Invisible Child

by Mary Hayward

  “Got a great idea—we go to Scotland for Hogmanay—just for once we doon’na tell anyone.”

  “All right, let’s get a coffee and you can fill me in,” I said.

  We wandered over to the Wimpy Bar.

  “Just run away—come on—it would be exciting! Go on, make a New Year’s resolution to do something unplanned for once.”

  “I’m not sure about...” I stopped. I thought, here we go on some madcap idea.

  We strolled over to the front of the cafe, ordered some coffee and drifted to the table with Joyce still all bubbly and shouting. She grabbed the arm of my coat and snatched me close to her; she excitedly barked in my ear like a puppy.

  “Come on! It’ll be a laugh—just on the spur of the moment.”

  “It will be a laugh—will it?” I asked. “Us getting caught stowing away on a train miles from anywhere, cold and hungry—tell me about it!”

  “Nay—doona be daft—us both going to Scotland for the New Year!” Her excitement was boiling over.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s a long way and, besides, how will we get up there?”

  “Well, it’s all arranged, it’s…”

  I didn’t let her finish. “Oooh nooo,” I shook my head slowly.

  She kicked the table. The clatter of slopping coffee cups broke the conversation. I reached over and grabbed some serviettes to mop up the mess on the table. “If you think I’m going to stow away on some train of yours…” I wasn’t finished before she interrupted mid-flow.

  “No—its no’ going to be like that, it’s...”

  I cut her off. “Like the last time? Then you’d better think again!”

  “No Mary.” She flicked the hair from her face. “We don’t have to.”

  I didn’t answer. I picked up my coffee cup in both hands. I needed to think about this one.

  The earthy smell of freshly brewed coffee burst into my face, like a break in moist summer clouds; it made me feel deceptively cosy against the coldness of the drab winter day.

  I should have turned it down in that instant, but she made the whole idea so exciting, and sound so attractive. It began to wear me down.

  She reached across the table and took my hand in hers.

  “Look,” she said, “my boyfriend will take us by car and they want me to come wi’ them. Awe, I did no’ want to go alone—and besides, it’ll be better wi’ the two of us!” She, like an expert salesman, had made her pitch and now she leaned back in her chair.

  “I don’t know.” I leaned back, sucked in a breath and blew into my hot coffee. “Who is the ‘them’ that we’re going with?”

  Joyce cupped her coffee mug in her hand, and, taking a sip, she left the familiar half moon of her pink lipstick on the rim. She glanced up at me, peering over the cup and grinning; her eyes so wide that they dazzled like diamonds.

  “Aye—that’ll be me boyfriend’s mate! He’s the one wi’ the car, an’ so he’ll be coming wi’ us.” I thought her face flushed a little, but I couldn’t be sure. I glanced up from my coffee.

  “But it’s such a long way, and besides,” I said, “where will we stay for the night?”—half expecting her to have some vague idea of us all sleeping in the car or something equally maverick. There was no way I was going camping or sleeping under the stars in midwinter Scotland.

  “It’s all worked out, do you no’ trust me?” she said. “Aye—look now, I have arranged for us to stay at my Nan’s place in Montrose.” She added: “Now all you have to do is keep ya little mouth shut, ya tell nobody and just come wi’ me.” She looked up into my eyes like some child asking for sweeties. I glanced back at her in disbelief, questioning her again.

  “What about the boys—where will they sleep while all this is going on?” I tried to find out once more what was going through her head. Perhaps I was hoping she would lose interest and drop it, I didn’t know, but the thought occurred to me that it was possible that the mate would be driving the car because her boyfriend had already lost his license. So I had a clue to the type of person he might be, although I told myself that his mate might be a nice guy, who knows?

  “All sorted!” She finished the last of her coffee. “And besides, there’s only four of us. So are you coming?” She looked up at me, her face beaming.

