A Sister's Secret

by Debbie Grafham

  The next few days were a nightmare. I couldn’t bear to be anywhere near my father and if he walked into a room, then I walked out. I was too scared to go to sleep, terrified that he would try and climb into my bed again. I would sit there, wide-awake, with Judy positioned at the top of the ladder so that if I nodded off she would block his way. Dad acted like nothing had happened and it was a relief when, true to form, he went missing again one day. A week later, I was sat up watching telly with Mum one night when he turned up, drunk and abusive.

  Now that I was older, I’d started to answer him back and he hated it.

  ‘Go to bed,’ he said when he saw me.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to bed and leave you to hurt Mum.’

  ‘Shut your fucking mouth, you little c**t, or, I’ll belt you,’ he slurred.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch her,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’ll show her what happens if she talks back to me,’ he said, unravelling his belt from around his suit trousers and lashing out at me with it. I flinched as the buckle end whacked me on the cheekbone.

  ‘I said get to fucking bed,’ he roared.

  In the end, Mum dragged me to my bedroom.

  ‘Please go to bed or he’ll really hurt you,’ she pleaded.

  The poor woman looked terrified. I knew she’d started to hit rock bottom again. She hadn’t said anything but I could tell as she’d been so quiet lately and I’d often find her crying.

  The next day, Dad went straight back to the pub again as soon as it opened. All of us kids were in the front room getting ready for bed when he came staggering in.

  Him and Mum started to row straight away. I could hear Mum screaming as he walloped her over and over again. Davina put her hands over her ears and Laraine started to cry.

  ‘Come here, Lal,’ I said, putting my arms around her. ‘It will be OK.’

  David and I looked at each other. We’d heard it all before but it was still terrifying.

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ I heard Mum say. ‘I’m leaving, I can’t take any more. I’m going to walk out of that door and never come back.’

  Panic rose up in my throat.

  Please don’t go, I thought to myself. Don’t leave us with that man.

  ‘If you go then I’ll cut your children’s throats,’ yelled Dad. ‘And you’d better fucking believe it.’

  Mum obviously did because thankfully it was Dad who stormed out that night, but I knew she had reached the end of her tether. The next day Granddad George came round with his tool bag.

  ‘What are you doing, Granddad?’ I asked as he got out a drill.

  ‘I’m changing the locks so that no good father of yours can’t get in,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he told Mum. ‘That bastard won’t be bothering you any more.’

  That was fine by me after everything my father had done. I hated him and all I felt was relief as Laraine and I watched Granddad get to work.

  ‘But what about when he comes back?’ I asked him. ‘He’s going to go mental if he can’t get in.’

  ‘I’ve told your mother to phone the police,’ said Granddad.

  That night, for the first time in four days, I slept. Sure enough, Dad turned up a couple of nights later. Laraine and I were woken up by hammering on the front door of our flat.

  ‘Open this fucking door, you bitch, or I’ll kick it in,’ he shouted.

  ‘I’m calling the police, Fred,’ Mum yelled.

  Everything went quiet and ten minutes later there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Open up, it’s the police,’ said a gruff voice.

  Mum opened the door to two officers and they explained that when Dad had seen their panda car pull up, he’d legged it.

  ‘Funnily enough, we need to speak to your husband as he’s on suspicion of handling stolen goods, amongst other things,’ they said.

  Bleary-eyed, we were all dragged out of our beds while officers once again searched our house. This time they came out with a clock and a jewellery box that I’d never seen before.

  ‘If Freddie comes back again tell him we’re looking for him,’ said an officer. ‘He’s had enough warnings. I’m afraid this time his luck has run out.’

  ‘Is Dad going to get arrested?’ David whispered to me.

  ‘I hope so,’ I said.

  The news was music to my ears. I still had over five weeks of the summer holidays left and I knew I’d feel much safer if Dad was locked away inside.

  It was a relief to have Dad gone but I also knew how hard it was for Mum. To keep food in the cupboards and the rent and bills paid, she needed her cleaning jobs more than ever. She would take Davina with her, leaving Laraine and I in the flat while David went to his friend’s house down the road.

