A Sister's Secret

by Debbie Grafham

  ‘Nice to see you, Mo,’ he said to Mum, giving her a kiss.

  I hung back and didn’t say a word.

  ‘Well, Debbie,’ he said to me. ‘Are you going to forgive your old dad, then?’

  ‘I’ve only come because Mum wanted to see you,’ I said coldly.

  He and Mum chatted for a while but I didn’t ask him any questions. He told us how he’d been working away, drifting around the country. No doubt in and out of prison as usual.

  ‘Debbie, I hear you’re married and have got little ones,’ he said. ‘When can I meet Rob and the kids?’

  I didn’t say a word. I felt ill at the thought of him being anywhere near my children.

  We only stayed an hour and I was relieved when we left. He and Mum had got on well and my worst fear was that she would let him back in her life. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.

  ‘I really hope you’re not going to get back with him,’ I told her.

  ‘That’s not going to happen, Debbie,’ she said and she was adamant.

  I really didn’t want my father to meet Rob or the kids but everyone kept going on about it.

  ‘He just wants to see his grandchildren, Deb,’ Laraine told me. ‘You can’t deny him that.’

  No one knew what he had done to me and even Rob was keen.

  ‘Why don’t we invite him over to us for Christmas?’ he said.

  Mum, David and Laraine were coming round and they all made me feel guilty that he was spending Christmas on his own.

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  I told myself that it was just one day and after that I didn’t have to have anything more to do with him. Rob knew that he hadn’t been very nice to us when we were younger but he didn’t know to what extent and there was no way I was going to tell him. I didn’t want Dad to ruin this good part of my life. I was hoping that my father would see the children once and then would soon lose interest. When he came round on Christmas Day, I was completely on edge. I watched him like a hawk and I made sure I never left him alone in the room with any of the children.

  Vicky was four by then and like me, she loved animals and was obsessed with getting a pet.

  ‘I really want a doggy,’ she said. ‘Please can we get one, Mummy?’

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, Granddad will get you a puppy,’ my dad piped up.

  His words sent a chill down my spine as I remembered Judy and the night that he’d brought her home for me.

  Thankfully, we got through Christmas. Dad moved to a flat in Charlton and even though he often rang and asked to come round, I always made excuses.

  One day in the New Year, David had given me a lift to the shops.

  ‘I know, Debbie, why don’t we call in and see Dad on the way home?’ he said. ‘He’d really like to see you.’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘Just drop me home.’

  But David and I started to argue about it and he got really cross.

  ‘I think you’re being really unfair, Deb,’ he yelled. ‘Why don’t you go and visit Dad and let the kids see more of him? He is their granddad.’

  He kept going on and on about it, saying how unreasonable I was being.

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ said David. ‘What’s your bloody problem with him? Why don’t you ever want to see him?’

  I’d had enough.

  ‘Because he raped me, that’s why,’ I yelled.

  David’s face fell.

  ‘He did what?’ he gasped.

  ‘He raped me, David. One night when I was nine.’

  ‘I’m going to kill the bastard,’ he told me.

  He obviously believed every word I’d said and I could see how angry he was. He put his foot down on the accelerator of his Ford Granada and we screeched off the road into a disused builder’s yard.

  ‘David, what are you playing at?’ I said.

  I was terrified about what he was going to do.

  ‘The dirty bastard,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe he did that to you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it,’ I said. ‘It’s not true about Dad, David. I was making it up.’

  ‘I can tell by your face that you’re telling the truth,’ he said.

  He was absolutely livid. Suddenly he put his foot down on the accelerator and we screeched down a dead end.

  ‘David!’ I screamed. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Then there was a massive bang and we both lurched forward as he drove into a brick wall.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ I said. ‘You could have killed us.’

  The car was a wreck and we were shaken up, but thankfully we were both OK.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Deb? Before I brought him back into all our lives.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ I said. ‘You’re the only one who knows.’

  When he’d finally calmed down we got the bus home.

  That night I couldn’t sleep as I was so worried about David. He’d been so angry when I’d told him about Dad and I was worried that he was going to do something stupid.

  I didn’t say anything to anyone but next morning I dropped the kids at Mum’s and went round to see David. I banged and banged on the door of his flat but there was no one there.

  I knew instantly where he was. Dad lived just around the corner from him, so I went round to his flat.

  Please don’t let him have done anything stupid, I prayed.

  David could be a bit of a loose cannon sometimes and I’d never seen him so angry.

  The front door to Dad’s flat was open and I was shaking with nerves as I walked in.

  ‘Dad?’ I shouted. ‘David?’

  ‘In here,’ said a voice.

  I walked into the living room to find David sat on the sofa. Then I saw the shotgun in his hand.

  ‘What have you got that for?’ I gasped. ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘I came round to kill him but he’s not here,’ said David.

  ‘Don’t be silly. Just put the gun down.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘He deserves to die for what he did to you.’

  ‘David, give the gun to me or I’m going to call the police,’ I urged him.

  But he shook his head. So I picked up my mobile and started dialling.

