The Prison Doctor
Page 19
What can you say to something like that? It was so far removed from the happy family life I’d grown up with. It’s horrible to think that while you’re getting hugs from your mum and your dad, someone somewhere else is watching their mum being beaten within a breath of her life. But that is life. And thanks to working in prisons, I finally had my eyes opened to what really goes on out there.
‘It didn’t stop there,’ Trudy explained. ‘Mum remarried not long after. She thought she had a good man in Carl, but he turned out to be just as bad as my dad. I was four when he first started touching me.’
‘Oh, Trudy.’ I shook my head in despair.
‘Yeah, it was pretty bad, but I didn’t know any better, you know? And my mum thought everything was okay because when I went up to bed I’d say, “Goodnight dad”, as if he was my real father. As if I was happy.
‘It was my fault for not speaking up.’
I quickly cut in. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You were only a child.’
Trudy pulled her sleeves over her hands, nervously.
‘I should have told her, but I really thought it was normal. I thought rape, and violence, was just how families were.
‘It moved from touching to full sex and I begged him to stop because he was hurting me. That’s when he turned violent. He would hit me and threaten me. He said for every time I tried to stop him, he would beat my mum.’
Her voice cracked. ‘What could I do?
‘So I just let him.’
She looked down at her hands, tugged her sleeves, fighting the fabric that wouldn’t stretch any further.
And then, with venom in her eyes, she said, ‘When he was bored of me, he started bringing his friends around.’
Horrified, I clutched my hand over my mouth.
‘He kept me off school so his friends could come over when my mum was out. She was working three jobs to keep us all.
‘They took it in turns.’ She paused. Then, her voice so low, so dead, she said, ‘They all had a go, Doc.’ She snorted. ‘Well, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’
She shrugged and stared at the ground.
‘Did you ever have counselling?’ I asked.
‘Nah.’
‘Did you ever tell anyone what happened to you?’
‘Yeah,’ she replied, with disdain. ‘I told my ex, the fella who beat me up for all those years. I was high one night, and feeling vulnerable, and finally opened up to him. I thought he would be there for me.’
‘But he wasn’t?’
‘Was he hell! He just used it against me. Every time I ran away after he beat me up, he threatened that if I didn’t come back, he would tell my sister that her dad was a paedophile. I didn’t want to hurt my sister, because Carl had never touched her. I was terrified she wouldn’t want to know me any more, and she was pretty much all the family I had left.
‘And do you know the worst bit of it all is, Doc?’ Trudy said.
‘It wasn’t the beatings, it wasn’t the abuse. It was the fact that later in life, my mum got back together with my real dad. I was so angry we had gone through all of that pain and abuse for nothing.
‘Nothing!’ She spat out the words
We both sat in silence for a moment. I could see there was still a lot of hurt and anger buried within Trudy.
‘Are you still with your partner now?’ I asked.
‘No, I finally left him. I also found the courage to tell my mum what happened to me.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She just feels really guilty. Says she didn’t know, but I think she didn’t want to see it. I don’t hate her for it, though. I understand she was abused too.’
She fell silent for a moment, looking off to one side, thinking. Then, the last thing I would have ever have imagined: a huge smile spread across her face.
‘The most wonderful thing is that I finally found love. Real love. I have hope of a future. I’m so pleased to be in prison. To have a chance to get clean. I know you won’t believe me, Doc, but I’m happy to be in here. I can stop pretending. It’s over.’
She shook her head and said it again. ‘It’s over.’
That same look of relief Trudy had when she first sat down, washed back over her. She stopped tugging at her sleeves, she stopped scowling – her body relaxing.
‘This is my chance to get myself off the drugs. To get me back.
‘Will you help me Doc?’
It was music to my ears. ‘Of course I will. How long do we have?’
‘Eighteen months. I was using so much I’d got myself into debt, and I ended up dealing because I couldn’t face the alternative.’
I knew what she was going say.
‘I take my hat off to the girls who sell their bodies, but I couldn’t do it. Not after everything I’d been through. I just couldn’t.’
I nodded understandingly. I knew the story only too well.
‘Yeah, hats off to them, but I couldn’t.’
I began tapping away on my keyboard. ‘So what are we going to do with your methadone?’