  Normally we would have played with Peggy and Susan but just before the start of the school holidays, Estelle had come down to tell Mum that they were moving out.

  ‘We’re buying a house in Charlton,’ she told us. ‘It’s only down the road and you can come over and see us whenever you want.’

  But all of us kids were gutted: visiting wasn’t the same as having our best friends upstairs and running in and out of each other’s houses. Laraine and I had been in tears the day they’d moved out. So now, with the flat upstairs still empty, there really was no one to play with when Mum went to work.

  ‘You two be good,’ she told us as she ran out of the door one morning in the second week of the holidays. ‘There’s squash and crisps in the cupboard if you get hungry and I’ll be back at lunchtime.

  ‘And remember, don’t go any further than the front garden.’

  Laraine and I played marbles, then hide and seek and tig. The time seemed to drag and we soon got bored. So there was great excitement when we looked out of the window to see a big removal van pull up outside.

  ‘That must be the new people,’ I said to Laraine.

  Ian and Estelle’s flat had been empty for the past couple of weeks and we were desperate to get new neighbours, especially if it meant new kids to play with.

  We watched out of the window as the front door was wedged open and two men piled up boxes in the porch. Laraine’s big brown eyes lit up when she saw them bring in a pushchair.

  ‘There must be a baby, Deb,’ she said. ‘I love babies.’

  Over the next few days I tried desperately to catch a glimpse of the new people. The back garden belonged to our flat but we always played in the big communal front garden, where we could see who went in and out.

  ‘Well, I met the new lady upstairs today,’ Mum told us one night. ‘Her name’s Wendy and she’s got three kids.’

  Mum said they weren’t from Blackheath, so she’d offered to give Wendy a tour of the local area the following day.

  ‘I thought I’d show her where the shops are and the doctor’s surgery so she can try and get her bearings.’

  Me and Laraine went out the front to play the next day to find two boys running around. Shayne was seven, like Laraine, and Michael was eight, the same age as David.

  ‘Our sister Alison’s just a baby,’ said Michael.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Shayne. ‘She’s only three so she ain’t allowed to play out like us.’

  They seemed like nice lads and we all had a game of hide and seek. A few days later me and Laraine were playing marbles in the porch when I saw a man coming up the path. He had lanky brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing sunglasses and a scruffy white T-shirt and jeans. I thought it was strange as he was also wearing a leather jacket even though it was a boiling hot summer’s day.

  ‘All right,’ I said, giving him a nod.

  But he just put his head down and grunted as he went past us and through the front door of the upstairs flat.

  ‘That must be Michael and Shayne’s dad,’ said Laraine.

  ‘He ain’t very friendly,’ I laughed.

  I asked the lads about it a few days later when we were out playing.

  ‘He’s not our old man,’ said Micha
el. ‘That’s Patrick Ryan, our mum’s fella.’

  ‘Our dad’s coming to take us to the football this weekend,’ said Shayne proudly. ‘Then we’re off to the seaside next week.’

  I shuddered, remembering my own father and all of his broken promises. Sure enough a few days later I saw a handsome, dark-haired man walking down the front path, hand in hand with the boys, who both had big beams on their faces. Lucky them to have a dad who cared, I thought.

  Occasionally we’d see Pat, as the boys called him, going up and down the path on his way to the shop. He was a scruffy, dirty-looking bloke. Wendy was a pretty woman who dressed nice and was always made-up, so I wouldn’t have put the pair of them together.

  ‘I don’t know what she’s doing with a funny-looking, miserable fella like him,’ said Mum. ‘He doesn’t even say hello.’

  One afternoon Laraine and I were playing in the side return at the back of our flat when we heard tapping. We looked up to see a little girl stood there at a window of the upstairs flat. She was a cute little thing, with big dark eyes and long brown hair in ringlet curls.

  ‘That must be Alison, Michael and Shayne’s little sister,’ I said.

  We waved up to her and she smiled and waved back.

