My hands were numb with cold and my teeth were chattering by the time I knocked on her door. I’d been imagining us curled up on Nina’s bed, giggling and chatting the way we had at Great Ormond Street. But one look at her face as she opened the door told me it wasn’t going to be like that.
‘Come in for a minute, but I’m sorry, Nikki, you can’t stay,’ she said immediately. ‘My Mum knows you’re here and she’s ringing Rhodes Farm. You’re going to have to go back.’
We went into Nina’s bedroom and she dug out a pair of her trainers for me to put on my freezing feet as I warmed my hands on a radiator. I could see her mum hovering in the hallway. I knew she already hated me, seeing me as a ‘bad influence’ on Nina.
Five minutes later I was back on the street again. I took the tube to Camden Town and wandered around for hours. It was so cold that my bones were aching and I couldn’t stop crying.
After a couple of hours I looked through the steamed-up window of a café. Inside it looked warm and welcoming, so I popped in and asked to use their toilet and begged a cup of hot water. I sat at a table, cradling the mug in my hands and trying to get just a little bit of warmth back into my body.
I didn’t know it then but when Dad got the call from Rhodes Farm saying that I was missing he thought I might go to Camden and spent hours driving around the streets there. He even went into the same café just five minutes after I’d left it.
I carried on wandering about aimlessly. Then I rang Mum’s sister, Auntie Rita, and asked if I could come round, but she said no. So I carried on walking, getting colder and colder until my hands were turning blue and I felt more lonely than I could remember. I knew it was pointless, I had to go home. I caught a tube and was soon at Mum’s doorstep, but I’d barely got inside the door before she had turned me round and bundled me back in the car for the return journey to Rhodes Farm.
There I was presented with a snack and told I’d have to wear my pyjamas for the next three days for running away. And I was put straight on total supervision, or ‘total’ as we called it. People in prison probably get more freedom than we did when punished in this way. All the girls on ‘total’ would have to sit in the brown kitchen all day long so they could be observed every minute by staff. We’d do schoolwork during the day, then watch television in the evening. And that was it.
The only time you were allowed out of that room was to go to the loo or take a shower. Even in the toilet a member of staff would come into the cubicle with you, shut the door and stand there with their back to you as you had a wee or a poo. It must have been horrible for them.
At night they would roll out lightweight mattresses on the floor of the kitchen and we would sleep on these next to one another. The lights would be kept on all night and a staff member would stay awake in an armchair watching us in case anyone tried any tricks.
I remained on ‘total’ for months and all that time my weight could only go up because there was just no chance of getting away with any of my dodges.
Running away, though, had reminded me what it was like outside of institutions, and gradually an idea was taking shape in my mind. I wanted to get out of there and places like it. I wanted to live a normal life, surrounded by normal people. I started wondering what Lena looked like now and if she and my other friends had boyfriends or were going out to discos. I’d like to go to discos, I thought. I’d like to have a boyfriend. I’d like to have a life.
For years at Great Ormond Street, Sedgemoor and Huntercombe going home had never really been an option and so my only means of having any control over my life had been to starve myself. But at Rhodes Farm they’d told me that very soon I would be back in the big, wide world again, like a normal person. And I craved that desperately.
But the amount of food being served up was unbearable. I felt bloated and sick all the time. As the weeks passed I felt I no longer needed help from Rhodes Farm. Because I didn’t want to starve myself to death any more, I could cope on my own now.
And because I was in a hurry to get on with living, I was determined to run away again.
CHAPTER 18
I WANT TO LIVE
I eased myself through the tiny gap in the window of the telephone room and jumped down silently into the garden.
I’d done it. I’d escaped from Rhodes Farm – again. With a bit of planning it hadn’t even been that difficult. When I was on ‘total’ the only time I had a moment to myself all week was during my Thursday evening phone call to Mum. So I persuaded Sara to come down to the telephone room while I was there, bringing with her my trainers and a jacket. Then, cutting short my conversation with Mum before the nurse was due to escort me back upstairs to the brown kitchen, I jumped out of the window and was away.
It was already dark outside and a chilly evening but I started running and headed for the end of the tree-lined garden. I knew from our lunchtime walks exactly which way I needed to go to get to the tube station without being spotted.
Rhodes Farm was next to a church and I had to run through the graveyard if I was going to keep away from the road. It was pitch-dark and really spooky and I kept tripping over every bit of uneven ground, but all I could think was that I had to keep going.
From the graveyard, I had to jog through a tunnel before I emerged on to Mill Hill Broadway, from where it was just a couple of hundred yards to the train station. I slipped through the ticket barrier when no one was noticing, then ran down to the platform and on to the first train that pulled in.
I’d already decided where I was going – Taunton. I knew I couldn’t go home as Mum would take me straight back to Rhodes. And I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Besides, I’d quite enjoyed my time at Sedgemoor and liked the idea of being a long way from London.
Once I was on the train at Paddington I went into the toilet and lay on the floor the whole way to avoid the ticket collector. It was filthy and stank but I didn’t dare go outside in case I was caught and made to get off the train.
