A Sister's Secret

by Debbie Grafham

‘Wouldn’t you like a boyfriend, Deb?’ Laraine asked me one night. ‘Don’t you want to get married and have children?’

  ‘I’ll have the kids but I don’t want the bloke that goes with it,’ I told her.

  And that’s what I always said. Laraine didn’t understand as she didn’t know what Patrick Ryan had done to me. There were many times over the years that a tiny part of me was tempted to tell her. But I didn’t. Even then, all those years later, I was still ashamed. I felt dirty and disgusting and I blamed myself. I didn’t deserve to be happy. No, whatever happened, I knew I could never ever tell anyone what I’d been through.

  Chapter 10

  New Beginnings

  I took one look at the tiny bundle lying in the see-through cot and my heart melted. From his wrinkled little face to his legs which were scrunched up close to his body like a frog’s, he was the most perfect thing that I’d ever seen.

  ‘Oh, Lal,’ I sighed, stroking his cheek. ‘He’s beautiful.’

  ‘He’s a little smasher, isn’t he?’ Laraine beamed.

  I’d come to see her in Greenwich hospital just after she’d had her first child, a son they’d called Jordan. It’d been a long labour and Laraine must have been shattered but she looked the happiest I’d ever seen.

  She was twenty-two now and she and Brendan had been together for four years. I knew being a mum would be the making of my little sister as she’d always wanted children.

  ‘Can I give my new nephew a cuddle, then?’ I asked her.

  ‘Course,’ she said.

  Carefully I lifted Jordan from the cot and he nestled in the crook of my arm. I buried my nose in his white terry towelling Babygro and breathed in that sweet newborn smell.

  ‘You’re a natural, Deb,’ said Laraine. ‘You should have one of your own.’

  ‘I wish,’ I sighed.

  I longed to be a mum with all my heart but I couldn’t bear the thought of having to sleep with a man. I was pleased Laraine was so happy and settled but sometimes I still felt a tiny bit resentful that she had moved on despite everything that had happened with Patrick Ryan. But I knew that people dealt with things in different ways and she’d been through so much too.

  I felt like I couldn’t get over the past as the abuse was always at the back of my mind. If there were any films or programmes on telly with sex in them then I couldn’t watch them.

  I came across as a real man-hater too. I constantly told David, ‘The only man I’ll ever love is you.’

  ‘Oh, Debbie, you’ll change your tune one day,’ he said.

  But I was convinced I wouldn’t.

  Davina and David had both got married too by now, so it was just me left living at home with Mum. I did whatever I could to earn money – child-minding, working in a shop, cleaning. One of my cleaning jobs was for a woman called Liz who ran a bed and breakfast. She was single like me, although unlike me, she was desperate to find a fella.

  ‘Don’t you want a boyfriend, Debbie?’ she said.

  ‘No, I’m not interested,’ I told her time and time again.

  But for some stupid reason I let her talk me into going to a singles’ night at a wine bar in Sidcup.

  ‘It’s a laugh, I’ve been there loads of times,’ she said.

  ‘Alright, alright, I’ll come,’ I sighed, just to get her off my back.

  As soon as I set foot in the place, I regretted it as it was full of lecherous old men. One fat, bald guy was sat there leering at all the women having a dance. I clocked him straight away but I still couldn’t believe it when I walked past and felt him pinch my bum. Quick as a flash, I turned round and punched him in the face.

  He was so shocked, he didn’t say a word.

  ‘What right is it of yours to touch me when I wasn’t asking for it?’ I yelled.

  ‘Debbie, what the hell are you doing?’ said Liz, dragging me away from him. ‘All he did was touch your arse. It’s a singles’ night, for God’s sake.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean it’s OK,’ I said.

  A few seconds later two burly bouncers marched towards me.

  ‘Uh-oh, I think I’m going to get slung out,’ I said.

  They grabbed my arms and escorted me off the premises.

  ‘Have you had a few too many, darling?’ one of them asked me.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not even drinking. I’ve only had a Coke.’