  ‘Aw, she’s dead sweet, ain’t she, Deb?’ said Laraine. ‘She’s like a little doll.’

  She stood up on the sill and shouted out of the open window: ‘Come and play with me.’

  ‘Oh please, Deb, can I?’ begged Laraine.

  I knew how much she loved babies and toddlers. We’d always been in and out of Ian and Estelle’s when they lived up there, but Mum had told us not to go out of the flat.

  ‘Please can I go upstairs and say hello to Alison?’ she said.

  ‘OK,’ I sighed. ‘But don’t be long.’

  ‘Thanks, Deb,’ she said, skipping off inside.

  I was conscious that I was the eldest and in charge. Even though David was out playing he was at someone else’s house and it had all been arranged. But I needn’t have worried. Half an hour later Laraine was back.

  ‘She’s a sweet little thing,’ she said. ‘And she’s got loads of Sindy dolls.

  ‘Her mum was at work but that fella Pat was there. He made us some squash and gave us some biscuits.’

  It sounded like she’d had a great time.

  ‘Can I go and play tomorrow?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ll see,’ I said. ‘But don’t tell Mum. She might be cross with me for letting you go up there on your own.’

  ‘Thanks, Deb,’ she smiled.

  Laraine couldn’t wait to go up there again. If only I had known then what was going to happen, I would have stopped her. Then the nightmare might never have begun.

  Chapter 5

  An Horrific Discovery

  A couple of days later, we saw Alison in her bedroom again. She was standing on the windowsill, banging on the window pane. Laraine waved up to her.

  ‘Come and play,’ she shouted, pressing one of her Sindy dolls up to the glass.

  Laraine looked at me with big pleading eyes.

  ‘Please, Deb,’ she begged. ‘Can I go?’

  I didn’t want to spend the summer holidays hanging around with a three-year-old but I knew Laraine didn’t have any friends locally like me because her school was so far away. She seemed to be really taken with Alison and as she was quite babyish herself, she always got on better with younger kids rather than girls her own age. I felt a bit mean saying no.

  ‘OK then,’ I said. ‘But don’t be long. Mum will kill me if she knows I’ve let you out of my sight.’

  Like last time, the front door to the upstairs flat was open and I watched Laraine head up the stairs. I went back into our flat and decided to read an Enid Blyton book but I was all fidgety. Mum was out cleaning and had taken Davina with her as usual, and David was playing at his friend Peter’s house across the road. Without Laraine to mess around with, it was even more boring being stuck in an empty flat. This summer Mum had told me that I was finally old enough to be allowed to go to the local park on my own. It was only a little playground, about a fifteen-minute walk away, but it felt like such a big deal. I knew Mum had probably meant I could go when she was around, but Judy needed a walk so I decided to take her down there.

  It was a lovely sunny morning, too nice to be cooped up inside, and I felt so grown up as I strode down the hill on my own. But as soon as I got there, I suddenly felt guilty.

  What if Laraine came back down and I wasn’t there and she panicked or got upset? I was cross with myself for not shouting upstairs and letting her know I was going out. I knew Mum would be furious with me if she found out that I’d left her.

  ‘Sorry, girl,’ I said, pulling Judy’s lead. ‘We’re going to have to go home.’

  I hurried back as quickly as I could; it was boiling hot and I was sweating as I dragged Judy up the hill towards the flat.

  It’s OK, I told myself. Everything will be fine.

  But it wasn’t. As I walked into the porch and pushed open the heavy front entrance door, I heard it. It was a sound that made me stop dead in my tracks.

  Screaming.

  I knew instantly who it was.

  ‘Laraine?’ I shouted. ‘Where are you? Don’t worry, I’m here, Lal.’