It was about one o’clock in the morning when the train finally pulled in at Taunton. I came out of the station and walked down to the centre of the town. I was still wearing the short black cotton flowery skirt and thin coat I’d had on when I left Rhodes Farm and it was perishing cold.
Now I was in Taunton I realised I had absolutely no idea where I was going next. I walked along a deserted street, rehearsing in my mind what I’d say if anyone asked me what I was doing. I’d decided to tell them I’d had an argument with my mum and run away from home, simple as that. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask any further questions.
After half an hour I realised I was just going to have to find somewhere to sleep until the morning. I looked around and saw the recessed doorway of an estate agent. I found a box and wrapped it around me, like I’d seen homeless people do. I knew I’d rather sleep on that than the filthy ground, and I told myself it would soon be morning anyway. I lay still and clamped my eyes shut but it was too cold to sleep. My body was aching with the biting cold and I felt utterly miserable.
Every minute seemed like an hour. I don’t think I can do this, I thought. But I didn’t know what else to do. I stared at my watch, following the minute hand with my eyes as it dragged itself around. Please, morning, hurry up and come.
I had a little money to buy food with later and I started to feel confident I could look after myself now. I’d been more compliant at Rhodes and knew how much I could eat to be healthy, so I felt I was never going to get really ill again. Meanwhile, if I could just get through this one night, everything would be OK.
But I’d been lying there for about an hour, every fibre of my body crying out from the cold, when I realised I just couldn’t do it after all. A couple of minutes later I looked up and saw a bloke walking past. He looked quite respectable with his smart suit and neat hair, so I called out quietly, ‘Excuse me.’ It took him a couple of seconds to focus on me and I could tell he’d had a couple of drinks.
He looked me over slowly and I knew exactly what he was se
eing – a skinny little girl with pink hair who was a long way from home and way out of her depth.
‘Oh my God, what are you doing out at this hour?’ he said.
I already had my well-rehearsed answer: ‘I’ve had a row with my mum and I’ve run away from home. Do you know if there any hostels or anything around here I can stay at, because I’ve got nowhere to go?’
He stared at me for a while, obviously taking in the situation, and then said slowly, ‘I want you to call your mum now. I want you to ring her and tell her that you’re OK.’
It was before everyone had mobile phones, so we walked in awkward silence to the nearest phone box. He stood outside while I dialled the number. It rang just once before Mum picked up, so I knew she’d already been told I’d run away. ‘Where are you, Nikki?’ she said, the panic clear in her voice.
‘I can’t tell you, Mum,’ I said. ‘I just want you to know I’m OK.’
Before she had the chance to say anything else, I put down the phone, pushed open the heavy door and stepped outside.
What I didn’t realise was that Mum had recognised the code that flashed up on her handset as the one for Taunton. She assumed I’d gone back to Sedgemoor, so that put her mind at rest a little bit.
Outside the phone box the man looked me up and down again. ‘Right, come back to my hotel and you can stay there the night. There are two single beds in the room and you can have one of them.’
He could have been a rapist or an axe murderer but that didn’t occur to me then. I was just desperate to be somewhere warm.
We walked further down the street to his hotel, through the deserted reception and up to his room.
‘You take a shower and relax while I pop downstairs for a bit,’ he said.
I had the most gorgeous long, hot shower and towelled myself dry before putting my clothes back on and climbing into bed.
Amazing, I thought. A free night in a hotel and no one here to make me eat. This is living it up!
I hadn’t even closed my eyes when there was a sharp knock on the door. I climbed out of bed and opened it to find a policeman and a policewoman staring at me. ‘Hello, we’d like to take you down to the police station,’ they said.
My heart sank. It really had been too good to be true. My kind stranger must have gone straight downstairs and shopped me to the police. I can understand now why he did it, but at the time I was gutted.
It was 3am when we arrived at the police station. The policeman pointed me to a chair, then sat down opposite me.
‘OK, love, you’ve got two hours and then at five o’clock we’re going to sling you in a children’s home, so why don’t you just tell us where you’re from and you can be on your way home?’
Hallelujah! I thought. A children’s home is exactly where I want to be – I’ll be able to eat what I want, no one hassling me. Don’t wait till five, do it now.
But I didn’t say that. I just sat there sullenly, kicking my feet backwards and forwards.
‘Come on, then,’ he said, pushing my chair leg with his foot. ‘Where are you from?’
I gave him the same old bullshit about having an argument with my mum and running away from home. But I wouldn’t tell him my name or where I was from.
‘Skinny little cow, aren’t you?’ he went on. ‘When did you last eat? And why aren’t you wearing more clothes for the time of year?’
By this point I hated him and had made up my mind I wasn’t telling him another thing.
Come on, five o’clock, I kept thinking. I really want to go to sleep now – I’m so tired.
At 5am they pushed me into a police car and took me to a children’s home on the outskirts of the town.
The home was like a big family house. It was a bit shabby but warm and had a friendly feeling about it. A kind-looking woman helped me upstairs to a room with clean sheets and a rough but chunky blanket on the bed. What a result, I thought. I could stay here for years. I guess other kids would have been horrified by living somewhere like that but I’d been in and out of institutions for the past seven years and this seemed like a nice one.
