by Toni Maguire
That’s what I mean – he was capable of those little acts of kindness.
Of course, I know the word for what he was doing now.
It’s called grooming.
I would like to say it stopped there.
It didn’t.
Chapter 19
I had no idea of the repercussions that a small act of mine would cause.
It happened one day when I was visiting my grandmother after school. My parents actually rang and told her they were delayed so I could stay a little longer. They had already asked Ben, my mother told Gran, and my cousin was OK about making the journey a little later.
I heard my grandmother offering for me to stay the night but it was clear from her response of ‘Oh, all right then,’ that Carl was sticking to the rule of no sleepovers during the week. Not that it happened very often on weekends either – another reason for me to resent him and all those rules of his.
I can’t remember why I was standing in the kitchen just under a shelf – I have only the memory of one of my uncles raising his arm to lift something down from it. I didn’t see my good-natured uncle getting something down for Gran, what I saw instead was a large hand wearing a thick gold signet ring on his little finger, raising above my head. Fear suddenly stirred from its slumbers and screamed out at me, It’s going to come down and hit you on your head and send you crashing to the floor again! I raised my arms instinctively to ward it off and a whimper left my mouth as I cowered against the wall.
‘Whatever is the matter, Emily?’ my gran asked, moving swiftly towards me. ‘Come here,’ she added softly and her arms enveloped me and held me tight as I burst into tears.
I could hear my uncle talking and Aunt Lizzy asking what he’d done to frighten me so, but everyone in the room knew that it wasn’t him who had caused me to be so upset. As the word ‘bruises’ was mentioned, I heard a few shocked gasps.
‘I said our Emily had changed since Betty met that man,’ my uncle stated.
Gran shot him a look, one that told them all that they must choose their words carefully as I could hear them.
‘Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be frightened of here,’ my grandmother whispered in my ear.
Using all my willpower, I managed to stifle my sobs.
‘Now, tell me what upset you so,’ she continued once she saw I was calmer.
But Fear refused to be quiet; instead, it told me to say I didn’t know and those were the words that I repeated to Gran.
‘You know you can tell us anything? You won’t get into any trouble here. You know that, don’t you? So, is there anything you want to tell us, Emily?’ she asked.
‘No,’ I whispered.
Good old Fear – it certainly knew how to shut a child up all right.
My grandmother said little more about what had frightened me. A few minutes later, the phone rang, making me shake. I knew without asking that it was them summoning me back home.
I wanted so badly to stay where I was, wanted to tell Gran what had frightened me so much, beg them not to send me back, but Fear quickly blocked my words as it murmured, Think of the punishment you could get if you talk.
‘Don’t say anything, will you?’ I whispered to Gran.
‘No, of course not, darling. It was just a misunderstanding, wasn’t it?’ she said.
Looking up at her, I saw a mixture of concern and anger in her eyes before she quickly changed the subject: ‘This is the first weekend that you’ll be staying with your dad, isn’t it?’
It was something I was nervous about. I hadn’t seen him since he’d walked out just over two years ago and hadn’t I heard repeatedly that was because he didn’t love me as much as Carl did? It was only because the courts had told him that he had to take some responsibility that he had agreed to have me to stay.
At that age I was unaware that this was another of Mum’s lies. How I wish I had known that in fact Dad had to fight both Carl and my mother in court to obtain shared custody. And who had spoken up for him – Gran. She had said whatever the differences between her daughter and her former partner, she only ever witnessed him being a good father.
No doubt another reason Carl was wondering how he could separate Mum from her family.
* * *
The one bright spot on the horizon about the arranged visit was that I was going to see Molly again. She wouldn’t be a puppy now for she must have grown over the months since Mum had told me my father had her – I just hoped she hadn’t forgotten me.
Not that, for some reason, I mentioned her to Gran when she said, ‘I expect you’re looking forward to seeing him, aren’t you?’ A question I managed to say yes to, though it was not completely true. My answer, I noticed, placed an expression of something like relief on her face.
When she helped me on with my coat, she just said, ‘You know we’re always here for you, don’t you? Any problems, you come to me.’
‘Yes,’ I said and received another hug before she handed me over to Ben to escort me home.
I had heard Aunt Lizzy saying maybe one of them should take me this time but Gran shot them a warning look and said, ‘Later, we’ll talk about that later.’
Ben must have heard what had happened – I should think the whole family knew about it by the time I left. I expect he had been asked to try and persuade me to confide in him. For once he didn’t call me ‘Sprat’ or come out with any of his usual gentle teasing. Instead, he wrapped his hand round mine.
‘Look, Emily,’ he told me gently, ‘is there anything you want to tell me? We’re friends, aren’t we? And friends can tell each other everything.’
Don’t even think about it! screeched Fear. Don’t trust him, he’ll just repeat it all to his parents.
So, I ducked my head, unable to bring myself to look at him when I said, ‘I’m all right.’ I knew he sensed that I was holding something back. He clearly knew I was still upset and squeezed my hand gently, but that didn’t stop me noticing that the expression on his face was the same as I had seen on Gran’s.
