Daddy's Prisoner (31 page)

It wasn’t long after I found out I was pregnant that Michael told me Mum had been taken into hospital again. He didn’t know where The Idiot was but had heard she was ill from a relative. I knew the police had been making enquiries trying to find Dad but so far they hadn’t been able to because while the case might have felt like the most important thing in the world to me, it was just one of many for them. There was only so much time and money they could put into trying to find my father.

It was 2006 and Mum hadn’t seen the girls for nearly three years so I collected them from school and took them up to the hospital. But as I walked into the entrance hall, the lift doors opened and I saw a glimpse of a familiar figure. I prayed The Idiot wouldn’t see us as I pulled the girls into the hospital café and sat down at a table with my back to the windows. Cowering behind a wall, I knew I needed to tell the police as soon as I could that he was still in this city. But I couldn’t face him. I wasn’t strong enough. I just wanted to see Mum.

‘What’s wrong?’ Emma asked as I sat still, holding my breath.

‘Nothing, darling,’ I said.

Pulling the girls to me, I cuddled them until I knew The Idiot must have left before going to find Mum. She was lying still in bed as we walked into the ward – an oxygen mask on her face and dark shadows under her eyes. She couldn’t take her eyes off us as I walked towards her bed with Emma and Lily. I gently pushed them in front of me so she could see them better as the three of us stood by the bed.

‘Hello, Mum,’ I said softly.

It was so long since I’d last seen her and I wanted to cry as I looked at her. I bent down to hug her and she put her arm around me. I could see her trying to smile underneath the mask as I stood back up.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ I said.

As the girls turned away to start chattering to the person in the next bed, I leaned in to speak to Mum.

‘Why don’t you move in with me when you’re discharged from here? Please, Mum. I can make you comfortable. Look after you. Make sure you get the right medication and see the nurses.’

Her eyes flickered as I spoke. She was drowsy and I could see it was hard for her to stay awake. Her hand tightened on mine as she opened her eyes a little more.

‘The only way I’m going to get away from him is if I die,’ she whispered.

‘But it should be him who dies!’ I cried. ‘Not you.’

Mum’s eyes shut again and her hand slackened on mine.

‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ I said softly as I bent to kiss her forehead.

It felt as if my heart was breaking as I left her that day. I had to find a way to convince her to come and stay with us. I couldn’t let The Idiot intimidate me. I’d tell the police I had seen him and they’d arrest him. If there was one thing I could give to Mum it was a bit of dignity and comfort in her last days. I rang Patrick and woke up the next morning determined to somehow persuade Mum to join me. I knew I’d find a way. I had to. But when I got back up to the hospital, I walked towards her bed to find it empty.

‘Where is she?’ I asked a nurse as I stared at it.

‘Didn’t you know?’ she replied. ‘Your mother was discharged this morning. She’s left.’

‘But wasn’t she was supposed to be here for another few days?’

‘She wanted to go home and the doctor said she was well enough.’

I couldn’t believe she’d had the strength to walk out of the hospital but knew who’d ordered her to – The Idiot. Once more they’d disappeared and it would be months before I got any news of Mum. I thought of her all the time as I wondered where and how she was. The Idiot did not care what he did to her and I worried that soon whatever strength she had left would fail. I prayed that the police would catch up with him in time to help her.

But on Christmas Day 2006, I was holding my one-month-old son Tom as I got the girls ready to go to Steven’s for the day and the phone rang. I picked it up to hear Michael’s voice on the other end. It was so quiet.

‘Alice?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve got some bad news.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘Mum is dead.’

I felt the ground fall away beneath me as I staggered. Nick, who was there with me, took Tom from me as I dropped the phone. I couldn’t believe it. Mum had gone? Now I’d never get her away from the Idiot, she’d never be free.

‘He says there’s no way any of us are going to Mum’s funeral,’ Michael told me a few days later.

We still didn’t know where The Idiot was but we were getting messages via his relatives. Michael had been told that even though he, Simon and I all wanted to attend the funeral, we weren’t going to be allowed to. We were dead to our mother. We weren’t her children.

‘But he’s got to let us say goodbye!’ I cried. ‘Even he can’t stop us doing that.’

For the next couple of days, messages went back and forth between Michael and Dad’s relatives until we were finally told that Dad had agreed to let us attend the funeral on one condition – I had to promise not to cause any trouble.

‘They want your word that you won’t get him arrested at the funeral,’ Michael told me.

I should have known that Dad’s relatives would side with him and believe the lies he told. He was one of their own and they’d protect him.

‘Of course, I won’t,’ I told my brother. ‘I wouldn’t do anything to ruin Mum’s funeral.’

But the phone calls were enough to help me work out that Dad was staying with a relative. That’s where he was hiding out, hoping that somehow the police would forget everything if he stayed out of sight for long enough. It was the first time I’d known where he was since he disappeared and I wondered for a moment if I really had the courage to get him arrested before Mum’s funeral. It would be the ultimate act of revenge that he would never forget but I knew I had to do it for her sake and mine. I’d assured everyone that I wouldn’t make trouble on the day but hadn’t made a promise about any other time.

‘I know where he is,’ I said when I phoned Patrick.