  They could tell I wasn’t drunk, so they decided to let me go.

  ‘It’s your lucky night,’ one of them said. ‘If you apologise to that gentleman then we’ll let you back in.’

  But I was unrepentant.

  ‘If you let me back in then I’ll finish what I started,’ I said.

  I wasn’t going to let some fat, bald old bloke touch me up just because he felt like it. I was determined that no man would ever take advantage of me again.

  That was the first and last time I stepped into one of those places. Liz stayed at the wine bar and a few days later she sacked me.

  ‘You’re such an angry, aggressive person, Debbie,’ she told me, and to be honest, she was probably right.

  The lesbian rumours had been going round about me for years so I decided what the heck, I would pretend to be what everybody thought I was. Although I knew in my heart that I wasn’t really attracted to women, I started going to gay bars. I realised that they were the only places where I could have a night out, feel safe and not be bothered by sleazy men trying to take advantage of me. Sometimes I’d get chatted up by a woman and we’d talk for hours but at the end of the night, I’d always make my excuses and leave.

  I also decided that it was time to get a proper job. I saw a position advertised to work in the warehouse of a posh department store in London, so I decided to go for it. I was really chuffed when I got an interview.

  ‘You can have the job but are you sure you want to work in the warehouse, dear?’ said the man interviewing me. ‘We’ve got another vacancy on the shop floor that you might be more interested in.’

  He explained that it was on one of the expensive make-up counters.

  ‘There are sales-related bonuses and the uniform is a very smart navy blue dress.’

  I just laughed.

  ‘I ain’t doing that,’ I said. ‘I want a proper man’s job.’

  I think he was a bit taken aback, but I enjoyed doing manual work. I wanted to be in the warehouse lifting heavy loads and driving around in a forklift truck. I even liked the uniform, which was a polo shirt and trousers. I was one of three women who worked there and the rest of the lads were a good bunch. I’d been there a few months when the manager came over to see me.

  ‘We’ve got a new starter coming in today, so I want you to show him the ropes,’ he told me.

  The new bloke was called Rob Grafham. He was stood in reception in a shirt and tie, which made me smile.

  ‘You’re going to get a bit mucky in the warehouse wearing that,’ I joked.

  ‘I thought I’d better look smart for my first day,’ he said.

  We chatted for a while and he told me he was from Charlton. When he described where he lived, I recognised it straight away.

  ‘I know that street,’ I said. ‘It’s up the road from where my granddad used to be.’

  He was a year older than me and it turned out that we’d both gone to Blackheath Bluecoats high school although neither of us recognised the other.

  I had to train Rob in the warehouse and work with him until he’d picked the job up. Straight away we got on and soon became friends. We had a laugh and I liked him and felt comfortable with him because he never made any remarks about the way I looked or dressed. I never heard him making any sexual innuendos like a lot of lads did, either. He was kind too and would sometimes offer to help me out on jobs.

  ‘I’ll lift that for you,’ he said one day when he saw me struggling with some heavy pallets.

  ‘No, I can do it, thanks,’ I told him.

  Being the stubborn fool that I am I was desperate to prove I could do it
despite the fact I nearly broke my back a couple of times!

  We got the same train into London of a morning and we started going to the pub after work with some of the other blokes from the warehouse. We even shared the same hobbies, like cycling and swimming.

  ‘Do you fancy going for a bike ride at the weekend, Deb?’ he asked one afternoon.

  I smiled at hearing him call me Deb. It was only Laraine who called me that but I liked it.

  ‘All right then,’ I said. ‘Although be warned, I’ll probably beat you.’

  After we’d known each other for eight months Rob invited me to come to his parents’ silver wedding anniversary party.

  ‘I’d really like you to meet my mum and dad,’ he said.

  I was flattered that he had asked me as all his family were there. His mum Shirley and dad Eddie were really nice.

  ‘You know Rob really likes you,’ Shirley told me as we stood chatting.

  I felt my cheeks go red.

  ‘Yes, he’s a good friend to me too,’ I said.

