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When I was a little girl I lived in a little village. Everyone knew everyone and there was a real sense of community. Children, even toddlers, played unsupervised in their front gardens and on the streets. My mum was struggling to bring up three children. I had never known love from either of my parents though I know now that this was not their fault entirely. My dad didn't really talk to me because we rarely saw eachother, (as he worked nights 6 days a week). The only time we spent with eachother was when my dad took leave for holidays. It was evident that he didn't really know how to deal with us so he would take us walking. Through my dad I discovered a love of nature and the great outdoors. We would walk for miles without saying a word to eachother but it was a comfortable silence. I don't think either of us knew what to say to the other but hand in hand I felt safe and loved. My dad was brought up by parents who didn't "do" shows of affection and I think in some way he found it awkward to hug us or even say that he loved us. I didn't know love in the conventional sense of the word. It was presumed by my parents that we would know we were loved without them saying or showing it to us. Needless to say, about 99% of the time I felt unloved but it taught me that little shows of affection are important. I didn't really mind that they didn't say or show love because I didn't really love them either. I needed them for the materialistic things. For the roof over my head, the food in my belly and the clothes on my back... But that was pretty much all I felt. I craved love so I could give love. But without being shown love, I found it difficult to understand the concept behind it.

One day my sister and I went to the park near our house. I was about five years old and my sister was about seven. As we walked into the park there was a pavement that ran from the entrance up to the play area. I loved nothing more than following the path all the way to the park, even though it was much quicker to cut across the field. The reason I loved it was because of the "dark place." This was a stretch of path sparcely lined by trees. You could see inbetween the trees and the light came through, casting shadows along the pavement. It was cool and shaded but to a small child it felt quite dark. I had a vivid imagination and I always felt that if there were such things as fairies and elves, then they would surely be hiding amidst the trees. Another thing I loved about the dark place was that the trees seemed to be alive with the sound of birdsong all year round.

When me and my sister began walking to the park from out house I had a feeling that I was being watched. When we drew near to the gate that marked the entrance to the park I stopped and looked around. A man was following behind us but when he saw that we had stopped he carried on walking up the road away from the park. Thinking nothing of it we started walking up the path towards the dark place. My sister wanted to cut across the field but I wanted to follow the path. As we stood there arguing the man I'd seen earlier approached us. He asked us if we liked puppies and we said yes. He asked us if we wanted to see his puppies, adding that they were in his car. I can not remember what he looks like today. All I can remember was that I was fascinated by his teeth that seemed so old for a man in his late 20's or early 30's. I couldn't stop staring at his smile, it seemed wrong somehow, it was not a natural smile and it made me feel cold and uncomfortable. My sister wanted to see the puppies but I remembered something that I had been taught in school and I spoke it aloud... "Charlie (the cat) says you must never talk to strangers." Then my sister suddenly realised that he could be dangerous so we started to walk off. As we walked on the man followed us. He spoke so gently and with such persuasion but we just kept shouting "no." The path dipped down and left as we got to the dark place, and as it did so the strange man disappeared from view. Holding hands we fled along the path to the safety of the park. We'd got aabout half way through the dark place when we turned to look back. Running towards us and offering us sweets and money as well as the puppies, was the strange man. My sister got scared and she ran through the trees without telling me. Not knowing what to do, I froze to the spot. My sister ran halfway across the field shouting for me to run to the park where there were other people. She seemed to be as rooted to the spot as I was and she didn't know what to do either. The man ran around the outside of the trees, blocking the way between me and my sister. Then he began the terrorising. Every way I ran to escape him he would run around the other side of the trees, blocking my way. I felt like a rabbit in a rabbit run, trapped in what was once my treasure, magical dark place. The dark place suddenly seemed a frightning place to be and my heart pounded in my chest so fast and hard that I expected it to burst free from my body. Whilst he ran around he peered around the trees saying saying things like "peek a boo" and "aww what's the matter, don't you want some sweeties?" Everywhere I turned his laughter and his evil smile and yellow teeth were there and I had nowhere to go to. Suddenly there came shouting from many voices. The other children at the park had been alerted to what was going on and they were making their way towards me. It felt like a rescue party was arriving and I was so relieved. The man saw the group of children, then he turned on his heels and ran away. I rushed out to my sister and we hugged and went back to the park to play for a while before we went back home and told my mum. We weren't allowed to go out to the park unless we were in a group afterwards and we spent most of our time in the garden at the front of the house.

