Riches to Rags

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Chapter 2 From Riches to Rags

Linda seemed to wear a different set of clean clothes everyday, often light and pastel shades. She had blond shoulder length bobbed hair that seemed to shine like her skin. She was tall and very slender. She moved with a confidence and ease that contrasted sharply with my awkward and clumsy gait. I was fascinated with her long glossy finger nails that were never dirty. In time I learnt to sit on her lap and would play with her smooth nails and lift her hand to my face to feel her soft hand against my cheek, this was to become our special time together and she would giggle and gently kiss the top of my head, her arms wrapped around my submissive body. I would immerse myself in this embrace, saturated with the delicious and intoxicating scent of her perfume. I eventually felt safe and cared for. My frozen heart was beginning to thaw and I was learning to receive and give real affection. In the two years I lived with John and Linda I do not recall her seriously shouting at me. She never hit. Her disappointed looks and carefully crafted reasoning words penetrated my defences, disarmed me, I wanted to please her, I wanted her to love me. I believe I nearly loved her. Linda’s violent arguments with John concerning the way he treated me, was greater proof that she was my ally and friend. I would sit at the top of the stairs listening to her trying to pacify John and present reasons for my behaviour. She would sometimes suffer for this with a slap. I learnt very quickly that John didn’t enjoy being questioned or wrong, especially when he had been drinking his Brandy.

John, like Linda spoke in a similar fashion to people who read the news on the TV. It was nothing resembling the broad Sheffield accent that I was so familiar with. However, his voice was deep had a much harder resonance. Even Pauline my Social Worker seemed to defer to what ever he had to say. John was handsome, almost always dressed in suits, except at weekends when he dressed in shirts and trousers. His movements were quick, decisive, yet stiff. He always seemed to be in a hurry. Linda explained that he had a very busy, stressful and important job. Everything about him told me he was important, he knew it and so did I. His study, in which he spent a great deal of time, was completely out of bounds. I never dared to venture in, but my imagination would allow me to describe it perfectly. John came to represent the father figure in my life that I had never really had. Although he was cold, distant and at times brutal, I longed for his recognition and reached out for his affection. I was eager to please. To me, during that time he was the perfect man. Powerful and successful. I was proud when he dropped me off at my new school in his BMW car.

He made sure that I dressed in good clothes, rather than the “bag of rags” that I had came to them with. He made sure that I had a private tutor on a Sunday to help me with my reading, writing and math’s- so that none of his friends would think I was “Retarded”. I was in awe. Everyone seemed in awe of him. I forgave him and was silent about his abuse of power and position. I looked forward to him coming home from work even though this sometimes resulted in violence towards me or Linda.

The first slap I received from John was in the very early days with them. I remember using my new felt- tip pens to draw a large picture depicting John and Linda and me on my beautifully decorated bedroom wall. I was particularly pleased with the rainbow array of colours that I had used. I triumphantly bounced down stairs to get Linda to show off my art work. When she saw it she gasped, started to tremble and ran into the bathroom and returned with a cloth and began rubbing to remove my drawing. She couldn’t get it all off. She had also seriously marked the wall paper. Remaining calm, she explained that I must never do that again on anything but paper, certainly not on any walls. I thought that was the end of the matter.

However, I was playing in my room when John returned from work. Linda must have told him what had happened. He stormed into my room, examined the remnants of my drawing, face blood red, walked over to me whilst I was sat on the floor playing with Lego and slapped me on my right cheek and bellowed “You stupid little bastard, do you know how much that wall paper cost?” My response was instinctive and immediate - “Fuck off bastard”. Another, yet harder slap was delivered on the same cheek. This time it stunned me. I wet myself. But I didn’t cry. Linda came into the room, placed her hand on John’s arm and said gently “I will deal with this John”. He left. Linda cleaned me up, changed me and wiped the carpet. Sitting me on the bed she promised that she would never tell anyone about this and that I mustn’t either. Who would I tell? I certainly wouldn’t tell Pauline. I never told Pauline about any of the slaps or hits I got from John for things I did when I was naughty. Fathers did this to their sons didn’t they? I hadn’t seen what he had done wrong. Anyway, Pauline had already proven she could not be trusted.