  ‘OK, OK,’ he said suddenly, getting up and handing me the gun.

  I was terrified. We got in the car and drove to the Thames.

  I gave the gun to David.

  ‘Now get out and throw it into the river,’ I said.

  I was so relieved when he did as I’d asked and got back in the car.

  By a complete coincidence, Dad had done one of his disappearing acts again. He didn’t come back to the flat that day and none of us ever saw him again. Little did he know that doing a runner had probably saved his life.

  ‘I don’t want anything more to do with that bastard,’ David told me.

  Thankfully he promised not to tell anyone about what had happened. It made me even more sure never to tell anyone about Patrick Ryan. Bad things happened when secrets came out. More than ever I was determined that my past was going to remain well and truly hidden.

  Chapter 12

  Haunted by the Past

  As the kids got older, we started to want a change of scene.

  ‘I’d love to live by the sea,’ said Rob.

  So we looked at Margate, Weston-super-Mare and finally settled on Eastbourne. I was all for it as I wanted to get as far away as possible from southeast London and the past. But the rest of my family was upset about us moving.

  ‘I don’t want you to go, Deb,’ said Laraine. ‘I’m really gonna miss you.’

  ‘We’re only an hour away on the train and I’ll call you every day,’ I told her.

  David wasn’t happy about it either, especially when, a few months later, Mum decided to move down to be near us. I’d got a new job as a care assistant at Eastbourne General Hospital and she offered to look after the kids while I went back to work. She was looking forward to a new start as well, but there was one thing on he
r mind.

  ‘I’m really worried about David,’ she told me. ‘I don’t like leaving him up there in London. He’s drinking a lot these days.’

  ‘He’s always liked a drink, Mum,’ I replied.

  ‘But in these past few years since his marriage broke up he’s really hit the booze,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen him without a can of Tennent’s in his hand.’

  I felt guilty as since we’d moved I hadn’t had much chance to visit him. We hadn’t even seen him at Christmas as he’d said he couldn’t afford to come down.

  Every New Year’s Eve David phoned and this year it was no exception. I could tell he was drunk when he rang, but if there was one night of the year when most people were sozzled, this was it.

  ‘Debbie, I’m not very well,’ he said. ‘Will you come up and see me tomorrow?’

  It didn’t sound like my happy-go-lucky brother and I was worried.

  ‘If you’re not well, David, then you need to see a doctor,’ I told him.

  ‘I ain’t going to no doctor, Deb.’

  I explained that I wanted to see him but that I was working the next day, on New Year’s Day.

  ‘How about I come the day after?’ I said. ‘I’ll get the train up on the second.’

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But if you don’t come up, will you promise me one thing?’

  ‘You know I will,’ I told him. ‘What?’

  ‘Will you tell the police about the abuse with the foster parents and what Dad did to you?’

  I was taken aback as we’d never ever spoken about Auntie and Uncle before.

  ‘Do you remember what they did to us, Debbie?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I do,’ I said. ‘You don’t ever forget something like that.’

  ‘Me neither. I often think about the awful things those sick bastards put us through but as a bloke, I find it really hard to talk about. I’ve never got over it, you know.’

  Poor David. Why had he never told me any of this before?

  ‘Please, Debbie,’ he slurred. ‘Promise me that you’ll report them. That you’ll tell someone what they did to us.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I promise you. There’s something else I need to tell you too, David.’

  ‘What?’ he slurred.

  ‘Remember when we lived at Coleraine Road and there was that man upstairs?’

  ‘You mean that bloke Pat?’ he said. ‘Michael and Shayne’s dad?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one,’ I told him. ‘I’ve never told anyone this before but when we lived there he abused me. He raped me, David.’

  The line went silent. David didn’t say a word.

  ‘I don’t believe this, Debbie,’ he sighed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? Why didn’t you tell Mum?’

  ‘Because he threatened to kill me, that’s why. I was so scared, David.’

  ‘You’ve got to tell the police about what’s happened to you, Debbie,’ he told me. ‘Otherwise it will get you in the end, just like it’s got me.

  ‘Do you promise me?’

  ‘I promise you, David,’ I said. ‘Now go to bed, you sound drunk.’

  ‘OK, Sis,’ he replied. ‘I do love you, you know.’

  ‘I know you do, David. I’ll phone you tomorrow and see you the day after that. You go and get some sleep.’

  I’d never heard him like that before but I could tell he was drunk.

  He won’t remember a single word of what he said to me in the morning, I thought. He’ll forget all about it.

  That suited me. The last thing I wanted was for the past to be dragged back up. I didn’t want to go to the police about the foster parents and Patrick Ryan. Who was going to believe us now after all these years?

  The next day I went to work as normal. I was going to phone David to see how he was feeling but I didn’t get home until late.

  I’ll call him in the morning, I decided. But at 8am the next day my mobile rang. It was his girlfriend, Emma.

  ‘It’s David,’ she said. ‘He’s not well.’

  I could hear the panic in her voice.

  ‘What do you mean by not well?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s on the floor and he won’t get up. He’s a funny yellow colour, Debbie, and there’s brown stuff coming out of his mouth.’

