by Fox, Louise
George would make you pull down your pants, and then kneel down and lean over the bottom bunk-bed. Then he’d hit you with the belt, sometimes using the buckle end, until your tender skin was a mass of welts and cuts.
We all dreaded the beatings, and we all got beaten, no matter how hard we tried to be good. Tanya once got beaten for breaking a vase when she hadn’t been near it. But it was Paul who suffered most. He was our half-brother - Mum had him when she was nineteen, before she met our dad - and both she and George seemed to have it in for him even more than for the rest of us. Nothing he ever did was right, and he was beaten more often and more viciously.
Virtually the only time George ever left the house was once a week, on Saturdays, when we all went to his mum’s house for lunch. We called her Nanna Gladice. She was very small and old and was partially blind and hard of hearing, so we always had to talk loudly to her. She had a cup which beeped, so that she could find it, and I was fascinated by it.
His brother, Trevor, would be there too. I liked these outings, because George’s mum and brother were both really nice. His mum would fuss over us, making beans on toast for lunch and giving each of us 50p.
On the way home from Nanna Gladice’s we would go to Morrisons and do the shopping, which we would all help to carry home. Sometimes we kids got a booty bag each - a bag with sweets and little toys in it. I loved those booty bags and used to look forward to them all week. When we got home I would go up to my room to open mine, looking excitedly to see what I’d got. Sometimes there was a little colouring book and crayons, sometimes a little plastic toy. I would sit on my bed playing with them for hours.
Once a month or so, George’s children, Chelsea and Lauren came over. They lived ten minutes away, so we’d walk over and collect them on our way to visit Nanna Gladice. We waited at their house while they got ready, and I was fascinated by what a mess it was. Their mum, Sue, had pots and pans all over the kitchen and clutter absolutely everywhere. They had a massive fish tank and a big, scary dog that bounded all over the place. It was so different from our house that I wondered how George and Sue had ever managed to be married.
Chelsea was the same age as Jamie - and, just like him, she was plump - although she was actually friendlier with Paul. Lauren was the same age as Tanya. They seemed all right, but we never really got to know them, because they were only with us for three or four hours and for most of that time George would be organising what everyone was doing. He would make a big effort to be pleasant and charming in front of them and we’d all have to play a game together, like Monopoly. After that we’d have tea at the table, and George would help to make it, keen to make a good impression on his kids.
They never stayed the night, and years later I discovered that this was because George had been caught masturbating in front of them. They were protected from him - yet he had been allowed to move in with us and we had no protection from him at all.
After Chelsea and Lauren went, the games would be put away, the table pushed back into place, the smile would vanish from George’s face and he would go back to snapping and snarling at us. This dramatic change in him, the minute his kids were out of the door, made it crystal clear just how little George thought of us.
These Saturday routines - lunch and shopping, or games and tea on the days George’s kids came over - were the only little bit of normality we had as a family. Afterwards it was back to silence and fear and beatings.
I was only five, but I felt that my life was like being on a train in a dark tunnel that wasn’t going to come to an end, so there would never be light again. I used to cope by switching off and going into my own world, a world where no-one hurt me, where I got hugs and kindness and where I could feel happy and loved and wanted.
Chapter Two
The best days for me were the ones when I was allowed to go to school. Tanya could take or leave school, Paul hated it and Jamie wasn’t too keen, but I loved it - it always smelled nice and I felt happy there, even though I never really fitted in or made any real friends.
It wasn’t just that I preferred sitting in the classroom to being at home, at George’s mercy. There was something about school that drew me like a magnet; I loved the idea of learning.
Catton Primary School was a short journey away from our house - go up a couple of narrow lanes between the houses and along two streets and you were there. I walked the ten-minute journey with Tanya and Jamie, though he would often bunk off and go to his friends’ houses. Paul was already at the secondary school, so he went a different route.
Our day would always start with a visit to the shop round the corner from our house. We would wait for a couple of other people to go in and follow them. Jamie would keep a lookout and then, while the shopkeeper was busy with the other customers, Tanya and I would stuff any goodies we could reach into our coats and up our sleeves. I wasn’t very good at it in the beginning, and I’d come out with almost nothing. But I soon caught on and we’d come out of the shop with pockets full of sweets and crisps and biscuits and keep them there all the way to school, when we’d hide them in our coats while we went into class.
The school was huge; most of the kids from the three surroundings estates went there. And the classes were big too. We had a nice young teacher who was very kind. But I hid at the back of the class. I felt shy and afraid of being asked to do anything in case I messed it up. I used to sit with my head down and go bright red if anyone spoke to me. Once the teacher asked me to read out loud and I stood looking at the book, blushing and stuttering as I tried to get the words out. She didn’t ask me again after that.
Lessons were often confusing for me, because I missed so much school. Things often made no sense to me, and I was forever trying to catch up. But rather than helping me, the teacher would often tell me not to worry about trying to join in, preferring me to sit there and draw or just watch everyone else. It was a shame, because I wanted to learn. I didn’t want to be different from everyone else.