  I could tell that it was coming from upstairs. In a complete panic, I quickly opened the front door of our flat and pushed Judy inside. My heart was pounding as I pulled open the unlocked front door of Alison’s flat and ran up the steep flight of stairs. As I was halfway up, I was confronted with the most horrific sight. Lying on the landing floor was my terrified sister and on top of her was Patrick Ryan. Her shorts were pulled down around her knees and she was crying. I couldn’t see what he was doing to her but his jeans were down and even though I was only nine, because of everything that had happened with my father I knew instantly that it was wrong.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch my sister,’ I screamed, jumping on his back. ‘Get away from her.’

  I grabbed his greasy ponytail and tried to pull him off her.

  Pat looked shocked to see me and he tried to get up off Laraine, who was sobbing now. In the scuffle to get him off her, I don’t know what happened. Suddenly I heard a scream and to my horror, Laraine tumbled head first down the stairs. She landed at the bottom with a bang and for a second everything went quiet.

  That’s it, I thought. She’s dead.

  I was so shocked, I couldn’t move. I just stared at her curled up in a ball at the bottom of the stairs. It was such a relief when she started whimpering.

  Pat didn’t say a word; he just stood there and pulled his jeans up while I ran down the stairs to my little sister.

  Blood was streaming down Laraine’s face and I could see that she’d got a cut above her right eye. Her National Health glasses that we both wore had snapped at the side. I helped her off the floor and pulled up her shorts.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lal, you’re safe now,’ I told her. ‘I’ll get you home.’

  Leaning on me for support, she hobbled into our flat and I locked the door behind us. I took her into the bathroom, closed the lid of the toilet and sat her down on it. It was like I was on autopilot and neither of us said anything. Laraine was in shock. She was shaking and she couldn’t speak; she could barely even cry.

  I filled the sink with hot water and Dettol and wrung out a flannel. As gently as I could, I bathed her eye. To me being abused was becoming frighteningly normal. Was this what all men did?

  But not to my little sister, no one was going to touch my poor Lal. She was seven years old for God’s sake, a tiny, fragile girl. Thank goodness I had come back to the flat when I did and interrupted them.

  I looked at the clock: we didn’t have long. It was 1.30pm and Mum was due back from work soon. I finished cleaning Laraine’s eye and fixed her glasses by wrapping plasters around the broken arm. Laraine and I never talked about it but I knew I couldn’t tell Mum what had happened. I was worried that she would be cross with me i
f she found out that I had gone out and left Laraine in the flats on her own. I was also still terrified that if I told her, Social Services would blame Mum and we would all be put back into care again. No, we had no choice, our lips would have to stay sealed.

  A few minutes later Mum came in through the door, pushing Davina. When I saw her face, it took all my strength not to burst into tears and tell her what that nasty man upstairs had done to Laraine but I knew I couldn’t.

  ‘What happened?’ she said when she saw Laraine’s cut and patched-up glasses.

  ‘Lal fell over in the garden and broke her specs, but it ain’t her fault,’ I told her.

  Laraine still looked completely shell-shocked and didn’t say anything.

  ‘Aw, my poor little love,’ said Mum, going over to her and giving her a hug. ‘Have you been crying? Don’t look so worried, it doesn’t matter. I’ll get you a plaster for your head.’

  Laraine hardly said a word for the rest of the day, she just seemed to be in a daze. We hadn’t talked about what had happened but I knew I had to say something. That night we lay in our bunk beds in the dark, neither of us asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I just kept seeing that disgusting man on top of my little sister.

  ‘Lal?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes, Deb.’

  ‘Please don’t ever go upstairs to that flat again.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘But Deb, Alison’s my friend,’ she said.

  The thought of ever stepping foot in that flat again and seeing him made me shudder but Laraine seemed determined. It’s hard to understand and I know what you’re thinking. Why would we go up there when we knew what he was capable of? Why would we go back again if we were so terrified of him?

  But the truth is, I don’t really know. All I can say is that we were seven and nine, we were children. Alison was Laraine’s little friend, her only friend. She was too young to understand what was happening to her. In her innocent mind, all she wanted was someone to play with.

  But I knew it was wrong and I couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting my little sister. If Laraine was going to go up there again, I was going to have to go with her. As far as I was concerned, that monster was never going to be given the opportunity to abuse her again.