all the other young people. They had come from good homes and been reared with strong values but they didn't see the scars or the filth I felt was etched on me.

Robert played a huge part in my transformation. On one of our evenings out in the pub with all the others he asked me out on a date, a proper date! I was bowled over, excited and nervous, but I needn't have been. Our first date was wonderful. We met in a local pub and had a few drinks before going for a meal. It was so lovely, so normal. Robert walked me back to the children's home and was very gentlemanly throughout, even when he kissed me. He asked if we could go out again, and of course I said 'yes'.

The more we saw of each other, the more we fell in love. He never came on to me; he never asked anything of me and he would say lovely things to me. He told me that I was beautiful and that he adored me. These words were so alien to me, words I had never heard before. It was easy and wonderful and very, very normal. I never told him about my past because I didn't want anything to sully this special time. All that I told him was that we were very poor. Robert never asked any more than that as he just liked me for me.

This was my first real reciprocal adult relationship. It was also my first opportunity to discover that I could enjoy sex, although that took a long time to happen. When we eventually made love for the first time it was the most natural thing in the world because that's what it was – making love. Meeting Robert turned my life around. Just as importantly, he came with precious baggage – a loving family.

His Mum and Dad lived in a big detached house in the grounds of Greenlea Old People's Home where Robert's Dad was the officer in charge. As our relationship developed, I began living with them, although in a separate bedroom. When Bob and Flora heard that it was going to be my 21st birthday they said that they would like to throw a party for me. This was a revelation. As they had a big garden we decided it would be nice if we had a garden party, so that's what we did. There was a barbecue, a buffet and music outside. All my friends from work were there, as well as all of Robert's friends. It was a party that I had never seen the like of before, a proper, happy party with dancing and singing and lots and lots of fun. It was the party of my dreams and, to top it all, we then got engaged and moved into our own home together.

My life was finally beginning.

THE HAPPIEST MOMENTS OF MY
life are etched in my mind so deeply that I can call on them whenever life is hard and I feel at a low point. Those moments are my relationship and marriage to my first husband Robert, the births of my three children, and my achievements as an artist. These memories are magical – the times when I have truly been at my happiest.

I called on this magic throughout relationships that were threatening and abusive; and I called on it again when my world was being turned upside down by researching my past. Doing this reassured me that I had succeeded, and that I was entitled to wonderful experiences. I haven't enjoyed looking into my past because of the pain and distress it has caused me, and because so much of it is ugly and wrong, but it is comforting to know that some areas of my life – the areas I have had control over – have been good and rewarding.

I have been married twice. The two marriages – and weddings – were in stark contrast to each other. When I married Robert, I was young, happy and in love. I looked forward to my life with my husband, to building a home together and planning our future. I thought we would be a couple for ever. Robert proposed to me by getting down on one knee. We each chose a ring, and mine came from a little jeweller called Bassi in Bruntsfield, south Edinburgh. They designed and made all their own pieces, and I was so pleased to have a say in what my ring was to look like. I chose a tiny gold lovers' knot with two perfect diamonds sitting in each of the loops. It was such a pretty ring and I was overjoyed with it because it was the nicest thing I had ever owned. More importantly, it united me with the man I was madly in love with. The ring for Robert came from a jeweller in Edinburgh's Rose Street called Scott's. His was a masculine square band striped with yellow, red and white gold.

Robert had many friends from school and we would all meet as a big group to go to dances and parties or just to each other's houses. Sometimes we went on holiday together. Many of these friends got engaged and married at the same time as us, and we all loved to show off our engagement and wedding rings and talk about our plans.

Our wedding was very different from those of most of these friends. They had grand plans, and most of the girls had mothers who took them to look for dresses, organised invites and dealt with all the machinations that go into a wedding. Robert and I set about trying to organise it ourselves, and I think this was the first time it hit me how different I was from other people.

I didn't have a clue how to organise a wedding so I was fortunate to have a good friend called Maura who had worked with me in the children's home. Maura was a little bit older than me and was to be my maid of honour. She helped me look for a dress and for shoes and all the things that go with a girl's big day.

I have such fond memories of Maura. She was a lovely, kind person and great fun, almost like an older sister to me, given that I felt I no longer had my real one. She left the children's home because she wanted to start a family, but we kept in touch with each other. When she gave birth to twin boys I often travelled down on the bus to Penicuik where she lived to help her out; it was a struggle for her as one of the boys was quite poorly. Her husband was a wine merchant and had a cellar full of the most wonderful bottles. One time when I visited we opened one of these bottles of wine after a hard day of seeing to the twins' needs. When her husband came home from work and spotted the wine bottle almost empty, he said to us, 'Did you enjoy that, girls?' We'd thought it was wonderful, which was lucky given that he told us it was vintage and worth about £50, a fortune back then!

Robert's Dad organised and paid for our service and reception. With his help, we had the best wedding ever. We were married in Queen Street Registry Office on 12 June 1981, just a week after my 22nd birthday. I felt funny that day – happy, but odd. I was delighted that I was going to marry the man I loved, and I was so appreciative of all that his parents were doing, but I was obviously aware of the fact that I had no real family beside me on what should have been the happiest day of my life.