by Fox, Louise
‘I’m still at Cheryl’s,’ she said. ‘I look after the kids while she’s at work. Gerald doesn’t live with me, he’s got his own place up the road. He shares with some mates and I don’t want to live there - his friends are too wild. So Gerald comes to see me at my place.’
It was all a lot to take in. Tanya pregnant, by some guy I’d never met. And from what she said, they weren’t likely to stay together. He sounded like someone who didn’t want the commitment. And Tanya must know it.
‘I’ll come round at tea time,’ I told her. ‘I’ll bring the girls.’
I did, and Tanya and I became friends again. I was glad. I’d worried about her and wanted to be there for her. And I’d missed her.
That summer she had a little girl, Michelle. And, to no-one’s surprise, her boyfriend disappeared. So Tanya decided to go back to Pete, the father of her first baby.
And in September I decided to leave Daniel. We had only been married for seven months. I knew he’d be devastated, and his family too. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him. But I felt I had to do it. I was fond of Daniel, but I didn’t really love him. He’d always been good to me, and had loved me when I was fat and no-one else looked at me. He had stood by me and was the father of my girls. He was a good person. But I was beginning to feel as if my life was over before it had started. And I wanted to go out and live.
Chapter Seventeen
Daniel was very bitter about me leaving him. He didn’t want the marriage to end, and he couldn’t understand how I could do it. The way he saw it, we’d had everything, and I’d thrown it away.
I could see why he felt the way he did. But for me it was different. I had been with him since I was fourteen and I felt hemmed in. Losing so much weight and then finding that other men were attracted to me opened up a whole new world, and I wanted to be out there in it.
I felt so sorry and so guilty for hurting Daniel. If there had been a way I could have done it without causing him pain, I would have. As it was, his hurt became bitterness and anger, which made him want to hurt me.
The house was in my name, as I’d signed the council documents, so Daniel moved back in with his parents. He took everything he could - including the TV, stereo and PlayStation. Then he froze our bank account, so that I couldn’t get hold of the money we had put away, from my compensation. He told me I would never have it. He had the phone cut off - we had one by then - because it was in his name.
The phone and the TV I could cope with, but I didn’t know what to do about the money. That money meant such a lot to me, because it was an acknowledgment of the pain and suffering I had been through. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it. In the end, Daniel let me have £2,000, but he took the other £4,500, including the money we had given to his father to invest. His parents were devastated by the split; they blamed me, and supported Daniel in keeping the money. They told me I would have to prove that it was mine. And just to rub it in, Daniel spent some of it on things for his mum’s house, including a giant TV and a stereo.
There was nothing I could do, but it was a bitter pill to swallow. And I wasn’t wise with the money I did have. It disappeared in a matter of weeks - spent on drugs, nights out and gifts for the kids. I should have put some by, but I didn’t. I felt heady with my new freedom and by this time I was experimenting with more drugs. I had tried both cocaine and ecstasy, though mostly I still just took amphetamines.
After the money was gone, I had to survive on benefits, because Daniel refused to give me any money. I couldn’t go out to work, because the girls were still only two and four. It was tough, and of course there was no money for drugs or to pay babysitters so that I could go out.
Daniel also refused to have the girls regularly. At first he didn’t see them at all, saying that he needed time to get his head round the split. Then he saw them, but refused to have them overnight, saying there wasn’t room at his mum’s. He was determined not to give me a break, and did everything he could to make my life difficult.
It wasn’t long before I met a new man. Trevor was out clubbing with some mates one night when he caught my eye and then came over and offered to buy me a drink. We started seeing one another, and within weeks I was head over heels in love. It made me even more certain that I hadn’t really loved Daniel. He’d offered me security, which I had needed so badly, and for that I would always be grateful, but I wanted to love someone, and I thought I’d found my ideal man in Trevor. He was twenty-five, tall and skinny, with large eyes. He didn’t move in with me because he had his own house a few streets away from mine. He used to come over at night, once the girls were in bed, so he didn’t have much to do with them. I hoped things might get more serious between us, but after we’d been together for almost a year, a local kid told me they had seen Trevor’s car parked outside the house of a girl I thought was a really close friend on Christmas Day.