Once home, it was my mother who opened the door to us.
‘Oh, thanks for bringing her back. Come on in, won’t you, Ben?’ she said brightly.
‘Can’t,’ he mumbled. ‘Got homework to do.’
Placing a hand on my shoulder, he said, ‘Night, Sprat,’ then turned and walked away, leaving a void in the space he had occupied.
* * *
If I had thought my gran would simply forget what had happened, I was wrong. That evening, she rang Dad and offloaded her concerns down the line. Now, of course I don’t know exactly what was said, but I can imagine she was blunt enough – Gran was never a woman to mince her words. Certainly, the family believed Carl was guilty of hitting me.
I know she told my father about that evening and no doubt voiced some of her suspicions as well. The Court ruling now allowed him access every other weekend. Luckily, he was due to pick me up from school that Friday. I expect he told her that he would try to get to the bottom of my being so upset then.
Not that those alternative weekends always happened, as neither Lily nor my parents were enthusiastic about those stays.
Both sides came up with various excuses ranging from a birthday party in my mother’s family to Lily having a dose of flu and then the final excuse of Lily’s that sent Mum into an apoplectic rage – morning sickness, Lily was pregnant.
Still, neither side had been able to come up with a good enough excuse for that first weekend. Mum, true to form, made it clear that she was surprised at my father wanting to see me – ‘I suppose it’s to get back at me,’ she said with a grimace when she told me about the arrangement.
Trust Mum to think that it was all about her!
‘Anyhow, good luck to you, sleeping there with that slut! And having to be nice to the man who walked out on both of us. But you go, if you want to.’
‘Betty, she doesn’t have a choice, does she? He has a legal right to see her,’ said Carl as he walked into the kitche
n. ‘We just want you to remember we’re your family, Emily, the ones who love you. Isn’t that right, Betty?’
‘Of course it is,’ she agreed, giving me a quick hug.
‘So, don’t forget that, will you, Emily? We’re going to miss you,’ he persisted.
‘We certainly will,’ Mum said breezily.
All I can say is that children have very short memories, or perhaps they can easily be made to believe what they want to. Because on hearing those words, I started to feel a warm glow inside me.
* * *
I took my overnight bag to school. Clearly, Mum didn’t wish to see my dad’s face at the door. When I walked through the gates later that day, there he was waiting for me.
‘Hello, Emily,’ were the first words he spoke.
If I was hoping for a hug or an ‘Oh, how I’ve missed you!’ I was due for a disappointment. But then my father wasn’t someone who showed much emotion.
It’s a shame that when I met him that day, I had no knowledge of how hard he had fought to get joint custody. If I had, I might have felt more secure, more loved by him. Then maybe I would have talked to him.
Sadly, I didn’t.
He picked up my overnight bag and walked with it to the car.
‘I thought we could go to a coffee shop, spend a little time together,’ he told me. ‘You still like ice cream?’
Well, what child can resist that offer? Certainly, not me – not at that age, anyway. Though the fact he clearly wanted a chat with me was surprising. That was not something he had requested very often, or to be honest, at all. There was something about me that seemed to unnerve him. As I grew older, I realised that he was not the only one I had that effect on.
Once we were settled in the coffee shop and half of the three scoops of ice cream were already sliding down towards my stomach, he leant across the table and asked if I was happy at home.
‘What do you mean?’ I said, playing for time.
‘Is your mother’s man good to you?’
And there was my escape route. Tell him, said a voice inside my head, tell him about the beatings, tell him about him wanting you to touch his body and tell him about the showers.
And then what will he do? asked Fear and my mind went blank.
It was Fear that made my stomach clench and removed my voice from my throat.
‘Come on, you can tell me, I’m your dad,’ he persisted. ‘Is there anything wrong at home?’
And what would you do if I told you? was the next question that flew into my head.
Ring Mum to confront her and she would deny everything. Then she would tell Carl and he would just about kill me.
Too young and too frightened to recognise the Get Out of Jail card lying in front of me, instead I allowed Fear to cement in another bar of the prison that Carl was busy creating.
‘No, everything’s all right,’ I said.
‘Really?’
He looked at me hard as he asked and I dropped my gaze to the bowl.
‘Yes, really,’ I said, spooning another lot of ice cream into my mouth.
Change the subject, Fear told me. Ask him about Molly. Ask how she is because you’ll be seeing her soon.
So, I did, only to see a blank look appear on his face.
‘What did your mother tell you?’
I saw a flash of temper flicker in his eyes as he asked.
‘That you took her and the TV,’ I managed to say, for I could feel a coil of dread unravelling inside me.
He was quiet for a moment and I think I knew already what he was going to say.
‘Look, Emily, your mother lied about that. OK, I took the television, it was a rental and it was in my name, but not your dog.’
‘Then, where is she?’
I guess now that he had no idea where she was. Most probably, my mother had dumped her at a refuge, but Dad wanted to give me some words that would console me a little.
‘Look, she told me she couldn’t manage and that she had found her a really good home.’
‘Then I could visit her, couldn’t I?’ I asked, tears threatening.
