Punished: A mother’s cruelty. A daughter’s survival. A secret that couldn’t be told. (21 page)

T
he Raven was a smart, black-and-white-timbered Tudor-style hotel in the heart of Droitwich. I was allocated a small bedroom in the eaves to share with a tall, pretty blonde girl called Caroline, and we soon became firm friends. Apart from the new purchases Dad had given me, my wardrobe was limited to corduroy trousers, frumpy A-line skirts and sweaters hand-knitted by Mum, but Caroline was happy to share her own, fashionable clothes with me. Her jeans were too long, but I borrowed floaty skirts, tight fitting T-shirts and colourful strings of beads, and I felt like a million dollars. There were several boys chasing after Caroline and she used to ask my advice about them: should she date Harry because he was rich, or Dean because he had a car, or William because he was the best-looking? I felt very sophisticated and worldly-wise discussing such issues, although I’m sure my advice wasn’t up to much.

As Father John had warned me, employees at The Raven were subject to a strict curfew but Caroline got special dispensation to borrow a spare key one night to attend a family celebration. She made a copy of the key and
from then on, she and I could go out late so long as we crept in quietly and avoided the creakiest floorboards on the way up to our room.

The work wasn’t fun, of course. Cleaning other people’s toilets and making their beds, picking up their clothes and changing their towels was menial, arduous work, and the smells in some rooms took me back to my nights lying in urine-soaked sheets as a young girl. I was nostalgic for my days in the monastery office when I was so proud of the work I was doing, but at the same time I had a much better social life at The Raven.

Dad was even more disapproving than he’d been when I got my job at the monastery. ‘When are you going to do something that uses your brains? You were always good at maths. Why don’t you do a book-keeping course? Or even accountancy? I could help you to get work experience. Come back home and we’ll see what’s available.’

‘But Mum threw me out!’

‘She didn’t mean it. You’re our daughter and you can come back any time. Think about it, will you? You’re far too young to leave home.’

I glanced at Mum. She raised her eyebrow just a fraction of an inch and I knew she was indicating that no, I wasn’t welcome back home at all. I had no choice but to make the best of my new job at The Raven.

Caroline and I and a few of the other employees used to frequent a coffee bar down the road from the hotel where they had a jukebox with up-to-the-minute pop music and the crowd was young and lively. One afternoon when our shift had finished, we were sitting in there when a couple
of boys came in and sat at the next table. Caroline knew one of them, Charlie, so I found myself talking to his friend, John.

‘Are you a Beatles fan?’ he asked. ‘All the girls seem to be.’

I wasn’t very well up on Beatles hits but I liked what I’d heard. ‘I suppose so. How about you?’

‘
Revolver
is the best album yet. I was reading an article about “Eleanor Rigby” today. Do you know it?’ I nodded. ‘It seems it was nearly called “Daisy Hawkins”. Paul McCartney wrote that line about Daisy Hawkins picking up the rice in the church where the wedding has been and it was only later he decided to make her an old woman and called her Eleanor Rigby.’

I was trying to remember the lyrics of the song but could only think of the chorus about all the lonely people. ‘It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but clever too.’

A catchy new song came on the jukebox, with lyrics about good vibrations.

‘I like that. Who’s that by?’ I asked.

‘The Beach Boys. It’s number one right now,’ he said, and I felt foolish for not knowing.

My pop knowledge didn’t stretch to further conversation, so I asked him where he worked, and immediately kicked myself mentally for coming up with such a boring question.

He didn’t seem to mind. He told me he was doing a mechanical engineering course at a local college, and was currently on a work placement with a car manufacturer. I found out he was eighteen, two years older than me and had just passed his driving test. He liked football and
supported Aston Villa. On paper, it was hard to see what we had in common but when you scratched below the surface there were plenty of hints that he’d had an unhappy childhood. I later found out that he had a violent, aggressive father and a mother who was in love with someone else, a married man whom she kept hoping would leave his wife for her. We didn’t go into much detail about our backgrounds but it was obvious we had both been victims of cruelty and emotional neglect.

‘Will you be here again tomorrow?’ he asked me when it was time for Caroline and me to go back to the hotel.

‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘I’ll maybe see you then.’

‘So?’ Caroline demanded as we walked up the road. ‘Do you like him? He’s very good-looking.’

‘Is he?’ I wasn’t an expert on such matters. He was taller than me, with brown, floppy hair and sad brown eyes. He had dirty fingernails and long, sensitive fingers. I wasn’t attracted to him in any sexual sense but emotionally I felt a bond that made me look forward to seeing him again.