  I looked at her and just ran out of questions to ask, but inside I just didn’t want to go. I had a sense that it was all a horrible idea to go off four hundred miles or so with no preparation. But that was Joyce, flickering around the flame, chancing her arm; she loved it so much and I guess that’s how she got her jollies. I couldn’t deny her the fun.

  I had not met the boyfriend and never had a clue what he was like. I had not been impressed with her choices so far because she would dump all the nice boys she met. Nice boys were always cast aside in favour of others who treated her rotten, and for some reason I did not understand, she would chase after the rough ones all the more, as if to bury herself in more hurt.

  Sitting there a little blank, I pondered. Just for once, should I do something outside the box?

  I thought that because there would be four of us, it would be safe; although it did occur to me that I was always playing it safe. Perhaps this was a time to be different, and maybe Joyce was right for once. Something different and against my better judgement; yes, I thought, safety in numbers—that’s okay.

  I was uneasy about keeping the secret, but it promised to be a laugh and I suppose it made it all the more exciting in a dangerous way.

  Sharp intake of breath. “Oh—all right,” I said, “I’ll come.”

  “Oh great!” Her face shone like she had been given Christmas for the first time: childishly impish.

  I guess that Mum thought I was staying at Joyce’s for the weekend, and I suspect that Joyce’s Dad thought that she was staying at my place. I never told Mum and I didn’t think that she ever asked where I was staying. I packed a little overnight bag and walked over to Joyce’s place.

  Tony and Keith were waiting in Tony’s Black Ford Zodiac when Joyce and I arrived. Tony took our bags, Keith opened the doors, and we both piled into the back.

  As Keith drove off, I could feel my stomach churning. I didn’t have a good feeling about this from the moment I met the boys. They were not the type I would have gone out with. There was something of the night about them. I couldn’t be sure, but they made me uncomfortable.

  I struck up a conversation with Joyce’s boyfriend Tony.

  “Tony,” I said, “is this your car?”

  He swung round, looked up my skirt, and placed his arm over the seat.

  “Yeah, nice motor, what do you think?” Hs eyes flicked up to my face.

  “So why aren’t you driving then?” I made sure I caught his eye.

  “Keith likes driving.” He looked up my skirt again, then flicked his eyes across to Keith.

  I thought he was looking for Keith to back him up. I didn’t believe him.

  “Joyce tells me you lost your license,” I lied.

  “Ahmm, did she?” Tony shuffled back in his seat.

  Joyce stayed quiet.

  “So do you have a car, Keith?”

  “Not at the moment,” he said. “I smashed it up and the Insurance Company didn’t pay out. So I don’t have a motor at the moment.”

  I didn’t have to ask any more. The answers I got made my spine prickle with trepidation. It was just as I thought. Keith would not take Joyce, unless she found another girl to come with them.

  It left me feeling a little uneasy with Keith, and I didn’t care for Tony that much either. There was something about him that bothered me. I couldn’t pin it down; call it intuition if you like, but it was the way he would look away whenever I asked him a question. It didn’t seem right.

  Tony kept sneaking a glance at me whenever Joyce wasn’t looking, glancing down at my legs and up my skirt. Making suggestive remarks, and running Joyce down. I didn’t like that; after all, he was Joyce’s boyfriend, and I felt it was a bit of
a betrayal that he should be trying to make out with me.

  Joyce seemed not to notice, or if she did, she didn’t mention it to me. Anyway, I didn’t want to make a fuss and spoil the relationship she had with Tony, regardless of how I felt about him.

  It was a complete day of driving before we eventually came to a dingy flat on the edge of town. I didn’t know what town; in fact, I didn’t know where the hell we were. It was up north somewhere, but I didn’t think we had driven as far as Scotland.

  Eventually, we went in, up some narrow stairs, where we were greeted by two other boys. Three young girls were dancing in the living room as we brushed our way through. Tony dumped our bags in one of the bedrooms at the back whilst Keith waddled off to the toilet.