  I’d made a real effort to look smart for the party. I’d bought a new white blouse to wear rather than my usual man’s shirt and a black jacket and trousers. Halfway through the night one of Rob’s great uncles came over to chat to us. I could tell he was drunk.

  ‘Uncle Ray, I’d like you to meet Debbie,’ said Rob.

  He looked me up and down, frowned and said, ‘You look like a dyke.’

  I was used to it by then, so I just tried to laugh it off but I could see Rob was fuming.

  ‘You’ve got a bloody cheek saying that to her,’ he told him.

  ‘I’m really sorry about that,’ he said when he’d gone.

  ‘It’s OK, people have called me a lot worse,’ I smiled.

  That was Rob all over. He accepted me for what I was and he wasn’t ashamed to be seen with me. He never asked me if I was a lesbian or quizzed me about boyfriends. I felt so at ease with him and I grew to really trust him.

  He started to open up to me too.

  ‘I’m not looking for a relationship,’ I told him. ‘I’m just not interested.’

  ‘Me neither, it always ends in tears,’ he said.

  Rob explained how he had been engaged to someone but she had called it off a few weeks before the wedding and he’d been devastated.

  That New Year’s Eve we were having a party at home, so I invited Rob. All the family were there and he met David, Davina, Mum and Laraine.

  ‘I like your boyfriend,’ teased Laraine, giving me a wink.

  ‘Give over, Lal,’ I said. ‘We’re just mates.’

  I don’t know what made me say it but at the end of the night I turned round to Rob and asked him, ‘Do you want to stay over?’

  I was miserable, I knew he was miserable. It was New Year and I didn’t want to be on my own.

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll just go home.’

  I was upset as it had taken a lot of guts for me to ask him that. I didn’t want anything to happen, I just didn’t want him to leave. That was the first time I think I realised that I wanted us to be more than just friends. I liked the idea of having a boyfriend but it also terrified me.

  There was one other thing that made me see I’d fallen for Rob. He had a friend called Karen, who he always talked about. There was nothing going on between them but whenever we weren’t together, he seemed to be with her. I could feel my heckles rising whenever he mentioned her, and I realised that I was jealous. It was pathetic, really. I’d never even met the girl, and I knew they were just friends, but I hated her. Rob was the first man, besides David, that I trusted and felt safe with and I knew then I didn’t want to lose him. Thankfully he must have felt the same because over the next few months, we became boyfriend and girlfriend. There was no big conversation or announcement to people: we just sort of fell into it. Everyone had already assumed that we were a couple anyway.

  Just before Christmas, Rob and I were at work when we had to take some clothes up to the shop floor that we’d priced up and put security tags on. We both had great big pallets of stuff so we decided to go together and pile them all up on one truck.

  As we were heading to womenswear, we walked through the bridal department, where there was a wedding dress on display on a mannequin. Rob stopped next to it.

  ‘That’s nice, Deb,’ he said, pointing it out to me.

  ‘I wouldn’t be seen dead in one of them dresses,’ I said.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘I think you’d look lovely. Why don’t you try one on later?’

  ‘No way,’ I said. ‘They’re gross.’

  ‘Well, I think it would suit you,’ he said.

  I didn’t think any more of it until a few days later on Christmas Eve when Rob took me out for a meal to a Greek restaurant in Greenwich. We were sitting there when suddenly he grabbed my hand.

  ‘I love you, Debbie,’ he told me.

  ‘I know you do,’ I said. ‘I love you, too.’

  ‘No, I haven’t finished. There’s something I want to ask you.’

  Then he paused and said, ‘Will you marry me?’

  I was stunned but so pleased.

  ‘Of course I will,’ I smiled.

  He’d saved up for months and bought me a beautiful diamond cluster engagement ring that he’d chosen from a shop on Oxford Street.

  We went home and told my family: they were all pleased and I think very relieved. Rob got on well with all of them.

  ‘I’m so happy for you, Deb,’ said Laraine. ‘I always knew that you’d meet someone one day.’

  ‘Well, you might have but I didn’t,’ I joked.