In our front garden there was a fruit tree, (I think it was a cherry tree). It was small but to us it seemed very tall. This tree appeared to be perfectly formed for climbing and we would sit in the middle, staring out at the street. Shortly after the encounter with the strange man in the park, he appeared and stood outside the house. All that seperated us was a short wall and the fact that we were up in the tree. He leaned over the wall and started to talk to us, telling us that he was our friend and didn't mean to have scared us. We listened to what he was saying but I was still wary of him. Slowly he put his hand into his pocket, bringing out a paper bag full of hard boiled sweets. "Do you want one?" he asked. I said no but my sister said yes. He tried to pass them to us but feigned that he could not reach. We refused to climb down from the tree so he looked about and leapt over the wall. He stood underneath the tree, reaching out with his sweets, trying to coax us down. My sister climbed down a little and was just about to take a sweet from the bag when the front door flew open. Our dog was barking and throwing himself at the front door. I think he could sense evil or something as he had never been agressive to anyone before, (and I used to lie on him and pull his ears). My mum had opened the door a crack to peek around to see what the barking was about when my dog charged through, forcing the door back hard on it's hinges. The smiling man looked startled and he tried to get back over the other side of the wall to safety, but my dog was too quick. My dog sunk his teeth into the strange man's leg and he started shaking him furiously. The man managed to pull his leg free and fell down on the other side of the wall with my dog barking at him furiously. The man stood up and started shouting at my mum about us having a dangerous dog. The police arrived swiftly to calm the situation and they took my dog away. My mum told me that they were taking our dog to be trained up and used as a guard dog but I later found out that our faithful pooch was put to sleep for being a danger to the public. The police didn't seem to care about the story behind it. It was the word of small children versus the "victim of a crime" and the adult won. There was some good news from all of this though... That man never came back again and people were more vigilant about strangers. There was a feeling of safety in the village again and I loved living there.

Infants school flew by like dust in the wind and was pretty uneventful. One memory I have is of me playing a trick on my brother to get him into trouble. My brother was always (and still is) my mum's golden boy. He could do no wrong and he was treated differently than my sister and I. I was jealous of my brother for him getting on well with my mum, so when he stripped all of his clothes off and got into bed with a girl called Michelle who came over to play, it was too good an opportunity to miss and I hid their clothes on the top of the cupboard. When it was time for Michelle to go home her mum was livid to discover that her daughter was naked. I refused to tell them where the clothes were and they looked all around the bedroom for them. When they found them my mum beat me. I thought that my brother would get into trouble for getting naked with a girl but he didn't. I was grounded for the week, sent to bed with no food and hit hard, whilst my brother got cookies and was allowed to sleep in my mum's bed.