He was having an affair with her and I was devastated. We had a huge row, and he denied it at first, before admitting it and saying he didn’t really love me anyway. I felt doubly betrayed, and all my old feelings of not being good enough surfaced with a vengeance.
For days I just cried. I had thought I’d met the perfect man, and he turned out to be just another two-timing creep. I felt so low for a while that I thought of killing myself. But I couldn’t leave my girls. They were beautiful, and I knew I had to stay around to protect and love them.
I decided to move house, and went into a private rental, in the same street as Tanya. The house wasn’t in a great state - it smelled of damp and looked tatty - but I felt I needed a change, so I took it. My rent was paid for me, as I was on benefits. I had thought a new house would give me a fresh start, but I still felt very low.
Once I’d moved in, I realised the house was in a worse state than I’d thought. There were mushrooms growing out of the dining room wall, and the kitchen ceiling was caving in. It was so damp that the kitchen lights didn’t work. A friend advised me to call the council’s environmental health department. They came round and discovered, among other things, that the living-room fire was emitting poisonous carbon monoxide - it could have killed me and the girls.
I called the landlord and asked him to fix some of the problems. He arrived with his two heavyweight, menacing sons and began threatening me. One of his sons pushed me up against a wall and told me I’d better get out and stop causing trouble. Then he kissed me on the cheek, in a really spine-chilling way, and told me he’d be back. I was terrified. I went round to the council’s housing office and begged for somewhere new to live, but they told me I’d have to wait months. I couldn’t afford to get the repairs done myself, so I had to live, with my girls, in a damp, dangerous house, with a boarded-up window and a fire we couldn’t use.
By this time Daniel had met a girl called Lisa, who was from South Africa. They got a house together, only a few streets from me. Daniel knew what a difficult time I was having and how little money I had, but he refused to help me. Even though he was now happy with Lisa, he remained angry and bitter.
He asked me for a divorce and told me that the only way we could avoid a £250 fee each was if I admitted to having an affair. This wasn’t true, of course, but I believed what he said and decided to agree, to keep things simple and avoid the costs. There was no way I could have found that kind of money. We got the divorce, and then he said that one day he would show the girls my admission of an affair and tell them I had ruined his life.
I was devastated. I had always trusted Daniel. But he had changed. He had tricked me and was planning to tell our daughters I’d had an affair, when he knew it wasn’t true. I could only hope and pray that he didn’t really mean it, and that if he did, the girls would believe me.
Soon after this, Daniel came round to tell me he was going to South Africa to marry Lisa. He said, ‘I’ll have a better life over there.’
‘What about the girls?’ I asked, shocked that he could think of leaving them. He looked uncomfortable. ‘I’ll write,’ he said. ‘And t
hey can come and see me when they’re older.’
He left a couple of weeks later, leaving me to bring up our daughters alone. For the next few years he had almost no contact with the girls, apart from a few phone calls, and he paid no maintenance.
The person who did come through for us was his mother, Rose. She had been very angry with me after the split, but she didn’t stay angry. We made up and became good friends. And she started having the girls over once a month for the weekend. I felt glad that even though they couldn’t see their dad, they could at least be part of his family.
After Daniel left, I was so broke that I started looking after Tanya’s three children for her, while she was at work. She had gone back on the game after Michelle was born. Then she’d got pregnant again, by Pete, and had another son. When he was a few weeks old she went back to work again, three days a week. Now she was raking in money - she could make between two and three hundred pounds a day. I couldn’t believe how much cash she seemed to have. She was forever buying clothes and fancy haircuts, as well as nice things for her house and kids, while I had nothing.