Before coming into prison, Trudy had been on a 70ml script, and was using heroin on top of that. Clearly, she had a big habit. We agreed a slow detox plan, as she had plenty of time. I also reassured her that if she was struggling at any point we could slow things down even further.
Trudy nodded politely. ‘I was hoping you would say that. I don’t want to do it fast. I have over a year to get off it.’
As she got up to leave, she suddenly remembered something.
‘I almost forgot!’ Trudy exclaimed. ‘I’m seeing a psychiatrist and she has diagnosed me with post traumatic stress. I’m going to a trauma group every Friday. It’s nice because there are other ladies in there who have been through similar stuff to me.’
‘I am so happy for you, Trudy,’ I smiled.
‘A lot of people used to come to me with their problems, because I’m an easy-going person. I talk to anyone. I listen. Now, finally, it’s me that’s getting some help,’ she said,
Suddenly, she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around me. In that brief moment that we hugged I could feel the happiness pour out of her. It was sad that Trudy saw prison as her only sanctuary, but at the same time I could see determination in her eyes – something I’m sure she wouldn’t have had if she hadn’t been sentenced to Bronzefield.
‘You’re such a lovely person,’ I said. ‘It’s incredible how you functioned through all that horrific abuse, and the thought of you ending up on a lovely little boat somewhere fills me with joy.’
Trudy burst into laughter. ‘I can see myself diving for shellfish. A little dog sitting on the end of the boat.’ Flashing me a smile, she added, ‘And my hunky man on the beach, fixing things.’
She carried that smile with her out of my door, and I was left feeling hopeful, too. I had over a year to help Trudy wean herself off methadone and, combined with the counselling, there was every chance she could leave Bronzefield with no drugs in her system, and no desire to go back on them when she returned to society. It was my goal to make her dream become a reality.
It was at that moment, that very second, that I realised I had reached my happy place. I had never had so much job satisfaction in all of my life. My journey to get there had been colourful, but I couldn’t have been more fulfilled.
I felt and hoped that I was making a difference to these women’s lives, which gave me joy and a sense of purpose. And as long as I was needed, and I was making a difference, I would carry on working as doctor, as a counsellor and also, hopefully, as a friend to these women.
There was a knock on my door. A nurse popped her head in. The screaming, the shouting, the swearing from the prisoners outside, came in with her.
‘I’ve got your next patient here, Doc,’ she said.
I smiled. ‘Show her in.’
Acknowledgements
As I approach my 65th birthday, I am often asked by friends when I plan to stop work. The answer is always the same: when I stop
enjoying it. The trouble is I don’t think I ever will!
But, finally, when I do reach the end of my working road, and reflect on a lifetime of meeting and caring for hundreds of the most wonderful, fascinating people, from every possible walk of life, I will be at peace in the knowledge that the journey had been a truly magnificent one.
Thanks to Trudy, and to so very many of the wonderful women I have been lucky enough to meet and come to know in Bronzefield in the past few years. Trudy came to say goodbye to me before transferring to an open prison, after having successfully detoxed, and had transformed into a beautiful, confident woman. We had arrived at the end of our journey and embraced each other. She whispered, ‘You’ve been wonderful, I could never have done this without you.’ I feel that, just occasionally, I may have made some lives a little better. I am so grateful to everyone for that gift.
I would also like to thank my wonderful husband David for his never-ending love, support and belief in me. My beloved sons Rob and Charlie for the joy, love and purpose they bring to my life, and to my dearest sister Laurie for the lifelong memories and love we share.
Many thanks to Susan Smith and Rachel Kenny for their support and belief in this project. I would also like to thank Ruth Kelly and Guy Adams for their help in telling my story, Kate Fox and Ben McConnell, my editors, for their constant encouragement and guidance.
I have met wonderful people who have enriched my working life. Of special note are Paula and Siobhan who made working at Huntercombe such fun. Jas and Denise for sharing the good and the bad times at The Scrubs. Harriet and Dayna from Bronzefield who both kindly took pity on me and helped type out passages of the book when my fingers were tiring.
Lastly, to my wonderful friend Vanessa who has listened patiently to my stories over the past twenty-two years and encouraged me to write this book.
And thank you for reading this.
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