I thought I was thick. It was many years before I realised that I was actually pretty bright, and could have done well if I’d had the chance. Despite missing so much school, I had learned to read by the time I was five. And I liked maths and wasn’t bad at sums.
I was generally either ignored or bullied by the other kids. Being away half the time, I never had a chance to really fit in. And they could see that I was different. A lot of us were poor, but I was the only one in grubby, stained clothes and worn-out shoes.
There were two playgrounds - one for the older kids and another for the younger ones. Tanya was in the older half, so I didn’t get to see her at breaktimes very often. Mostly I would sit on a wall in the corner of the infants’ playground, watching all the other children playing - chasing each other, kicking balls around and skipping. No-one asked me to play, and mostly I didn’t mind - I was content just watching. I was used to being on my own, keeping quiet and not saying much - that was how we had to live our lives at home, so I didn’t expect it to be different at school and I didn’t expect anyone to ask me to play, or want to be my friend. I longed to have friends and to be popular like Naomi Watson - who was so good at running that she won medals for it - or as pretty as Amber Smith. But I was a small, plump kid and I hardly ever spoke, because I didn’t know what to say to people. So they tended to ignore me, or if they did decide to talk to me, it was to call me names and pick on me.
I was jealous of all the girls around me. They looked so nice in their pretty ankle socks, shiny black patent shoes and lovely dresses. I wore shoes with holes in them, dirty over-the-knee socks that I rolled down to make them look like ankle socks, and a threadbare dress that had seen better days. My blonde hair was never brushed and George had cut it into a bob with a straight fringe two inches too short, making it look as if my forehead was too big. Yet another excuse for everyone to have a good laugh at me.
Sometimes I was jealous of Tanya too. She was slim and dark-haired and pretty, and although she had to wear the same tatty old c
lothes as me, she was a lot more confident and somehow managed to make plenty of friends. I wished I could be like her, but I just didn’t know how. Tanya never seemed lost for words, she didn’t go bright red if someone spoke to her, and she wasn’t afraid to join in the other kids’ games.
I loved Tanya. She was the person I was closest to in the world. Although I got jealous of her, and sometimes we fought and fell out, most of the time we were pals. We shared a room, and sometimes even a bed. If I was feeling sad or scared, Tanya would let me climb in beside her. I always felt a bit stronger if she was close by.
Perversely, George would make us go to school if we were ill. On one occasion I had caught impetigo and Mum had covered my mouth and chin completely in Gentian Violet, a bright purple ointment that was supposed to get rid of it. That day I was made to go to school. I cried and cried, saying I couldn’t go, but George took great delight in saying that I wasn’t staying at home with him looking like that. I hid for most of the time in the cloakrooms as the rest of the kids went about their normal day. But I couldn’t avoid everyone - some of them saw me and laughed their heads off at the way I looked, and I wished I could just melt through the floor and disappear.
The only time I had a taste of what it was like to be popular was when I pulled out the goodies I had stolen from the shop. I would bring them into the playground and then beam with delight as more and more kids crowded round to see what I had brought in that day. I loved the attention and milked every minute of it, trying to buy as many friends as I could as I handed out my biscuits and crisps. But no sooner had the last biscuit gone than so had all the kids and I would be left standing on my own. I’d go back to my usual spot on the wall in the corner of the schoolyard and watch everyone else play and laugh and have fun.
Then, one day, something amazing happened. I had been handing out Bourbon biscuits to everyone when I noticed that for the first time Amber Smith was in the group of people reaching out to me. I had always admired Amber - she always looked so clean and pretty and happy. She had loads of friends, seemed to know everyone and everyone knew and liked her.
My packet was almost empty, so I quickly grabbed one and handed it to Amber, smiling and hoping that she would smile back and stand near me for a minute longer. For a moment I felt a glow of happiness - one of the most popular girls in our year was standing with me.
As my last Bourbon was snatched away, the crowds disappeared, leaving me alone on my wall. Then Amber walked past me and handed me an envelope, saying, ‘You can come over earlier if you want to play at my house.’ I couldn’t believe it. What did she mean?
I stood there staring at the envelope. My name was written clearly on the front in black pen. The envelope was pink, with fairies on the front and little clouds on the back. It looked so pretty I didn’t want to rip it so I spent the rest of the morning break carefully pulling it open, a tiny bit at a time. When at last I opened the folded piece of paper inside I could hardly believe it. It was an invitation to Amber’s birthday party the following week.
That afternoon I ran home feeling so excited. As soon as I got in, I told Mum about the invitation. She looked irritated and snapped, ‘Don’t expect to take a present for her. And you’ll have to get someone to take you there, because I’m not.’ My whole body deflated. I should have known that Mum wouldn’t care. But at least she had said I could go. For the next few days I hugged that thought to me.
On the day of the party, a Saturday, I woke up earlier than normal in anticipation, my head spinning with excitement. I tried to imagine the party; I had never been to anyone’s house before, and I had certainly never been to a party. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was sure it would be lovely.