Tanya worked during the day and was supposed to finish at six. But she often didn’t arrive to pick up the kids until eight, and sometimes she’d stay away all night, without calling me to tell me where she was. She had split with Pete again, and she had loads of boyfriends and a hectic social life, and would just take off with one of them. Despite this, she only paid me £20 a day, for all three children. It was exhausting looking after five of them for hour after hour, especially for so little. I used to feel very jealous of Tanya.
I began to think about how good it would be to have that kind of money myself. I could sort the house out, get things for the girls, have nice clothes and give us a good life. Could I do what Tanya was doing? I didn’t know. I wasn’t at all sure whether I could get that kind of work - or whether I could go through with it.
I told Tanya I was thinking about it. She had always said it was so easy, and that many of the men she saw didn’t even want sex, they just wanted someone to talk to. But when I suggested that I might do it she told me I wouldn’t have the bottle.
That was what decided me. She thought I was too scared, that I couldn’t pull it off. Well, I’d show her. And Mum too.
I was seeing Mum from time to time, and I knew she was proud of what Tanya was doing - mainly because Tanya often gave her money or paid for her nights out. But she didn’t think I could do it - she told me I didn’t have the guts. Mum’s catch-phrase was ‘Why give it when you can sell it?’ She was always saying it. I began to think that maybe she was right. I didn’t have any skills or qualifications. My body was the one thing I had that might be worth something.
Once I’d made up my mind, Tanya decided to help me. She worked for a man who ran two houses, in different parts of the city, and she arranged for me to have an ’interview’ at one of them. She told me what to wear and what would happen and although I felt sick with apprehension, I wasn’t going to let myself back out. I took some speed to help with my nerves, and then dressed as though I was going out for a Saturday night on the town - full make-up, short skirt and sexy underwear.
The house I was told to go to was in a rundown area of town. I walked past the terraced houses - most of which looked as though they had seen better days, some boarded up - feeling glad I didn’t have to live there.
I rang the bell and stood on the doorstep, trying to calm my nerves and wondering what on earth I was doing. Reggie opened the door and told me to come in. He was a sallow, middle-aged man, with dark, slightly greasy hair and a smarmy smile.
I was surprised to find that the house itself was decorated really nicely, with fresh paint and new furnishings. It looked clean and welcoming, and was a total contrast to the rundown exterior.
As I stood in the hallway, looking around me, Reggie beckoned me up the stairs. My stomach turned over. For a moment I had forgotten the interview. He led me into a pleasantly furnished bedroom and told me, in a very matter of fact manner, to undress and rub him down. ‘I want a massage and an oral,’ he said, pointing to a bag of condoms at the side of the bed.
I felt sick and my hands shook as I slowly began to undress. I tried to blank out what was happening, just as I had with George and Terry. All I could think about was getting it over with as soon as possible. I had goosebumps on my arms as I climbed onto the bed where Reggie was lying, naked, on his stomach. He turned his head and eyed me in a strategically placed mirror.
‘Don’t bother with the oil,’ he said, as I reached tentatively for the bottle. Obediently I put it down and began to massage him. The next twenty minutes seemed to last forever. I tried not to look up at the clock, but I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at it now and then, praying that time would go quicker. Then Reggie turned over and told me to perform the oral. I thought about running out of the room, crying, screaming, anything to stop what was happening. I felt panicky and tearful but, struggling not to show it, I did as he asked.
When it was over, he jumped off the bed and dropped the condom in a bin. ‘You’ll do,’ he said, looking at me. ‘You can start tomorrow. But from now on you provide your own condoms - your Tanya will show where you can get them for nowt.’
I pulled on my clothes as fast as I could and followed him out of the room and back down the stairs. ‘You get £40 per customer,’ he said. ‘You give £15 to me, and the rest is yours.’ I nodded and mumbled my thanks as I bolted out of the door.