  I knew straight away that it was serious.

  ‘Emma, you need to phone an ambulance right now,’ I told her. ‘Stay on the mobile with me and call 999 from the landline.’

  She did as I said and I could hear her on the phone to the emergency services. Five minutes later I heard the rap on the door as the paramedics arrived.

  ‘What’s happening, Emma?’ I asked. ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘It’s OK, Debbie,’ she said. ‘He’s in the back of the ambulance now and they’re working on him.’

  Having had some medical training through my job, I knew that wasn’t a good sign otherwise they would have just driven him straight to hospital. Then suddenly I heard Emma gasp.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she said.

  ‘Emma, what is it?’ I yelled. ‘Talk to me! What’s happening?’

  Then the line went dead.

  I paced up and down the living room, ringing Emma’s mobile over and over again but there was no answer. I decided to phone Mum.

  ‘David’s really ill,’ I said. ‘He’s been taken to hospital in an ambulance but I can’t get hold of Emma to find out what’s going on.’

  She was as worried as me. Then I phoned Laraine and told her the same thing. I’d just ended the call to her, when my mobile rang. It was Emma.

  ‘How is he?’ I said. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Debbie, a doctor just phoned me. He was dead on arrival at Queen Elizabeth hospital.’

  ‘Dead?’ I said.

  Her words didn’t sink in. My brother couldn’t be dead: he was only thirty-nine.

  ‘They don’t know what happened until they do a post-mortem but they think he was bleeding internally,’ she said.

  It was such a shock, I went into autopilot.

  I rang Rob at work and said, ‘David’s dead.’

  Then I phoned my work and told them, ‘I won’t be in today because my brother’s just died but I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  I was numb. I couldn’t bear the thought of telling Mum, so Rob offered to go round and see her.

  Then Laraine phoned me. She’d just spoken to Emma and could barely speak for crying.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone, Deb, and we’ll never see him again,’ she sobbed.

  We were all devastated.

  The post-mortem results showed that David had a perforated duodenal ulcer which had haemorrhaged, and cirrhosis of the liver; both were caused by alcohol abuse. He’d been bleeding internally for quite a while and must have been in agony but Emma said he’d refused to see a doctor. I knew he liked a drink but I hadn’t realised to what extent. None of us had had any idea of how seriously ill he was.

  I went to pieces. I felt so guilty that I hadn’t gone to visit him and that I hadn’t ever tried to talk to him about the abuse we’d suffered.

  I went to see him at the chapel of rest. I put a chain and cross around his neck and cut off a lock of his dark curly hair.

  ‘I’m so sorry, David,’ I told him. ‘I should have been there for you. I was so wrapped up in my own problems, I didn’t know what you were going through.’

  At his funeral at Charlton cemetery, I insisted on helping to carry his coffin into the chapel.

  I blamed myself. He’d obviously found the foster parents’ abuse really hard to cope with. Instead of drinking himself to death, why hadn’t we talked about it? Perhaps I could have helped? I knew more than anyone how something like that could eat away at you for years.

  In the weeks after David’s death, I did something stupid, considering what had happened to him – I hit the bottle. I’d never been a big drinker. I liked a couple of glasses of wine but only if I was out and I never drank at home. But I started coming in from work and opening
a bottle of wine. All day I would look forward to getting home and taking that first gulp of white wine.

  ‘Do you fancy a glass?’ I’d ask Rob.

  But he didn’t drink so I’d end up finishing the whole bottle. I liked the way it made my head feel fuzzy and stopped me from thinking about what had happened.

  Then after a while, I’d get through one bottle so quickly that I would open another one and finish that off as well. It got to be a habit and before I knew it, it was out of control.

  I was having trouble sleeping too so I’d sit up most of the night, drinking and thinking about what David had said to me. Despite my promise to him, I really didn’t want to tell anyone about what the foster parents had done to us. What good would it do now? I couldn’t put myself through that but I felt so guilty as it was the one thing David had asked me to do.

  I didn’t want Rob to know how much I was drinking. I’d hide the empties in the normal rubbish rather than the recycling bin so that he couldn’t tell how much wine I was getting through.

  He knew something wasn’t right, though. I think he put it down to grief at first but then as the months passed, he started to suspect what I was doing.

  He saw the state of me one morning. I knew I couldn’t go to work at the hospital because I was still drunk.

  ‘You look terrible,’ he said.

  ‘I’m so tired, Rob,’ I told him. ‘I was up half the night. I don’t think I can go to work.’

  ‘You’re drunk, more like,’ he said. ‘I’m not stupid, Debbie. I can still smell the booze on your breath – I know how much wine you’re getting through.’

  I didn’t say anything; I just felt so ashamed.

  ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ he said. ‘If you’re not careful you’re going to end up like that alkie brother of yours.’

  Even though I knew Rob had my best interests at heart, I was furious.

  ‘My brother wasn’t just some pisshead,’ I shouted. ‘People have a reason why they drink too much! You don’t know what he was going through.’