‘Go for it,’ Caroline advised. ‘What have you got to lose?’

I wasn’t quite sure how to ‘go for it’ but I turned up at the coffee bar the following afternoon. John was there and we chatted and before I left he’d invited me to the pictures on Saturday night. We saw Michael Caine as the philandering Alfie and both agreed he was brilliant in the role. Afterwards we went for a walk in the park and had a quick, clumsy kiss on the lips before John dropped me back at the hotel in time for curfew.

‘See you next Saturday?’ he asked, and I wondered how I would be able to wait that long. I felt so excited to
be ‘dating’ someone that I wanted to see him again the next day. As it happened, we met up at the coffee bar two or three times during the week and soon slipped into a routine of going out every Saturday night. On Sundays, my day off, I got the bus back to Shernal Green for lunch and I took the first opportunity to tell Nigel that I had a boyfriend, when we were out for a walk in the fields.

‘Lucky you!’ he said gloomily. ‘There’s no chance of me meeting anyone round here.’

‘Aren’t there any nice secretaries at the office?’ Nigel had recently started work at Dad’s electro-plating company.

‘They’re all a bit dumb and twittery, you know?’ He made a yak-yak motion with his hand, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

‘When did you start smoking?’ I asked, surprised.

‘A while ago. I used to smoke a bit at school, in a lane round the back of the dorm.’

‘Does Mum know?’

He smiled grimly. ‘She does now. She caught me nicking some of her fags last week when I’d run out and she gave me a right earful.’

‘If that had been me, I’d be dead.’

‘Yeah, you probably would have been.’ Nigel laughed and shook his head. ‘I can’t believe it, you know. Little Nessa with a boyfriend. Is he being nice to you? Because if not, just let me know and I’ll come and have a chat with him. Bloke to bloke.’

‘He’s being very nice,’ I smiled. For the first time, I was glimpsing a life beyond my awful home and my mother. Perhaps there were people who would love me and
perhaps I did have a chance to be happy. The main thing was that I had hope, something I’d never had before. It felt good.

It was December 1966 when John and I met. The following March, for my seventeenth birthday, he borrowed his dad’s car, a red Austin A40 to take me out. We went to a pub called the Purdiswell in the countryside between Droitwich and Bromsgrove and although you were supposed to be twenty-one to drink there, he had a couple of pints of lager while I had ginger beer. He hadn’t got me a birthday present or a card but I didn’t mind. I felt very grown-up to be out in a pub with a boyfriend of my own.

After we’d finished our drinks, John suggested we drive out to a secluded spot he knew down a lane near some woods. There was a shy yet lascivious look in his eye and I felt nervous – but at the same time resolved to give him whatever he wanted, for lots of different reasons. I knew I wasn’t beautiful, like Caroline or Mum, so to keep a boyfriend I would have to offer something else, something more than prettier girls would offer. Grandpa Pittam had always told me that letting him have sex with me would make him love me and although I knew that had been a black lie in his case, I still hoped it would work with John. I liked him. He seemed like a kindred spirit and I hoped so much that he was the one for me. If he was, then there was a good chance that he was supposed to be the father of the baby I longed for so much, and that she would arrive sooner rather than later. But if I said no to what he
wanted, maybe he would break up with me and I knew I would be devastated about that.

All these things made me decide to let John go as far as he wanted. He began to kiss me, breathing heavily with excitement. I kissed him back. It was such a different sensation to what I had felt with Grandpa Pittam – that had been a revolting and unpleasant experience. John was softer and sweeter and I liked kissing him.

I would have liked to go on just kissing but after a while he ran his hand up my leg. I made no attempt to stop him. Then he put one hand on my breast and again, I didn’t object. John was surprised and a bit nervous when he realized he wasn’t going to meet any resistance from me.

‘Do you want to … do it?’ he asked.

I nodded.

John stared at me for a moment, then suggested we got into the back seat where there was more room. Now that I’d agreed, he seemed in a hurry to get on with it in case I changed my mind. We scrambled over to the back seat and he began to kiss me again, this time more intensely, while he tried to unfasten my bra with one hand. At last he managed it and he cupped my breast in his hand, pulling and tweaking at it. After a few minutes of this, he moved downwards, pulling up my skirt again and feeling round for the top of my panties. Once he’d hooked them, he pulled them down my legs.

What am I doing? I asked myself. Is this sex? Is this really what everyone goes on about so much?

