I Did Tell, I Did

by Cassie Harte

  Eventually I dragged myself up and back to school again. It was the last term of the year and that was always the best term, with concerts, sports day and the school play. I still didn’t feel completely well but I went back so that Uncle Bill couldn’t visit any more and try to repeat his horrific attacks.

  I tried my hardest not to be in the house when he visited, and for a while I succeeded. I could take the dog out for a long walk, go to Claire’s house on Fridays and sometimes on other nights if I argued that we needed to do homework together, or I could disappear off to choir practice. It was inevitable that our paths would cross eventually, but in the meantime Uncle Bill kept demanding of Mum where I was and why he hadn’t seen me until she accused me of being rude to him, and ungrateful for all the attention he gave me.

  I looked at her and wondered what on earth was going on in her head. I’d told her about the kind of ‘attention’ Bill gave me and she didn’t want to know. Why did she still persist in trying to force us together? I couldn’t make head or tail of it.

  One evening while I was in my room doing my homework, I heard someone on the stairs and I glanced up nervously. My bedroom door opened and there stood the man I loathed more than any other living being. He grinned. ‘Hello, Cassie.’

  I sat very still without speaking and hoped I would be safe since the family were all downstairs.

  Uncle Bill came over to where I sat writing an essay and placed his hand over my mouth then he bent down to kiss me on the neck.

  I jumped up, pushing him away, but he just laughed and stood between me and the door, blocking my escape. My heart was beating hard as all the awful memories came flooding back. I had tried to block them from my mind but they were never far away, making me shudder with revulsion as they came to the surface.

  He moved forward, pressed his body against mine, then tried to kiss me on the lips. I felt sick and turned my head to the side.

  ‘No one will hear us,’ he said. ‘They’ve gone next door to see the new puppy.’ Before I had a chance to push past him, he grabbed my hand and thrust it inside his trousers.

  I struggled, but he just pushed his body into me, jamming my hand between us.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he slurred, moving himself up and down against me and making the groaning noise I hated so much. I used to hear that noise echoing in my head at night while I lay in bed: in my quiet, dark moments, in my dreams.

  As I struggled to get away Bill became more excited. The more I struggled, the more he seemed to like it. I was so petrified that I hadn’t uttered a word so far but suddenly he gripped me so tightly that I couldn’t help but scream at the top of my voice. He jumped back and I seized my opportunity to run out into the hall. I couldn’t decide where to go but, fearful that he was following, I ran into Tom’s room and hid down the side of the bed. My heart was pounding as I heard Bill come out onto the landing and hesitate, but then his footsteps trudged slowly down the stairs. He wasn’t trying to find me.

  Once I was sure the coast was clear, I skipped back into my own room and lay on the bed, feeling shattered by what had happened. My room had always been a refuge before, and now even there wasn’t safe. Wherever I was, Bill could always find me and abuse me. There was nowhere he couldn’t reach me.

  After this last horror, I spent even more time out of the house, walking the dog down to the seafront and staying out for hours on end. I loved the sea. I could just stand and look at the waves and pretend that I was far away from all of this. No one ever asked where I was going or when I would be back. I lived in the same house as them, we sat down to meals together, but otherwise they treated me like an outcast.

  I’d restarted violin lessons, and what with them, choir practice and all my household chores, I didn’t have much time to reflect, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to think about my life. If I didn’t think, I could pretend that all was well and things were perfectly fine. I didn’t have to think about the uncle who abused me and the mother who hated me so much that she refused to listen to my complaints and protect me from him.

  And then a miracle happened. At last God answered my prayers. I heard from Rosie that Mum had fallen out with Uncle Bill’s wife Gwen, and as a result Uncle Bill had to promise that he would never come round our house again. I had no idea what the row was about, as Gwen was usually a quiet, mild-mannered lady who I had never heard utter a cross word. Then, when I thought about it some more, I decided it must be because Mum had realised what Bill was doing to me and had belatedly decided to put a stop to it. Surely that must be it?