I gave him the address and sat back to wait. The next day Patrick phoned me. Dad had been arrested and was being held in custody. He’d be held until he attended court and then released again but this time the police would keep close tabs on him to make sure he couldn’t run. He’d have to face justice now. It was too late for Mum but at last he knew that I would not stop until I saw him in court. However scared I felt, I was determined to see this through.

Of course The Idiot’s family went wild and we were immediately told that none of us could go to the funeral. I was a lying slag, a troublemaker and a fantasist. Why was I making this up when Dad had just lost his wife? I felt almost sorry that they still believed his lies but also disgusted they could even consider I’d make anything up like that. Why would I go to the police and go through all I had – the statement, the waiting, the tests and fear – for nothing?

Michael was told there’d be a viewing of Mum’s body the day before her funeral which he and Simon could attend if they wanted to. But he was told by my Dad’s relatives that there was no way I could show my face. I was not going to be allowed to take one step over the threshold of where Mum’s body lay. There was no way I could say goodbye after what I’d done.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Michael said. ‘You’re coming with me now he’s out of the way. You’ve more right to be there than any of them.’

I left the girls and Tom with Nick and drove up to the funeral parlour. I was shaking as I walked in with Michael. I felt numb inside. I couldn’t believe Mum had gone, that this was the last time I’d ever see her. If only I’d gone to the police sooner maybe I’d have been able to get her away.

As we walked in Dad’s relatives were crowded in the room where Mum’s body was laid out. I tensed up as I waited for their abuse but they just looked at me with hate in their eyes before turning to leave.

Now it was just Michael, Simon and me – the remains of our family, the boys I’d sat with on a bed when we were children and imagined a future full of fun and feasts when we finally escaped our father. How differently our lives had turned out. In one way or another all of us had never really escaped him. My brothers stood either side of me as we looked down at Mum. She was so thin and pale, not as I remembered her when we were young: chubby and bright-eyed, full of laughter as she’d twirled us around the living room to music. The room was silent as I took her hand and kissed her cold fingers.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get you away,’ I whispered.

But as I looked at Mum’s face I realised something: she might not have escaped Dad in life but now at last she was free. He was finally going to be made to face what he’d done and Mum’s pain was over for ever. She was at peace now and soon I would be too. I was going to get justice. My torturer was going to pay. He would finally know what it felt like to be locked up in a prison.

I didn’t have to face the ordeal of giving evidence at a trial because my father pleaded guilty to incest and was sentenced to three years in jail. I felt disappointed that he’d serve such a short time but that was the sentence the judge gave him and I had to accept it. The incest charge related to Caitlin’s conception and was just the tip of the iceberg of what The Idiot had done to me. But because everything had happened so long ago, it would have been a case of my word against his and the authorities decided to go with the one crime they could prove. The judge in the case also had to take into account the fact that Dad had pleaded guilty, which meant he got a shorter sentence.

It was hard to understand but I also knew that three years would be a long time in jail for a sex offender. Finally it was over and as he sat in his prison cell, my father would know I was the one who’d gone to the police and turned him in. I’d shown him that I wasn’t scared of him any more and I knew it was time for my life to finally begin again. Getting justice isn’t simply about courts and prison sentences; it is also about taking back some of the power that has been stripped away from you and showing your abuser that you are finally ready to stand up to them and break the silence. That is what I had done at last: I had reported my father to the police and when he had gone on the run, I’d helped them track him down. I had shown him that I would not be afraid any more and that was just as important to me as any court case.

In the months that followed, I concentrated on bringing up Emma and Lily, watching Tom grow and being a mother. Steven still saw the girls, Nick was very involved with Tom and I was proud that somehow we’d all found a way to make things work. I often wondered, though, what I would tell my children in the future because I was as sure as ever that my ordeal was unique and I was scared of them ever knowing about what had happened to me. But I realised I was not alone when the crimes of Josef Fritzl made worldwide news in April 2008.

Until then, I’d had no idea other women had gone through similar experiences to mine. But after the discovery of Fritzl’s daughter Elisabeth and her children in an Austrian cellar, several cases appeared in the newspapers about other women who’d been forced to have their father’s children. Each one was truly terrible but they made me realise I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only daughter to be trapped for years in an abusive situation or the only one who took a long time to finally confess to what had happened and ask for help. At least I had been able to escape because my father’s prison was more psychological than physical. Josef Fritzl had locked his daughter in a basement and my heart went out to her unimaginable suffering – and that of her children.

It was then that I decided to tell my story because I knew I would be content if just one woman like me found comfort in it and maybe the courage to speak out. The worst thing about abuse is the secrecy and isolation it feeds on. I always believed I had done something truly awful to deserve what happened to me – that sense of self-hatred was ground into me and it was only when I finally went to the police that I began to move past it. It’s very hard: life isn’t neat and my past will always be part of me. But I only have to look at my children to know that I have achieved something. Emma and Lily are lively, affectionate and bright little girls while Tom is an energetic toddler. When I look at them, I know I have done one good thing in my life. My father did everything he could to destroy me and make me his prisoner for ever. But I found my courage, fought back and now I have three beautiful children and a life with them. It is more than I ever hoped for. It is the best proof possible that he will not control me in the future as he once did in the past. I am finally free.