Outside, I brushed away my tears as I headed back to the bus stop. I’d done it, but I didn’t know whether to be pleased or sad, ashamed or proud. Was this really what I wanted to do? I felt like running back and telling him it had all been a mistake. But I thought of the money and how badly I needed it, and got on the bus.
The next day I dressed up again, in a little mini-skirt, boots and a tight top, dropped the kids off with Mum, who’d agreed to look after them, and went back to the house. He’d told me to report at ten a.m., though I couldn’t imagine men queuing up for sex at that hour. Surely they’d all want to come later in the day?
I was wrong. From the minute I got there, the place was busy. I was one of two girls working that day, and neither of us got much of a break. Goodness knows what the neighbours thought. They must have guessed what was going on, with so many men coming and going, but I was told that they didn’t complain.
Punters would ring up - the number was advertised all over town and the phone rang constantly - and Reggie would ask what kind of girl they wanted and describe whoever he thought would fit the bill. I listened to him describing me - an attractive blonde, nineteen years old, big blue eyes, size ten, 34b chest, with a pert bum. Then he’d give them details of where the house was, opening times and prices.
When clients arrived to see me, I had to greet them and take them upstairs. Reggie had a little monitor next to his chair in the downstairs office, so that he could hear what was happening upstairs. He claimed this was for my safety, but I wasn’t too sure about that. I reckoned he was just a dirty old man who liked listening.
It was the hardest day’s work I had ever done. But I was good at numbing myself to get through it, and none of the customers demanded anything bizarre or scary. I saw thirteen men that day, but I only had sex with five of them. A couple ejaculated before I’d even touched them, and the rest just wanted the massage, or to talk.
When I finished work at six, I went home with £325. I kept opening my bag to look at it. I couldn’t believe I’d made more than most people I knew earned in a week. But it had been hard-earned. I went home, sat in the bath and scrubbed myself for half an hour and tried to forget where I had been and what I’d done.
After my second day at work, I was able to buy us a washing machine and a tumble dryer. I was so proud of myself. I blanked out what I’d done to earn them, telling myself it was the only way we could survive.
From then on I worked two days a week. The customers were very similar to those I saw on my first day - some wanted
straight sex, some just a massage or oral sex, and some just wanted to talk or watch me undress.
Most weeks I took home over £500 for fifteen hours work - and it was tax free. I had never before had that kind of money. I bought things for the house, for the kids and for myself. I splashed out on a new TV, furniture, toys and clothes. But the money came at a higher and higher price. I spent a lot of it on drugs, because taking them helped me to blot out what I was doing to myself.
The more I earned, the more I partied, taking more and more drugs and going out three or four times a week. I spent the money as quick as I earned it and never thought of saving any. And I’d started drinking a lot more. Sometimes I’d binge and get really drunk, downing shots and spirits as though they were water. Of course, I’d wake up with a terrible hangover. But then I’d take more drugs, to get high again.
Inevitably, with all this going on, I wasn’t being a great mum. I adored my girls, but I was spending a lot less time with them. Instead of being with them, as I had before, I was buying their affection with toys, PlayStations, games, clothes, TVs and videos. I didn’t stop to think that all this was no substitute for time with their mum.
My own mum was delighted with my new job, because I was paying her to look after the girls. She was earning from both me and Tanya, and she loved it. She was still living with Alan, though they’d never married because she couldn’t track down Craig to divorce him. She looked after all five of our kids in the same flat I’d lived in with her, next to the pub. I’d had doubts about letting her look after my girls - she’d been a pretty awful mother and I didn’t want her mistreating the girls. But I needed someone to look after them, and she was there. And I suppose I hoped she would be different with them and make up for what a rotten mother she’d been.
She wasn’t drinking, which I took as a good sign. But my hopes that she’d mellowed were dashed when the girls began telling me that they were scared of her. It seemed she was losing her temper and shouting at them and they spent most of their time trying not to spark her off. When I realised this, I was horrified. How could I have thought she would change?