Daddy's Prisoner (12 page)

‘Is it true?’ Mum said as she broke the silence hanging heavy between us.

‘What?’ I whispered.

I did not want to talk about it. I knew Mum couldn’t bear it if she knew the truth.

‘Has he touched you?’

‘No,’ I cried. ‘No.’

‘Are you sure, Alice?’

‘I’ve told you. It was Michael’s friend.’

‘So where does he live?’

‘Near the shops.’

‘Well, you need to tell the police so that everything can be sorted out.’

‘I have. You heard me today. And I’ll tell them again. I won’t give them a reason to keep the little ones from us.’

Mum didn’t say any more and I was glad. I didn’t want to unlock the secrets we’d held between us for so long. She had enough to deal with now the kids had been taken because she knew what social services could do if they wanted to. I told myself Simon couldn’t know anything for sure. I just had to keep quiet otherwise the police would take me, punish me and lock me up.

The following day, the male police officer came to speak to us again and once more we insisted everything was all right – Simon was just making all this up to spite Dad. Later that afternoon, we were allowed to visit the kids at a social services centre for an hour. I felt sick as I walked into the room wondering what they knew about all this.

Mum burst into tears as Charlie and Kate ran up to us, full of questions and wanting hugs. I looked at Laura standing quietly. The look in her eyes cut through me. She was angry and I was sure she was blaming me for everything.

‘Why can’t we come home, Mum?’ Kate pleaded as the meeting came to an end.

‘You will soon enough, love,’ she replied. ‘Just as soon as this is all cleared up.’

Shame rose in me as I looked at all their faces – so lost and lonely. This was all my fault: if I hadn’t gone out with Simon, or got a stitch and let him rub my tummy, then Dad would never have attacked him and we’d still be together at home. The children started crying as we got up to leave and asked when they’d be back home. I knew they felt like I did when I was little – scared of Dad but loving Mum. It’s amazing how much children love what they know, however bad it is, and they wanted to come home to Mum and me.

‘Why won’t they let them come back to me?’ she sobbed when we got home. ‘Do you think we could convince them to, Alice?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I said, feeling the guilt scratching at the back of my throat.

‘But we’ve got to!’ she cried. ‘We have to get them back.’

Mum sat silently for hours staring into space and I didn’t disturb her as I wondered what was going to happen to us all. It felt as if the world was crowding in on us and, after all the years apart from it, I wanted to be shut away again. I felt so afraid now someone was trying to get into my prison because getting a glimpse of freedom after so long in a cage was scarier than I’d ever imagined. I’d always thought that if someone from outside realised what was happening it would mean freedom and happiness, not this – the kids locked up in social services and Mum at home breaking her heart. I wanted to shut the box back up again and go back to how things had been. At least then I’d understood my world and strangers hadn’t been trying to tear it apart. Surely this would all be cleared up soon if we did as Dad told us.

As I sat thinking, I felt the baby move inside me. No one must ever know about it. I must keep silent and then everything would be all right.

‘They’re not going to give them back, you know,’ Mum said eventually as we sat in the dark while the TV burbled softly in the corner.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The kids. They won’t let them come home now all this has been stirred up.’

Mum started to cry as I took her hand.

‘Don’t say that,’ I exclaimed. ‘They’ll be home with us soon enough.’

She looked at me through her tears.

‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ she said softly. ‘At least they won’t be hurt any more.’

We looked at each other. It was the first time she’d ever said anything like that and one word from Mum, one gesture to show she wanted to get out of this house, and I’d tell my secrets. I just needed her to show me that she understood and would help me run far away from here if I told my story. Then we could get the kids back and live alone with them. It would be just as I’d dreamed – The Idiot would never find us.

‘Why don’t we just tell?’ I whispered. ‘Why don’t we just talk to the police?’

Mum stared into the darkness outside the windows.

‘You know why, Alice,’ she replied. ‘Because he’d come after us.’

The police returned the next day to ask if I would go with them to look at photographs of local men. They wanted to see if I could identify the father of the baby and the tall officer was waiting for me when I arrived at the station. I wanted to get home as soon as I could because we’d been told Dad was going to be released that day without charge because the police had finished their questioning so they had to let him go while they carried on investigating. I didn’t want Mum to face The Idiot without me – he was sure to be asking questions, ready to fly off into a rage if she said a wrong word.

‘How are you feeling, Alice?’ the detective asked as I sat down. ‘How’s the baby?’

I looked away. Now more than ever, I didn’t want to talk about what was inside me.

‘We’ve got some news,’ he continued. ‘We want you to leave home for a little while like your brothers and sisters.’

‘What do you mean? I can’t leave Mum.’

‘A legal order has been issued to make you a ward of court. That means you won’t be able to go back to your parents for now and you’ll be going into a children’s home while we carry on looking at this.’

‘You can’t arrest me,’ I said, feeling panic rising. ‘I have to look after Mum. She’s not well. She needs me.’

‘We want to keep you safe but we also want to know the truth so for now this is best.’

‘But I’ve answered all your questions,’ I cried. ‘Simon’s lying. He’s making it up. Dad’s never hurt us. The baby isn’t his. Just let me go home. Let me get back to Mum. Why won’t you listen to me?’

‘It’s only for a couple of weeks, Alice,’ the detective said. ‘You’re nearly eighteen and when your birthday comes you’ll be an adult and able to do whatever you like.’

But that was weeks away and I didn’t believe him. The police were going to take me away for ever and lock me up. The man was going to question me until I broke down and told him the truth. Then he’d make sure I was punished.

‘We can’t keep you after you turn eighteen,’ the detective continued. ‘You’ll be free then to do as you wish and social services won’t have any authority to keep you in foster care. But for now we are going to look after you.’