  Mum was sitting on her bed crying as I crept into the room and threw my arms round her neck, overcome with gratitude. Normally I wouldn’t have dared to hug her. Whenever I’d tried in the past she’d always pushed me away sharply, but this time I was convinced that she finally believed me about Uncle Bill and that was the reason for her tears. ‘Thank you! Thank you for believing me. I knew you would really,’ I cried, overjoyed that at last she had taken my word for it and had seen that evil man for what he really was.

  Seconds later, I was hurled to the floor and Mum was screaming at me furiously.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ She glared at me. ‘Of course it had nothing to do with that.’ She was utterly furious. ‘Do you really believe that I cared about what you said? Do you really think that anything you said would have made Bill and me row?’ She shook her head in disgust and spat out her words. ‘Your feelings and your welfare are the furthest things from my mind right now, you selfish, horrible girl. Get that into your head. I don’t care tuppence about you. OK?’

  I lay on the floor, stunned.

  ‘Get out of my sight.’ She turned her back. ‘Don’t come near me again.’

  I crawled out of the room, completely devastated once more. How could I have been so stupid as to think she had had a change of heart and decided to protect me? She really didn’t care. She wasn’t anything like all my friends’ mothers, who adored them. I was nothing to her. Worse than nothing—she actually hated me.

  I heard her sobbing bitterly in her bedroom and wondered what she was so upset about. Maybe she felt bad about the row she’d had with Gwen. I supposed she would miss Uncle Bill, since she seemed to be such great friends with him, but as far as I was concerned it was the best thing that had ever happened in my life. I wasn’t safe from my mother’s bullying and emotional cruelty but at least I was safe from that monster who had terrified me and hurt me so badly. At least I didn’t have to keep looking over my shoulder and wondering if I was safe every time I was left in the house on my own. If I heard a creak on the stairs, it wouldn’t be him coming to attack me again.

  The relief was so overwhelming that it drowned out any worries about why my mother might be crying in her bedroom and why she hated me. I got down on my knees and thanked God over and over again for rescuing me. I had known all along He would listen and eventually He had. I was safe at last.

  Chapter Nine

  Although I had lots of other friends, Claire and I were still bestest friends and I still spent every Friday night at hers after the Brigade meetings. We had so much in common that we never ran out of conversation. We chatted about what was happening at school, about other friends there, and about the programmes we watched on television. Claire had a crush on Robert Horton, who played Flint McCullough in the TV series Wagon Train. There was a bus driver on her local route who looked just like him so sometimes, after school, we would wait at the top of her road just in case he was driving and she could steal a glimpse of him. My hero was Edd Byrnes, who played Kookie in 77 Sunset Strip, and I’d style my hair in a ponytail just like the girls in the show. On Saturday mornings, we would go down to Littlewood’s department store and try out the pink shiny lipsticks in the cosmetics department or go into the changing rooms to try on new outfits. When I was with her, time flew. I felt like a different person: relaxed, happy, normal. These were the in-between times, the times that kept me sane.

  We were similar in lots of ways, but
unlike Claire I wasn’t good at meeting new people. I tended to distrust all men, except Claire’s lovely dad, and I would never stay in a room on my own with a man. If Claire stopped to talk to a family friend in the street, I shrank behind her, anxiously stepping from foot to foot until we moved on. I just didn’t feel safe in the company of men. I never knew when I might meet another man like Uncle Bill who might want to do these things to me, and it terrified me.

  My relationship with Mum went from bad to worse and I started asking if I could stay at Claire’s more and more often. Usually she’d agree because it got me out from under her feet but sometimes she refused, just to spite me, because she didn’t want me to enjoy myself. I loved staying there. If I was at Claire’s house, I wasn’t at mine. Everyone at school knew that Claire’s and my friendship was special but no one knew just how much I needed her. Claire was my safety, my soulmate, closer than a real sister could possibly have been.