To my relief, Mum had got a card for me to give to Amber. At least I wouldn’t have to turn up with nothing. I didn’t have anything nice to wear - just an old skirt with the same old long socks I had to wear for school and my school shoes with holes in them. But even that didn’t dampen my spirits. By noon I was so excited I barely knew what to do with myself. I told Mum that Amber had said I could go earlier and play at her house before the party started, hoping that I could go really early. But Mum said no, and that I wouldn’t be going anywhere until the party started.
I was beside myself with disappointment. I went to my room and sat on the bed. Why couldn’t I go? I was desperate to go, no-one had ever wanted me to come and play before. Then I thought of a plan. What if I went early, and Mum didn’t know? I could just pretend I was playing outside, and then sneak off. I didn’t know where to go, but that was OK, because she had told me to get someone to take me.
As the time approached, I told Mum I was going to play out for while and she said OK. Then I went and found Paul, who was hanging about outside, and told him that Mum had said that he had to walk me to the party, as it was across the park. He agreed and we set off.
As we made our way across the park, my heart was jumping. I had never felt so excited and I didn’t even think about what would happen if Mum found out I had defied her. I thought my plan was foolproof.
Paul dropped me off at the bottom of Amber’s street and I walked along, looking at the house numbers, until I saw hers. The street was much smarter than any I had seen before, and as I went up towards the front door my excitement gave way to nerves. The garden looked as though someone had spent a lot of time caring for the plants and making sure everything seemed just perfect. I stopped for a moment and gazed at it, thinking how pretty the flowers were.
As I approached, I saw Amber at the front window. I waved, and she came rushing to open the door for me. She looked beautiful in a gorgeous party dress with little white ankle socks and patent shoes. Her blonde hair was shiny and I wanted to touch it because it looked so nice and soft. She was beaming from ear to ear and yelled at me to come on inside.
The house was just as nice on the inside as it was on the outside. It felt warm and welcoming and as I stood in the hall I could see through the open doors that the rooms were painted in lovely colours and were full of beautiful things. On the hall wall was a picture of Amber and her family all sitting together, with her mum and dad’s arms around her and her brother. They all looked so happy and cared for.
Just then Amber’s mum appeared in the hallway.
‘Hi, you must be Louise,’ she said, smiling.
Nervously, I nodded and tried to smile back. Her voice was so calm and gentle and she was smiling at me, even though she didn’t know me. Why would she be like that? Mum and George were never like that - they always seemed agitated by us kids and we wouldn’t have dared ask any other child back to our house.
Amber’s mum was so kind that I soon began to relax. Just then, Katie, another girl from school, turned up and Amber’s mum suggested we go upstairs to play until the rest of the children arrived.
Amber’s room was wonderful. She had a bunk-bed and desk all in one, with the bed bit at the top. My eyes were racing around the room, spotting Barbie dolls, prams, games and loads of stuff I had always dreamed of having. I had asked every year for the last three years for a Barbie doll for my birthday or for Christmas, but it never came. I could hardly believe that Amber had several.
She had fairies all over her wallpaper and a border in pink and purple going all round her room. I thought it looked just like a little girl’s room should. I felt so happy. Amber and her mum seemed to like me and want to be with me and I wished I could stay with them forever.
Katie and I sat on the floor and Amber showed us the presents she’d got from her family. I couldn’t help but feel jealous at the array of lovely things she had. I had never known anything like that. In our house birthdays were a non-event. We were lucky to get a small present. Usually we just got a fiver, but somehow the money was always ‘borrowed’ back by Mum, so I never got to spend it.
When the other children arrived we went downstairs. The rooms were decorated with birthday banners and ribbons, balloons were tied up everywhere and there must have been about twelve or th
irteen birthday cards on the window sill - and that was before any of Amber’s school friends’ cards had been added. The kitchen table had a princess tablecloth with ‘happy birthday’ written across it, and paper plates lay on place-mats ready for the piles of gorgeous-looking party food laid out on the table. There were several adults there and they were smiling and talking to each other calmly - no-one was shouting or fighting or pointing aggressively, like our Mum did.
Amber’s mum kept coming up to her and touching her shoulders gently and hugging her, or kissing her forehead. I watched her, fascinated and filled with longing, wishing that she would hug and kiss me too. I had never been treated that way by anyone, Mum never hugged or kissed me, not even on my birthday or at Christmas, though I often wished she would. Sometimes when I was feeling really down I would sit next to her and start to try to nudge myself under her arm and onto her knee, hoping she would give me a hug or a cuddle, but she would just push me away and tell me to sit somewhere else. I never felt that she really liked me.
The party was just getting going, and we were about to play a game, when Amber’s dad came into the room. Smiling kindly, he took me quietly to one side and told me my brother was downstairs and that I had to go home straight-away.
I stared at him, horrified. Surely I wasn’t going to have to leave this lovely place, the wonderful party I had looked forward to so much and that had barely got started? Surely Mum wouldn’t be so unkind?
I wanted it to be some kind of mistake. I looked towards Amber, hoping she would plead with me to stay, but she was lost in her new toys and surrounded by friends.
I walked slowly downstairs behind Amber’s dad, trying to put off the moment when I would have to leave this magical place and go back to face what I knew was coming.