The officer got up and opened the door. They were coming to get me. I started kicking and screaming. I had to get home. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t leave Mum all alone with him.

‘You can’t do this. Please, please, don’t do this. Let me go.’

Dad would think I’d said something and take it out on Mum while I wasn’t there. He’d kill her just as he’d promised to. I had to get away from here. I’d seen her cuts and bruises so many times over the years. Now he’d do something so much worse. I must get back to Mum.

But hands held on to me and I lashed out as I was pulled, screaming and crying, out of the station into a police car.

‘You’re going to hurt yourself,’ I heard a voice say. ‘You’ll see your brothers and sisters soon. Stop struggling. What about the baby? You don’t want to get this upset.’

But I didn’t want to listen. These people were lying. They weren’t going to keep me safe. No one had ever protected me before so why would they start now? I had to get home because without me, Mum would be at Dad’s mercy.

I was taken to the same children’s home as Laura, Kate and Charlie but even though I was glad to be with them, I couldn’t stop thinking of Mum. I pictured the knives hidden under the bed, the crossbow on the top of the cabinet and the throwing stars. Even though I was away from The Idiot for the first time in my life, his reign of terror was as strong as ever. Being in the outside world terrified me because I hadn’t got to know it like other girls of my own age. When they were learning to become independent, I’d been shut up caring for my brothers and sisters; when other girls had started going out alone, I wasn’t even allowed to walk to the shops by myself because I was not trusted. I didn’t understand the real world and felt so afraid now I’d been pushed into it. At least at home, Dad had kept his eye on me and known I hadn’t done anything wrong. Now I wasn’t there, I knew his imagination would run wild. Without me to watch over, his mind would be filled with fantasies about all the different ways in which I was betraying him and he would make sure he punished me for them all.

The home was noisy, full of screaming kids and social workers who kept trying to ask questions as they spoke to each of us on our own over the next few days. Again and again, they asked me about our life at home: the porn videos, the weapons, the days without food, the filthy house, the knives and slaps.

‘We understand you’re often alone in the house with your father.’

‘Is there anything you want to tell us about your baby, Alice?’

‘Is it true your father often watches pornography in front of you?’

‘Does he use knives to threaten you with?’

Over and over, they asked about my pregnancy until I wanted to scream. I didn’t want it mentioned and I would never talk about the thing inside me. That’s all it was – not a baby – but they wouldn’t see and it made me feel sick when they kept talking about it. The tall detective also came back, each time trying to convince me that he could keep me safe – Dad would be locked up if only I made a statement about what had happened to us. The police needed evidence to charge him and the detective told me he wanted to take some blood from me and Dad. When the baby arrived they’d take blood from it too. But I refused to help him. He didn’t know what Dad was like. How could he? How could anyone? Mum was at home alone with him and if I did anything to get The Idiot into trouble then he’d told me what he’d do.

‘It was a friend of my brother,’ I kept repeating. ‘My father has never touched me.’

Most of the time the officer was patient; there was kindness in his eyes as he tried to persuade my secrets out into the open. But sometimes I could see frustration snap into his face when I kept denying what he knew.

‘Alice, please,’ he’d say with a sigh. ‘Just talk to me. We know what’s been happening.’

‘No, you don’t. Simon’s just making this up. Please, please let us go home. Our mum needs us. You don’t understand.’

How could I even begin to start unravelling all that had happened with people I’d known for just a few days or weeks? I’d been taught to fear anyone and anything so that’s how I felt – hardly daring to speak let alone start confiding in anyone. I knew it wouldn’t just be Dad who’d get into trouble but me as well. I didn’t want to think about what the police would do to me.

The kids seemed confused by what was happening but not too scared. Laura, though, seemed angry from the moment I arrived at the children’s home and tried reassuring her that we’d be home soon. She was twelve and understood far more about what was going on than the little ones.

‘What do you know?’ she screamed as we fought a few days after I arrived at the home. ‘They’re going to keep us here and I just want to be with Mum.’

‘Me too. But they won’t keep us for ever.’

‘Of course they will. They can do what they like.’

‘No they can’t. We’ll be home soon. We just need to stick together and they’ll let us go.’

Laura’s eyes burned as I spoke.

‘Shut up, you stupid cow,’ she screamed. ‘What do you know? This is all your fault.’

‘What do you mean? How’s it my fault? I wasn’t the one who ran away and went to the police. It was Simon.’

‘I don’t mean that, do I?’

‘So what are you talking about?’

‘It’s all your fault for getting pregnant.’

Guilt surged up inside me. What did she mean? Did she know too? Did everyone know my secret?

‘Well, it wasn’t by choice, was it?’ I screamed without thinking.

The words hung in the air between us. They had rushed out of me – the first time I’d even hinted about what had happened. I stared at Laura, feeling sick, trying to push down the voice which wanted to flood out, the scream inside my head. She turned and walked away. I wanted to run after her but couldn’t. I knew she was right. It was my fault.

We didn’t speak after that and a couple of days later I was moved to a foster carer’s home. I was sad to leave the kids behind but relieved as well that I wouldn’t have to look at their faces. I wanted my feelings of guilt gone, buried deep – just as I’d learned to do during all the years when Dad had hurt me. I couldn’t stop thinking of how Mum was. I just wanted some news but no one would answer my questions. The foster carer was a very kind lady who made me drink a pint of milk a day because I was hardly eating but her kindness did not sink in. I hated it when she talked about the baby. She didn’t understand that I couldn’t care less what happened to it. I felt disgusted if it moved inside me and looked away when I caught sight of myself in a mirror. If it wasn’t for this baby then none of this would be happening. I’d still be at home and Mum would have her kids with her at least. Now she had nothing.