  Joyce and I were alone in the bedroom, Joyce laughing and joking to me about the boys, although I was feeling more than a little nervous when Tony and his mate burst in. Tony strode over to Joyce and grabbed her arm.

  “Fuck off down the road to the shops and get lost for an hour, will yer love?” He pulled her over to the door.

  I couldn’t believe it. I turned to Joyce and looked. She just waved goodbye and walked out of the room without saying a word.

  “Joyce!” I called out to her, but she just kept going, leaving me alone with her boyfriend and his mate.

  I often wondered if she was in on it and that they had planned to do this to me together, I didn’t know. She just walked off as if she knew where she was, and I was left there to be raped, murdered or God knows what.

  I didn’t have a good feeling, deserted by Joyce, and with all my worst fears about Tony. The sneaky looks, the jokes and sexual innuendoes and pointed remarks. They all added up. Had something been set up and was I going to be the patsy?

  Inside, I was churning with anger—anger at Joyce, leaving me to face them, all alone.

  God knows what they had in mind, but I imagined that sex was pretty high on the list. After all, they got Joyce out so she didn’t spoil anything. Now they thought they were going to have me, one after the other.

  As soon as she had gone, Tony came over to me and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away gently but firmly. I told him I wasn’t interested, and that he should wait for Joyce to come back, watch the television or something. But he carried on trying to kiss me and then I knew the set up.

  I knew all along what was going to happen the moment that Joyce mentioned it in the Wimpy Bar. The mate had to come because the boyfriend didn’t drive and then the four of us all going to some remote place from which we couldn’t get home. Not telling anyone where we had gone.

  Tony turned round to Keith. “It’s all right Keith, you can leave us and get something to eat.”

  Keith didn’t argue. He turned and left. Tony was clearly in total control.

  How could I not listen to my every instinct of survival! I should have listened to my inner self—all that I had learned from years of begging for food, and now...this awful mess!

  If I was raped, killed and dumped, no one would find us. No one would be looking for us up in Scotland—even if I were able to escape.

  I swallowed hard. How on earth would I get home? No transport or train fare. It was my worst nightmare and there I was, abandoned and alone, again!

  I wondered how many times in my short life I would be tested in my survival skills? How many more times would people I trust forsake me?

  “You’re Joyce’s boyfriend; you shouldn’t be doing this!”

  He paused for a moment. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed my arms and pulled me toward him. Again I shoved him away and told him I wasn’t interested in him, or his mate, and that I only came to be with Joyce.

  “I don’t fancy you!” I screamed at him. “Don’t do it!” I struggled to break free from his grip, but he wasn’t listening to anything I had to say, and he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  He slid his hands up to the side of my face and stroked my hair. I grabbed his hand and took it away.

  “I’m not interested. You shouldn’t be doing this,” I shouted.

  He paused for a moment, then tugged at my blouse. He pulled my shirt blouse open, started to fondle me with one hand, and then, holding me back with the other, he spun me round so quickly that I toppled backwards down onto the bed.

  He was now on top of me. “Just do as you’re told and you will be fine,” he whispered in my ear.

  Thwack.

  I smacked him one on the side of his ear, but it didn’t make any difference. He became even more aggressive, as his rough hands locked round my throat. If I didn’t know better, it felt as if he had been waiting for this moment all day, and he wasn’t about to give up. I didn’t know if Joyce had told him something about me, but I sensed an air of expectation. It was almost as if he had been waiting to do this for some time.

  I began to wonder if Joyce had told him I was a virgin, and that a good fucking would be good for me; whatever she had said to him certainly turned him on, and he seemed hell bent on taking my cherry.

  “We will see about that,” I muttered under my breath. I was just as equally determined that he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Not with me, he wasn’t.

  Each time he tried to fondle me, I just kept pushing his hands away. He kept up the pressure of kissing me and playing with my breasts, no doubt hoping I would give in. But he hadn’t counted on my resilience, and besides, he stank of body odour and sweat. There was no way that I would have sex with someone smelling like that, even if I liked him—which I didn’t. I was brought up with filth, I knew what it was like, and anyone who came near me had to be spotlessly clean: Tony had no chance!