I told them the same dodgy story about running away from home, and even if they didn’t believe me they didn’t give me a hard time about it. Then they gave me £50 to go into the town to buy some warmer clothes with some of the other girls who lived there. The girls were really nice and we chatted all the way there and back, but I was careful not to give too much information away to them either.
In the evening we sat around watching films and having a laugh. Some of the kids were total nutcases but I was used to that. I’d grown up with nutcases.
I stayed there for five nights. And I ate. I’d already made the decision at Rhodes Farm that I would eat because I wanted to live.
I called Mum a few times from the children’s home. I told her where I was and what was going on but said I still didn’t feel ready to come back, not yet.
Then one afternoon I called her again.
‘Hi, Mum,’ I said. ‘I want to come home – I want to get better.’
I could tell by the silence that followed that Mum wasn’t sure whether it was another of my con tricks or if this time I was serious.
‘But I don’t want to go back to Rhodes,’ I continued. ‘I can do it on my own now.’
Mum offered to come straight down to collect me but said I had to go back to Rhodes Farm. We couldn’t agree but the next day she turned up anyway.
We had a long wait before our train back to London, so we went into Debenhams department store for lunch. We sat at a table and I said, ‘Mum, I’m going to prove to you that I am going to eat – that I can eat and that I am coming home for good. I’m going to do this if you promise not to take me back to Rhodes.’
I chose one of those little picnic boxes they have for children and I ate the lot – no fuss, no bother. Mum couldn’t believe it. She didn’t dare believe that our nightmare might be coming to an end. We spent the train journey home talking and laughing like the old days.
Mum had changed a lot too and it was good. For years she had been having counselling at the different units treating me but then she had met a therapist who helped her turn everything around. She taught Mum to be true to herself and to stop pleasing other people all the time and showed her she could be a good mother and look after herself.
I think when Mum really started to believe that, it was the point she was transformed from a quivering mess into someone strong enough to keep her daughter alive.
So she had got a job as a radiographer’s assistant. I hadn’t liked it at first as it meant she wouldn’t be there to attend to my every beck and call any more. But I got used to it.
And she had become firmer with me too. She was able to look at things more dispassionately and less emotionally. Sometimes she’d even get tough with me. ‘For God’s sake, Nikki. Just stop this behaviour,’ she’d say when I started one of my fits.
She had kitted herself out with a whole new wardrobe – slinky dresses, high heels and pretty underwear. For the first time in ages she paid attention to the way she looked.
Maybe seeing Mum get stronger during the time I’d been at Huntercombe and Rhodes Farm made me feel safer deep down. Maybe it took away so much of the uncertainty in my life and had helped me on my road to recovery.
Back home from Somerset, Mum cooked me a plain piece of cod and some new potatoes, followed by a yoghurt and a piece of fruit. I ate the lot.
After dinner we sat down with Tony and watched telly. I felt normal. After all those years I was doing what normal people did on a Tuesday evening. And it was great.
For a week I lived at Tolcarne Drive and loved it; sleeping in my bedroom, going shopping with Mum, hanging out with Natalie and seeing my old school friends.
I’d begged Mum not to tell Rhodes Farm that she had seen me if they called, and she agreed. She wanted me home too.
One afternoon I went round to Carly’s house as she was back home and only living 20 minutes’ walk away. Then
the phone rang – it was Mum and she needed to speak to me urgently.
‘You’ve got to come home straight away,’ she said. ‘I’m taking you back to Rhodes Farm.’
I felt like I had been kicked in the belly. ‘No, Mum, no,’ I begged down the phone. ‘You promised, you promised.’
‘I’ve got no choice, Nikki,’ Mum said, her voice desperate. ‘Social Services have been on the phone. They must have worked out you were home, and they’ve said if I don’t take you back now they will take you away and section you. If they do that you could be locked up until you’re 18.’
Mum was crying and I could tell there was going to be no way out of this one.
Within five minutes she was outside waiting to pick me up. I hugged Carly goodbye, dreading my return to Rhodes Farm.
Back there I was put straight on three days in pyjamas and total supervision again.
I’ve just got to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, was all I could think.
I’d been out of there for a fortnight and it had really made me realise for the first time how much I was missing the outside world. I was now certain I wanted a life outside of hospitals and eating-disorders units. They say that if you spend years and years in prison you don’t see a way out, you don’t even want to get out because it has become your life. That is what had happened to me even before I went to Rhodes Farm. I was so institutionalised that for years I couldn’t even think about going home – I didn’t even know about the outside world any more. But the thought of being able to go home opened up a whole world of new possibilities for me.
However, while I’d been away my weight had fallen way below my target, so I had loads of catching up to do. I started bingeing in a bid to get my weight up so that I’d be discharged as quickly as possible.
I’d steal bottles of full-cream milk from the fridge and neck the whole lot while I was in the shower if I had a moment unsupervised.
Then one night we were allowed into the video room to watch a film as a special treat. On the way down I sneaked into the pantry and stole a loaf of bread. Once the film started I sat behind a sofa and ate the lot.
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