Speaking of cookies, there was another time when me and my sister were so hungry that we sneaked downstairs whilst my mum was asleep. We crept into the kitchen and my sister stood on my shoulders. She reached into the top of a kitchen cupboard, took down the cookie jar and we ate them all bar one. Stupidly we believed that if we left one biscuit then nobody would notice but the next morning my mum noticed alright. She called us down and lined us up, asking us who ate the cookies. None of us admitted it but my mum knew. She grabbed my sister by her collar and me by my hair and pulled us into the living room where she hit us repeatedly and sent us to our rooms for the rest of the day with no food. She gave my brother the remaining biscuit and strangely I was more annoyed about him having the last biscuit than the beating I'd received. I suppose I was used to it to a certain degree. My mum used my sister and I as stress relievers and she would find any excuse she could to beat us to get rid of her anger. Of course she was angry with herself and her life but she would blame us for it. Comments like "I wish I'd never had you" and "you're so thick" or "if I had never had you kids then I wouldn't be in this situation" just tore my self esteem to bits. Even as a very young child I remember feeling that my mum was depressed solely because of me, it was my fault. I too felt depression as well as guilt and I felt bad for bringing such sadness into my mum's life. I remember on one occasion my mum went to hospital to have an operation to her toes straightened. She had crutches but she could not walk for some time afterwards due to pain, so when she started being nasty to me I bravely answered her back and walked off. She took a slipper and told me to come to her for a beating but I said no and wouldn't go near enough to her for her to reach me. She said she would get me for it but I wasn't very concerned because she couldn't get to me and I thought that by the time she could walk again she would have forgotten about it. Later that evening my mum called me down and asked me to get her a drink. As I walked past her I made sure that she couldn't grab me but my mum had another plan. I didn't notice the crutch in her hand and just as I had got past her she hit me so hard on my rear that I fell over and she continued hitting me over and over on my bum with the crutches, leaving deep purple bruises. Before bed she hobbled to the bathroom and ran a hot bath which made my bruises sting furiously. I was whimpering and trying to lower myself in slowly but it hurt so much I didn't want to sit down. My mum pushed me down at both shoulders and forced me into the water where I continued to whimper. I got a sharp slap to the face and told to shut it or I would get another caning so I just sat there quietly crying as she roughly washed my hair.

My mum suffered abuse from my nan, beatings, taunts, etc. My nan forced my mum into leaving school early to care for the family and my mum was a skivy to her 8 brothers and 1 sister. My nan was depressed but also suffered from mental health issues and life was tough for my mum. My nan tried to arrange a marriage for my mum and a suitor old enough to be her father. She thought it was in their best interests to get married so that he could bring money into the house. The man was very wealthy and that came above my mum's feelings. This man took my mum out for "courting" walks and one day he raped her. My mum went back to my nan crying and told her what had happened. My nan blamed my mum saying she was a slut and a liar and she beat her. My nan tried to get my mum to continue the relationship with the wealthy man but my mum refused. Shortly afterwards she met my dad and though she loved him, there was a great deal of dependency. My mum saw my dad as shining white knight come to save her from the wicked mother who used and abused her. My mum was desperate to get out of the situation she was in and she rushed into a marriage to escape. Once my mum realised that marriage was pretty much what she was doing at her mum's home, (only with less people to care for and no beatings), she sank into depression. I suppose she had great expectations for bigger and better things but she ended up in a poor family in a loveless marriage with a man who had no time or energy to spend any time with her. In her mind if there were no children then they'd have more money and my dad wouldn't have to work night shifts to get more money to keep us all. My mum also had many health problems which made a bad situation worse. I believe that my mum was treating us how she was taught to by her mum. My dad came from a very strict upbringing too which confirmed, (in my mum's mind), that she was rearing us in the right way. My nan too was abused as was my great-grandma. My mum had the opportunity to change the link but she did not break the cycle.