I knew that Grandpa Pittam had enjoyed what he’d done to me, but I had never understood how any woman could like what it all involved. Now, here I was with John and he wanted to do the same thing to me. Perhaps if
Grandpa had left me alone, I might be enjoying this now, I thought. I might be able to understand what it was all about.

As it was, I stopped liking what was happening to me. I hadn’t minded the kissing, but once I realized that John was fumbling with his trousers and I knew what it was he had there and what was coming next, I turned cold and numb. I distanced myself mentally in the same way I had in the garage when I was bent over the rocking horse. I floated above my body and looked down on the car, where I could see a dark-haired boy struggling to get his semi-erect penis inside a mousy-brown-haired girl. I yelped with pain when he succeeded – it was extremely sore.

John kissed me sweetly, thinking I was a virgin and he’d just ‘plucked my cherry’.

It was over very quickly, in less than a minute, and he handed me my pants to put back on. John seemed as pleased as punch, and I was glad he was so happy. It hadn’t been as bad as it had been when I was younger. Perhaps I could even grow to like it.

‘You’re my special girl now,’ he told me, grinning broadly. ‘You and me are an item.’

He drove me back to the hotel resting his hand on my knee between gear changes, sneaking shy grins at me all the way. ‘See you soon, girlfriend,’ he said as he dropped me off. Upstairs, I got into the bath and soaked for ages, feeling very detached. What was I doing? I didn’t love John. We only had a very basic level of communication and often sat in silence for ages before one of us could think up another topic of conversation. Still, it seemed I was officially his girlfriend now.

I wondered if I was falling in love with him. I certainly liked the feeling of being special to someone. He had chosen me and he liked me enough to have sex with me – and I liked him too. There was a softness, an insecurity about him that I found very touching. Was that what love felt like? I didn’t know but I was looking forward to finding out.

J
ohn and I increased the frequency of our dates to two or three nights a week. We always saw each other on Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons, and between times we’d leave little love notes under a brick near where he lived. We’d go to the cinema, to the Winter Garden disco, for meals or for walks. We’d have a snog at the pictures or in the park but he wasn’t able to borrow the car again so we could have sex, and I was secretly relieved.

I didn’t tell Caroline what I’d done that night; it didn’t seem like any of her business. A month later, though, she guessed when I started throwing up in the toilet every morning, often having to clutch my hands to my mouth and run when I started retching unexpectedly. At her urging, I took a urine sample to a nearby clinic and they confirmed that I was pregnant.

I was filled with joy when I got the news. I had suspected that I was pregnant but now that I knew for sure, I was over the moon with delight. The Clown had been right. I knew that my little girl was growing inside me with every hour that passed.

‘I’m going to have a baby!’ I told Caroline, my face bright.

‘I thought as much. Bloody hell, Vanessa. What will your mum say? You’re going to have to get rid of it,’ she said, with a disapproving tone.

‘I’m not getting rid of it. I’m going to have it.’

‘You seem very happy about it, I must say. Not many unmarried girls look like you when they find out they’re expecting. Have you told John? Is he going to marry you?’

‘Oh. I don’t know.’ Strange as it may sound, I hadn’t considered this possibility for a moment. John and I were getting along perfectly well and I liked being with him but I’d never imagined being married to him. I’d known I might get pregnant if we carried on doing what we had that night in his car – although we hadn’t had the opportunity since – but I’d always thought of the baby, and not of John. Of course, now Caroline raised them, there were practicalities to think about. John was the baby’s father, and I would need financial help to raise it. But I didn’t want to think about that now – all I knew was that I just wanted this baby more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.

‘I’ll tell him on Saturday,’ I said. ‘We’re going to the pictures. I’ll do it after that.’

‘Rather you than me.’ Caroline seemed quite cool. I’d transgressed some code of behaviour and she didn’t approve – or maybe she was just cross that I hadn’t confided in her at the time.

On the Friday that week, I was called to reception with the message that there was an important family phone call for me. We weren’t usually allowed to take incoming calls but the manager made an exception just this once.

I took the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘It’s your mother here,’ the familiar voice said. ‘I’m calling with some bad news, to let you know that Grandma Pittam died yesterday. I don’t suppose you’ll care.’

I thought about the way that woman had scrubbed me in her corrugated tub and offered me to her husband for whatever disgusting purposes he had in mind, and I felt nothing at all. No grief, no triumph. ‘I’ve got news for you as well,’ I said. ‘I’m pregnant.’

There was an audible gasp.

‘Isn’t it strange?’ I continued. ‘One life snuffed out just as a new one is beginning.’