  At the end of our first year together at the secondary modern, disaster struck. Claire’s parents announced they were moving home and that the move would take them outside the catchment area for our school. Claire would have to move to a new school and we’d be separated. After they made the announcement I sat in complete shock, unable to speak.

  ‘We’ve had an idea, though,’ Claire’s mum said. ‘I know your mum has got her hands full with all you kids at home and I wondered if maybe she would let you come and stay with us during the week and you could attend the new school with Claire? Then you could go home at weekends to catch up with your family. It would be like boarding school, except you’d be boarding with us. Would you like that?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ I exclaimed immediately, hope springing up in my heart. ‘Yes please! I’d love to come and live with you.’

  ‘Maybe Claire could come and stay at your house on Saturday and Sunday and that way the two of you need never be separated. Would you like me to pop round and ask your mum?’

  My spirits sank. Reality started to dawn. Mum would never agree. She wouldn’t do something that would make me so happy. Besides, who would do all my chores at home? Of course she wouldn’t agree.

  Still I clung to hope as Claire’s mother left the house to go and see my mother. After a while, she returned. She didn’t look very happy and I held my breath.

  ‘I asked your mum, Cassie,’ she said quietly. ‘I explained how close you and Claire are and that I felt this friendship was good for both of you. But I’m afraid she says that she can’t spare you at home so the answer is no.’

  Claire started to cry and I stood, stock still, flooded with misery. How would I cope without Claire?

  ‘You can still see each other at Brigade on Fridays and maybe your mum will let you stay the weekend,’ Claire’s mum said hopefully. ‘You’ll just be at different schools during the week.’ She pulled us both over for a hug. ‘It won’t be so bad. You’ll get used to it.’

  But it was bad. Second year started and I was in mourning. Every break time and every lunchtime I stood at our school gates, crying for my friend. No one could comfort me. No one understood why I needed to see Claire every day. No one understood that life wasn’t bearable for me without her around. She was the only person I knew who loved me and made me feel all right about myself. Her constant cheerfulness was the only thing that could break through my depression, and without it I sank deeper and deeper into a hole.

  I tried over and over again to get Mum to change her mind but she stuck her heels in and refused. The more I asked her, the more adamant she became.

  My teachers became concerned about me because I wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t socialising with the other girls, and my grades started to slip. A couple of teachers took me aside and asked if I had any problems, if there was anything they could help with. I told them I just wanted to go and live with Claire and go to her new school with her, but there was nothing they could do. It was my mum’s decision where I lived and they couldn’t intervene. They thought mine was just the normal reaction of a little girl who’d been separated from her best friend. They didn’t know how much I relied on Claire, how unbearable my life was without her.

  Eventually, over the months, I got used to being without Claire and I got closer to some other girls. There was Wendy, with whom I’d done confirmation classes, who was a quiet, studious girl, and Maureen, a funny girl who could be naughty at times. But neither of them could make up for the loss of Claire. Our Friday nights just weren’t enough to make me feel happy and loved again.

  I still had my daydream that the well-dressed man and wife would turn up on our doorstep and claim me as theirs. Occasionally I thought back to the argument in which Mum had told Dad that he had no rights over me. What had she meant by that? Maybe it meant it was true that I was adopted and that my real mother and father were out there somewhere hunting for me. I knew it was only make-believe but I couldn’t stop dreaming. It kept me going.

  Then, in January of my second year at the secondary modern, came some news that I had been dreading with all my heart and soul. Whatever the row between Mum and Uncle Bill had been about, they had made up.

  ‘Bill’s coming round tomorrow,’ she said happily over tea one night. ‘He’s been away on holiday but he’s dying to see us so he’s coming over as soon as he gets back.’

  I froze with fear and my heart started beating hard. What was I going to do? Where would I be safe now? Who would help me? I couldn’t understand why God had let this happen. Had he stopped listening to me altogether?