  Despite my best efforts, he gradually succeeded in pulling the buttons from my blouse; then pulling my bra down to my waist, he lifted my breasts and started stroking them. I didn’t know if he thought that I was somehow going to lose my mind with erotic pleasure, but it didn’t happen. He straddled my legs, kneeling on top of me when I spotted my chance.

  Thump.

  I brought my knee up into his crotch with as much force as I could muster.

  It made no difference. The groan of surprise didn’t come as expected, and he just carried on regardless. Perhaps my aim was not accurate enough to cause the desired effect.

  He propped himself on one elbow and put his hand on my stomach, then slid it down and pulled up my skirt. He forced himself on me, kissing me, licking my nipples and trying to pull my legs apart until eventually I could stop him no more.

  I tried everything—everything I could to prevent him raping me. But he was physically too strong. He forced his knees between my legs, and in no time at all he had unzipped his trousers. He was pushing himself onto me.

  I made things as difficult for him as I could, but with his knees in the way I found I could no longer cross my legs.

  “Why do you want to do this?” I gazed directly into his eyes. “You’ve got Joyce. Why do you want to do this to me?”

  He continued the struggle. Then he looked up at my face.

  “She’s all soft and flabby,” he grunted. “You’re all firm and fresh, and I bet you’re a virgin?”

  His eyes seemed to widen. I wondered if the promise of virginal sex excited him. Silly mistake of mine—it focused his mind on the rape. I didn’t want that. I wanted to prick his social conscience, not excite him.

  “But don’t you care about what Joyce will say when she finds out?”

  Outside I heard the sound of music and laughter, as the other boys were all drinking, and I wondered if they knew what was going on in the bedroom. I didn’t know if it would be better to scream, or just talk. I decided to talk.

  Fiddling with his zip, he started to masturbate. He moved his knee. I crossed my legs. He tried to get his knee between my legs and force me apart. I grabbed at his hair and jerked his head back.

  “Won’t she be upset with you?”

  He didn’t say anything; instead, he concentrated on penetrating, grabbing hold of me with one hand round my
throat and forcing my legs apart. But his hardness softened as he struggled to rise to the moment.

  Half choking, I pushed him away. It was no use; he started to pull my panties to one side and use his rough fingers.

  “You won’t want to live with it after this,” I spat words at him.

  Grunt.

  “How will you get a girl’s respect after you do this to me?”

  Grunt.

  He paused for a minute and started pushing himself onto me. I let myself get upset. It was a mistake I corrected quickly.

  Whack.

  I caught him on the side of the face once more—I was determined not to give in. What else could I do?

  “You seem like a nice lad, Tony. Why do you want to rape me?”

  Grunt.

  “I am a real person with feelings!” I caught his eye in the hope that I could soften him, but he opened me and tried to enter. He made no response to my question.

  “People don’t want to be dominated, Tony.”

  He glanced up at me and fiddled with himself again.

  “How can you face some girl you like—after raping me?” I tried the broken record technique.

  “How, Tony—how?”

  Suddenly he lost his erection and he fell back on his haunches. His face was flushed.

  For the first time I began to realise I was getting to him with my questions. It was forcing him to think about what he was doing. He shot me a sudden glance and then looked away: I sensed his guilt.

  “I am a real person, Tony.”

  He took no notice.

  “My name is Mary—I am not just someone to fuck.”

  He fiddled with himself again.

  “How are you going to live with the memories, the shame of it all? How will you deal with the consequences of this?”

  Leaning back onto his knees, and resting on the bed with the other hand, he tried to regain his erection. For the first time I noticed that both his hands were occupied.

  Masturbating with one hand and supporting his weight on the bed with the other, I realised that this was the last opportunity for me to break free. Besides, if I were right, then his mate would soon be banging on the door wanting to rape me as well.