He sighed and picking his words carefully, said, ‘I don’t know where they live, the family who have her.’ He then tried to reassure me again that she was being well looked after.
Deep down, hadn’t I known ever since my mum turned up without my puppy that Dad hadn’t got her? She never liked the bother of having her in the house – not that she could tell my gran that. Her opportunity came when Dad left: she could blame him and appease her mother. But by then, I guess Gran already knew – nothing much escaped her gaze.
Dad didn’t ask me any more questions about Carl, just tried to make conversation about school, then we went back to where he lived.
I can’t say Lily’s welcome was a warm one – in fact, she seemed pretty pissed off at having me to stay. Paul, on the other hand, was happy enough.
Once we were in his room playing, I asked him if what my dad had said was true.
‘He never brought Molly here,’ he told me. ‘But I heard him on the phone tell your mother she was a bitch, giving your puppy away.’
So there was my answer.
Did I tackle her? No, knowing what she had done was another secret I kept tucked away. She must have wondered if he had told me the truth, but I was not going to give her the satisfaction of having to justify it.
Dad did not bring it up again. When he took me home on the Sunday morning, I glanced at him, wondering if he was going to walk me to the door. Instead, he handed me my case, told me he would see me soon and then got back in his car.
‘See you soon,’ he said with such a warm smile that I wished I had told him that I had missed him.
Dad might not have wanted to face my mother or Carl, but that didn’t stop him ringing her.
How do I know?
She was foolish enough to tell me.
She asked me what I had told him about Carl and looked relieved when I just said, ‘Only that he helps with my lessons.’ That’s when I knew that if he wasn’t scared of my talking, she certainly was.
The short-term benefit for me now seeing my dad was that the beatings stopped for a while. In fact, it seemed Mum and Carl were going out of their way to be pleasant. He even brought home a present for me – a bicycle.
I should have known when he used the word ‘teach’ as opposed to ‘show’ that learning to ride my new bicycle was not going to be the treat Carl had made it out to be. However, I was still too thrilled at having that present to pay any thought to how I was going to learn to ride it. Lost in my daydream of joining my cousins on their bike rides, I had not taken in the word which normally broke me out in a cold sweat.
I had watched two of my younger cousins learning how to master that two-wheeled machine. One of them stood behind the other holding the saddle as they learnt to balance. Then wobbling all over the place, they had managed a few yards before starting all over again. By the end of the day, whooping away with glee, they were pedalling on their own – that’s what I hoped was going to happen to me. Though I did wonder why he wouldn’t let me practise nearer our home. I knew he had said he wanted to go where there was no traffic, but we could have gone over to my aunt’s house and used their driveway – that would have been a safe place to learn. But no, he wanted to make it a morning out in the fresh air and told my mother and I to wrap up warm.
Mind you, I should have guessed that Carl was not going to make learning to ride a bike easy – that was not his style. It was just that he had been so nice to me for several days that my defences were lowered so I didn’t pay much thought to how he was going to do it when I climbed excitedly into the back of the car. But then, I had not yet worked out all of his controlling methods. One was to be so angry with me for several days that I quaked with fright, making me feel then that there was nothing I could do right and I must be as stupid as he kept telling me I was. Then, just when I was feeling as low as it was possible to feel, he would suddenly change and be affable
and praise me. And what was my reaction? I began to crave those times when he smiled at me and told me I was special. So, every time he lost his temper, I blamed myself, even when I felt deep down that I had done nothing wrong.
It took me a long time, but eventually, I worked out exactly what his game was: be nice, praise Emily and then be angry and let her spend a couple of days doing everything she can to win back that nice, smiling person he had the art of showing her. I know now, looking back on that day in the woods, what his aim was – to make me seem ungrateful.
A failing that he would be able to berate me for endlessly.
Unaware of any of that then, I smiled back at him when he asked, still in his warm, friendly voice, whether we were both comfortable. Receiving a yes from each of us, he responded cheerfully, ‘Right, off to the country then!’ as he started the engine and pulled away.
My excitement quickly drained away when he drove into a densely wooded area. Glancing around, I saw, under the thick canopy of leafy branches, what lay around me – thick bushes, broken stone walls and steep paths covered with fallen twigs and branches.
‘Now, here’s a good place to start,’ he told me, as he took my bicycle out of the boot. ‘I’m going to choose a path for you that’s easy and we’ll see how you get on, all right?’
What could I say? Not that I thought for one moment it was going to be all right. Up until I saw those rocky, twisting paths, his good humour had tricked me into believing that this was going to be a fun day out.
Just try and stop yourself from falling off, muttered Fear, you know he’ll like it if you do.
* * *
Carl made it clear that I was to manage on my own right from the start. No holding the saddle until I felt ready to go it alone. Instead, with me pushing the bike behind him, he walked up to the top of a steep slope. Not that it was too high, thank goodness, or I might not be telling this story.
‘Now, up you get,’ he told me.
I tried to sit on the saddle and put my feet on the pedals, but I wasn’t ready – I had no sense of balance. Hastily, I placed one foot on the ground to prevent myself falling.