If my memory serves me rightly, many positive things happened whilst I lived with John and Linda. My glide was sorted out with a short stay in hospital and was issued with my first pair of glasses that enabled me to see detail that had previously escaped me. I was bought and learnt to ride a bike. I learnt the basics of riding a horse. I went abroad in an airplane to visit Linda’s sister who was a teacher in Greece. I was captivated with the new experiences that stimulated my senses and helped to spark my imagination of what other things may be discovered outside of Sheffield. I went to see the Pantomime- “Cinderella” at a theatre. I was taken to many restaurants – although I did get a slap off John on one occasion for spitting the disgusting “foreign” food out onto the table. He didn’t hit me there and then; he waited until we were outside the restaurant.

We also had a Christmas gathering with John and Linda’s friends and family, I was actually praised by both John and Linda for my good behavior. John was much more pleasant to me when others were around. However, they had promised me extra Christmas presents if I “didn’t embarrass them”. My education and behaviour at school improved and was given extra pocket money for effort. We spent some weekends in the country at a Cottage owned by John’s mum and dad. I really enjoyed the space, climbing trees, building dams and splashing in the nearby stream. My cuddles with Linda were particularly precious.

On reflection, I definitely became calmer, less angry more giving and wanting to receive – especially from Linda. I was aware that I was now dressed in good clothes like other children. I had a choice of three pairs of shoes to wear. We even went to shoe shops that measured your feet.

The house was filled with a fascinating array of books. I think this opened up a door in my mind, facilitating my increasing interest in acquiring knowledge through reading that has still remained a burning passion to this very day. Linda most nights would read me a story and then eventually got me to read to her.

John’s only other interest outside of work seemed to be gardening. Sometimes, if he was in a good mood he would let me help. He would attempt to tell me names of the particular plants or shrubs that were abundant in his pristine garden, also the names of birds of various shapes and colours that visited his kingdom. His patience soon wavered however if I could not recall the names that he had told me, then he would send me back inside.

Linda would allow me to bake cakes with her. Also allowing me to eat the leftovers of her mixtures from the bowl with my fingers. The mixtures melted in my mouth and I was sure that I had never eaten anything so divine. My belly would rumble and mouth water with anticipation.

I was allowed to invite friends from school to my Birthday Party – unfortunately nobody turned up, just adults and Pauline. I hadn’t told John and Linda that I didn’t have any friends at school. I was introduced to a range of interesting people. John and Linda would hold dinner parties. I wasn’t allowed to stay for the full duration; I was packed off to bed. But my range of experience of interacting with other adults, from different backgrounds put me in good stead for my adult life. As in due time, if you stay with my story, you will find out.

In order to please them I tried to emulate John and Linda’s accent and their use of words so I could be more like them and so that they would not be embarrassed by my coarse and gravelly voice and common speech. I saw John wince a few times when I attempted to talk to one of his visitors. Although I knew that I miss - pronounced words, and in the totally wrong context, this would bring an appreciative smile to Linda’s face and followed by an affectionate pat on the head. John would say I sounded “ridiculous” and to stop attempting to be something that I was “obviously not, and never would be in a month of Sundays” and that we “should all know our place in the world”.

Although I had regularly overheard both Linda and John describe me to their friends as “disturbed” , “damaged” and “unbalanced”, maybe, my time with the Child Psychologist did help.