  Mum chattered happily throughout the rest of the meal but I couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe for terror. I would be at the mercy of evil once again. There was nowhere left I could hide.

  Chapter Ten

  Mum insisted I had to come straight home from school the next day. There was no way out of it. Uncle Bill was coming for tea and she wanted the whole family at home to greet him.

  When the front door was opened and I saw him standing there with his black curly hair, his eyes darting straight over Mum’s shoulder to where I stood in the corner, I felt physically sick. I tried to disappear into the wallpaper, to shrink out of sight, but he was coming over, coming my way. I wished I was anywhere but there.

  ‘Hello, Cassie, how are you?’ he asked, grinning broadly at me.

  My throat closed up so I could barely speak. ‘OK,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Come and sit down, Bill,’ Mum said, gesturing to a chair. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘I’ve brought presents for everyone,’ he said, and it was then I noticed the carrier bags he was holding. ‘Who wants theirs first?’

  ‘Me!’ my sister Anne cried excitedly. He handed her a new skipping rope and a pop-gun that fired a ping-pong ball on a string. Then he walked over to where Tom was sitting and gave him a large coloured ball and a box containing cricket stumps. Tom was thrilled to bits. Then he came towards me. I started shaking. Couldn’t they all see how scared I was? I wanted to run from the room before he could reach me, before he got close.

  ‘Here you go, Cassie,’ he said. ‘This one’s for you.’ He held out a ribbon for my hair and a little handbag with a brush and comb set inside. ‘These will make you even prettier.’

  I didn’t want his presents, didn’t want him to think I was pretty, so I wouldn’t take them. I just couldn’t. It felt as though he were buying me, paying for the games he made me play. I didn’t want to touch anything that he had touched.

  ‘Don’t be so rude!’ my mother snapped. ‘Take those presents straight away. Bill’s gone to a lot of trouble to get them for you.’

  I stretched out my hand and tried to take them without looking at him, but his thumb brushed my fingers and I flinched. These were the hands that gripped me tightly and held me down, that poked inside my panties, the hands that hurt me.

  ‘Now give him a kiss to say thank you,’ Mum ordered. ‘Honestly, that girl has no manners whatsoever. Go on!’ The last thing I wanted to do was to kiss the man who had hurt me so badly. But she insi
sted.

  I was forced to lean over and brush my lips across Bill’s cheek, my whole body shaking with revulsion. There was that familiar whisky smell I hated, the touch of his sweaty skin, the smirk on his face. My stomach turned over.

  How could my mother make me kiss him? She knew I was terrified of him. I’d told her he touched me between the legs. I’d told her he kissed and hugged me and hurt me. If she didn’t want to banish him from our house altogether, why didn’t she stop him from seeing me on my own? It’s the very least any mother should have done. But she wasn’t any mother—she was my mother, the woman who for some reason hated me. I was never going to get protection from her.

  Bill looked at me. ‘I’ve missed you, Cassie. We’ll have to go out together some time soon and catch up.’

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t speak. I thought my heart would stop completely if he looked at me one more time. Go out with him? I never wanted to go out with him ever again.

  ‘Cassie, you ungrateful girl. Say thank you very much to Bill for the kind offer.’ Still I said nothing, just stared at my feet. My face was burning and I was sure it must be bright scarlet. ‘Excuse my rude daughter. She’d love to come out with you, Bill. Just let us know when you want to take her.’

  ‘She’s only teasing, aren’t you, Cassie?’ he chuckled.

  Suddenly I couldn’t take any more. Mumbling that I had to go to the toilet, I rushed out of the room and ran upstairs. I hurried into the bedroom and shut the door behind me, but I knew I wasn’t safe even there. He could come up at any moment. I wasn’t safe anywhere any more. I threw myself down on the bed and began to shake convulsively, the memories of all the awful things he had ever done to me and all the pain he had caused me throwing my body into spasms.