When I started junior school I became the target for a bully named "Tom." He would beat me every day and the teachers and parents didn't care. Back then bullying was seen to be character building and you were pretty much left to get on with it. My mum was so depressed that she had no interest at all and only told me to ignore him. One day I pushed him down the steps which led to an emergency exit on the outside of the school buiding. Tom got hurt and nothing happened. I think he was too embarrassed to tell anyone about it but the bullying calmed right down afterwards. My parents sent me to recorder lessons. I tried so hard but I couldn't get to grips with it. There were about 40 children sitting in a wooden building. It was cold and noisy and there were only three teachers to teach us. We had our books that we had to follow and other children seemed to get it. My best friend Melanie was very good and her parents helped her at home. I was never taught what to do, I was just left to get on with it without knowing what I was meant to be getting on with. I couldn't practice at home as it annoyed my parents and I quickly got left behind. In the end I gave up recorder lessons but I was scared of my parents so I didn't tell them I had quit. I took my recorder home and buried it at the bottom of the garden. I made into something of a funeral, I suppose it was my way of bringing closure. My mum found it and she hit the roof! He dragged me to the bottom of the garden and pointed to the recorder. My buried secret was unearthed and I was dragged by one arm into the house where my mum hit me over and over again. I tried to explain but she was interested and I had many punishments for the money she had wasted on buying the recorder and paying for the lessons.

It was about this time when I was around 8 years of age that I began to notice boys... Well one boy in particular. His name was Melvin and he was very tall for his age and well built. He was well spoken, confident, polite and well liked by everyone. He was never interested in bullying and nobody bullied him either. Just when I was starting to get to know him and we started to hang out together in the playground, I was sent to another school. I felt very sad and the new school was incredibly strict. Boys and girls were not to have any kind of physical contact. We had to walk at least a step behind the person in front us when we walked along the corridor. We had to walk on the left hand side at all times. Talking was not permitted unless we were spoken to directly and had to answer an adult. I lost a lot of my interaction skills I was just beginning to learn at my old school. Nobody had any "friends" as such as there was little opportunity to talk to other children. Boys and girls sat on different sides of the classroom. We all had are own wooden desk which was just far enough away from the next desk as to make it impossible to touch another student. When questions were asked and we got them wrong because we hadn't been listening, we were made to sit in "the corner" with our backs facing the class. They believed that if you had nothing to look at then you'd have no choice but to listen, but it was not the case with me. I would see pictures and patterns in the brickwork and ceiling. Three dots could be the eyes and nose of a cartoon character and a wiggly line was a snake. Being put in the corner was no real punishment for me at all! If you were rude to a teacher you were sent to the office for "bad medicine." Children were sent off to the headmasters office and they'd come back whimpering with their noses and eyes running. You weren't allowed to cry so the teachers, (Catholic nuns), would slam thing on the desk and shout at you to stop. It was scare you into stopping even if you wanted to carry on crying. I only had bad medicine once. I was talking in class and I lied about it. This was back chatting and a sin so I was sent to the headmaster's office. There the headmaster took out a big spoon and filled it with cod liver oil. I was so frightened about what it was that they had a few nuns holding me down and squeezing my nose until my mouth opened to catch my breath. I took a breath and the oil as forced into my mouth. One nun forced my jaws shut and held my nose tight until I swallowed. They released me and suddenly the taste kicked in with vengence. I was wretching and heaving so they gave me water to drink and waited until I had settled down before taking me back to class. From then on I could not bear the smell or taste of fish and as I write this now I realise that my aversion to seafood might stem from this encounter. From that day on I lived my life like a robot. I did what I was told, I sat up with my back straight and my hands on the table in class without saying a word to another student. I worked hard and I excelled. From an educational point of view it was great but socially I became awkward and shy. I overcompensated by putting on a front that I was confident but inside I was a wreck. One day a boy called Daryl ran past me and said simply "meet me in the toilets." I had no idea why he wanted to meet me in the toilets but I was curious so I went to meet him. He wanted to see what a girl looked like naked and I had never seen a naked boy before so we agreed to show eachother our "private parts." There was absolutely no sexual interest at all. We were just curious. Daryl named our game "dinkle in the mary" though there was no sexual contact. One day I told my sister and she asked my mum what dinkle in the mary was and grassed me up. My mum hit the roof and said I could get aids. I had no idea what aids was and as nothing had happened I could not understand what the big deal was. My parents were furious and it put a lot of strain on our already poor relationship. In summer of 1988 my family moved to another town and my robotic, insecure, fearful, over-compensating ways moved with me.