  But I also had something serious to ask her.

  ‘When we get married, Lal, I’d really like it if you would be my chief bridesmaid.’

  ‘Aw, that would be brilliant,’ she said, throwing her arms around me.

  But despite my happiness at getting engaged, at the back of my mind there was one big stumbling block. I loved Rob and I wanted to marry him more than anything but I was terrified of having sex with him. I knew it had to happen sooner or later but I was dreading it.

  I know you’re thinking why didn’t I come clean and tell him what I’d been through? But I couldn’t. I’d never told a single soul about the abuse that I’d suffered as a child. I was worried that if I told Rob then he’d think I was easy or see me as ‘soiled goods’. What if he ran a mile and didn’t want anything more to do with me? This was the one and only relationship in my life that mattered and I didn’t want to mess it up.

  After we got engaged we needed to start saving up for the wedding, so Rob moved in with me at Mum’s. Occasionally we were intimate but we didn’t have sex.

  ‘Not until we’re married,’ I would tell him.

  It was a convenient excuse but Rob respected that and he never questioned it, which made me love him even more.

  We planned a big church wedding for the following September.

  ‘What you gonna wear, Deb?’ said Laraine. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to walk up the aisle in white trousers and a shirt?’

  Her and Mum laughed but I knew they were secretly worried.

  I probably would have worn a suit, given half the chance, but I knew how much it meant to Rob to see me in a wedding dress and I thought if I was going to do this properly then I wanted to wear one. But the idea still terrified me.

  ‘The last time I wore a dress I was nine years old,’ I told him.

  I remembered exactly as it was around the time when Patrick Ryan had started abusing me. I could even see it in my head – a little paisley mini dress with a Peter Pan collar.

  ‘Well, if you’re that nervous I’ll come with you if you want,’ Rob told me.

  ‘Will you?’ I said. ‘You’d really do that for me?’

  So the next weekend Rob and I went to Berketex on Oxford Street. I could see all the shop assistants thought it was a bit odd that I was bringing my fiancé to help choose my dress.

  ‘Isn’t it bad
luck if he sees it before the wedding?’ one of them joked.

  ‘Aw, Deb doesn’t believe in all that claptrap,’ Rob told her.

  It did feel strange trying all these long white dresses on and looking in the mirror. I’d spent so many years trying to make myself look as unattractive as possible and now I was trying on these big, extravagant gowns so that I could be the centre of attention for a day.

  ‘I don’t want anything too big and puffy,’ I told Rob.

  In the end he helped me pick out a lovely fitted dress with lace sleeves and a long train.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

  I didn’t think I’d ever feel beautiful but I liked it.

  Laraine came with me for a final fitting and to pick up her and Davina’s peach satin bridesmaid dresses.

  ‘Oh, Deb,’ she said. ‘You look gorgeous.’

  ‘I don’t feel like me in it,’ I told her.

  Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. This was my new start, my chance to be happy for once.

  But on the morning of the wedding, I was a wreck. Everyone else seemed so excited but I just felt sick. Laraine turned up at 6am, clutching a bottle of bubbly.

  ‘Wake up, Deb, it’s your big day,’ she said, but I didn’t want to get out of bed.

  David was giving me away and later when everyone else had gone on ahead to St Luke’s Church in Charlton Village where we were having the service, it was just the two of us left at home.

  I was sick with nerves. Not about marrying Rob but the fact that I was going to feel like such a fraud walking down the aisle in that white dress. There was such a big part of my life that my husband-to-be didn’t know about and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to be a proper wife to him. What if I couldn’t ever bring myself to have sex?

  I was annoyed that even on my wedding day the past was coming back to haunt me. There had been so many moments when I’d wanted to tell Rob, almost to test him to see what his reaction would be, but in the end I’d always chickened out. I couldn’t run the risk of losing him.

  David could see how worried and upset I looked and he came over and put his arm around me.

  ‘You know you don’t have to go through with it, Debbie, if you don’t want,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to prove anything to people. If you’ve got doubts then you don’t have to do it.