‘Have you told your father yet?’

‘No, I haven’t even told John, my boyfriend. I’m going to keep the baby, though, no matter what anyone says. I’m not giving it up.’

‘Do you realize that this news is going to break your father’s heart?’

‘There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. I’m an adult now.’

‘Oh yes, very mature. I can see that.’ Mum’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. ‘You’ve got it all thought out, have you? Where you’re going to live and who is going to support you? You’re not just another slut who’s got herself knocked up in her teens by being too stupid to know better? Surely not.’

‘I’m going now, Mum. I’ll bring John to meet you some time.’

Our conversation didn’t rattle me at all. I felt calm and contented, positive that everything would work out somehow.

I told John while we were walking in the park after the movie. He recoiled as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach.

‘But you can’t be pregnant! We only did it once!’

‘It seems once is enough.’

‘What are you … I mean, what do you want to do?’

‘I want to keep the baby after it’s born.’

The panic in his expression made him seem very young and I felt sorry for him. I put my arm round him and kissed his cheek. Poor John. He hadn’t banked on this happening that night in the car.

‘Oh my God, Vanessa. How can we?’

‘I’ll manage. I don’t know how yet but I’ll work something out.’ I gave him a tight hug and could feel him shaking.

He pulled away. ‘I’ll drop out of my course and get a job, then we’ll have enough money for a little flat somewhere.’

‘I don’t want you to stop your course. You’ve only got another year to go. Let’s just wait and see.’

I could see that John was terrified, only a child himself, and I did get momentary cold feet. I knew I would love motherhood but how was he going to cope with the responsibility of being a parent? It was too late to worry about that.

We went to see his parents the next day. I didn’t like his father, Fred, on sight, and not just because of the few anecdotes John had told me about his violence. He had the same aura as Mum – an angry, pulsating red colour – and his eyes were those of a malicious bully. John’s mother, Nelly, seemed a needy damaged person. She obviously disapproved of me but I couldn’t blame her: she couldn’t have wished this future on her son – making a girl pregnant out of wedlock when he was only nineteen.

Nelly asked lots of questions about my family, Dad’s electro-plating company and the cottage, and the answers seemed to mollify her somewhat as she realized the Caseys were substantially better off than her own family.

When John and I went back to Shernal Green to meet my parents the following weekend, Mum was on catty form. ‘Where exactly do your parents live, John?’ … ‘Is that a
council
house?’ … ‘When you say you’re studying mechanical engineering, does that mean you’re going to be a
mechanic
one day? Fixing other people’s
cars
?’

John answered her questions politely, as if oblivious to her patronizing tone. I felt proud of him then, and glad to have him as my boyfriend.

Dad hardly said a word throughout. He had greeted me with a kiss and a hug but he looked grey and shocked. This wasn’t the future he’d wished for me either – perhaps now he was wishing he’d let me follow my dream of becoming a nun, I thought grimly. Nevertheless, I felt that he would stand by me and I wished I could have gone for a walk with him, just the two of us, so that I could tell him how happy I was and to put his mind at rest. But I couldn’t have left John to Mum’s tender mercies.

‘Where are you going to live when you can’t work any more, Vanessa? Don’t think you’re coming back here,’ Mum said.

John interjected to explain a plan he had only told me about that morning. ‘My mum is getting a flat in St John’s in Worcester and she’s going to find one that is big enough for the three of us to share. I’ll carry on with my course but take a job in the evenings to make a bit of money and we’ll get by.’

That sounded like a good solution, I thought. I would need someone to help me as I got bigger and I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be able to depend on Mum to help me.

‘What’s happening to your father?’ Mum asked, frowning.

John looked at the ground. ‘Mum’s leaving him.’

‘Well, that’s a good example to set,’ Mum sneered. ‘No wonder she’s got a son with no moral values, who’s happy to get a young girl up the duff.’

‘Shut up! That’s enough!’ I snapped. She was furious – I’d never dared tell her to shut up before and I knew she would be dying to hit me but she obviously couldn’t in present company. I stood up. ‘We should probably be going now. I’ll let you know the address when we move into our flat.’

Dad didn’t offer to drive us back to Droitwich so we went out to the main road and stood waiting for the bus. I’d been hoping to see Nigel but there was no sign of him. At that moment I realized that I was putting my future in the hands of the timid young boy next to me and I shivered slightly, despite the warmth of the spring afternoon.

I’d been so positive and sure of what I was doing. Had I made a terrible mistake?