I was taken to see Pam on a regular basis for, I think, about a year. Although she had a kind face and a soft singy songy voice, I didn’t like her. She was almost too nice, it unsettled me and I was suspicious. Pauline had said she could help me “work through my emotions”. I am sure she tried. But for most of my time with her she was inflicted with my silences and blanking out techniques. She tried to get me to do all kinds of strange things; draw pictures of my Mother and Gran, associate colours with emotions, cradle a teddy bear and tell it how I felt, place little dolls that represented people in order of how close emotionally they were to me. She even pretended that she was my mother and asked me to describe how I felt about her! She looked nothing like my mother! One time, she got off her chair crawled over the floor on all fours, like a dog, got hold of my hand and said “It upsets me when you do not talk to me Robert, I can feel your pain, and you are a very hurt, angry and upset little boy. I want to help. Is there anything you want to say to me?” Apart from “get off me you stupid cow”, no there wasn’t! Although I didn’t open up to her directly, I do remember thinking about some of the questions she had asked me while I was in bed at night and feeling some very uncomfortable feelings. Maybe all this helped me get closer to John and Linda? Work through my emotions? Who knows? I do remember John and Linda explaining to a friend of theirs that Pam had gone as far as she could with me and had to conclude her sessions. But she anticipated that I would need greater help as an adult – how right she was.

I knew that John and Linda had sex. I could often hear them at night making noises in their bedroom. At first I thought John was hurting Linda again. But then I gathered it was sex. I had seen it on the TV and I had watched one of John’s videos that he had forgotten to take out of the video player. So I recognized the sounds. I had to suppress giggling when the bed was banging against the wall. I had also heard John on the telephone downstairs in the middle of the night, speaking very sexily. It couldn’t have been to Linda because she was fast asleep in her room. John mostly did this when he had been drinking his Brandy. I somehow also knew that having sex could make babies. What I hadn’t guessed or connected in my mind was that John and Linda were trying to make their “own” babies. That was until Pauline explained the reason why I had to move on from living with John and Linda.

It was at one of those serious meetings with Pauline that enlightened me and shattered my dreams that I would be with John and Linda forever. That I would never be their son and grow up to be just like John, with a BMW, know about plants and birds, and went to work in suits.

The bottom line was that Linda had become pregnant after trying for a number of years, and even receiving treatment through a clinic. She and John were delighted that finally they would have a child of their own and that they did not think that they could cope with me and the new baby. They felt extremely sorry that they could not offer me a long term home, and that they wanted me to leave as soon as possible. I detected a touch of anger in Pauline’s’ voice as she was telling me this, but all the rest of the conversation is a complete loss. I believe that it was at this point that my heart had frozen once again.

Was I so bad? Hadn’t I got better? Didn’t they love me like I thought they did? Couldn’t I help them with the new baby? Couldn’t they keep me and the baby? Would they change their mind if I really promised to be even better? Where am I going next? Does this mean another new school? My head swam with a multitude of other questions and unbridled emotions, as I struggled to come to terms with what I had just been told. I was due to go to America with John and Linda in the summer holidays – we had looked at the magazines, could I still go? When I was probed by Pauline as to how I felt – silent and totally defeated I made my way to my bedroom. I got my felt- tip pens out and frantically scribbled on as much as the wall paper as I could reach. I also scratched my face as hard as was possible. It stung and bled. I didn’t/ couldn’t cry, but somehow I felt better. This was the first time I recall turning to self – harming as an outlet for my constipated and unarticulated emotions.

Dear reader, I asked you to have some understanding and sympathy for John and Linda. What would you have honestly done in this situation? I was still a handful, they had put up with me for two years. They had obviously always wanted a child of their own. I am sure that they didn’t fully realize the affect this was to have on me. They must have felt that they couldn’t give me what I needed and meet the needs of a new baby. Maybe they genuinely felt that it was within my best interest that I had to move on – that I would be going to a better place? They could not have known what I was to be subjected to after leaving them. I do not believe that they can be held accountable for what was to happen. It is possible that even after all these years I am being over protective of John and Linda, still idolizing them, but I can truthfully say these were the happiest two years that I can recall as a child drifting in the Care System. Maybe this speaks volumes in its self.

As I have previously mentioned I knew about sex. But I had not personally had any direct experience. That was until I was placed in my next home – where my purity and innocence in this area was robbed. It was also the place where my self- harming flourished and my self- hatred blossomed.

Edited 24th September 06 Due to welcomed feedback received.
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