‘If I don’t find her soon then they’ll take her little girl off her.’
I never knew that Lucy had a daughter. She can barely look after herself so I don’t know how she copes with a child. But maybe I’m being harsh. After all, I’m hardly someone who can claim to being an expert in looking after themselves.
‘Has she got the baby with her?’
‘No, her mum’s got her, but Lucy doesn’t get on with her mum. It’s complicated. Lucy’s was in and out of care so Social Services have been intent on looking for any excuse to take her daughter off her.’
‘How do you know Lucy?’
I know that’s not really relevant but I need to know what’s Jack’s getting out of this. After all, he’s a young guy on a Saturday morning. He should be getting ready to go to the football or something.
‘I went to school with her brother. I’ve known Lucy all her life. She’s had a tough life.’
I want to be able to help Jack but I don’t know what use I’ll be. If I even attempt to go outside then I know that I’m going end up collapsing again. But at the same time knowing that Jack needs my help is going to make me feel even worse.
‘I feel guilty,’ Jack says, catching me off guard because my mind has started to drift.
‘She told me before she got pregnant that she’s was being taken advantage of by a group of men, but I thought that she was exaggerating because she’s always been a bit of a flirt. Plus, I didn’t really understand what she meant. She just said that she’d met a couple of them when she was out. I thought that she meant that she’d met some blokes in a pub or something like that.’
Jack’s voice starts to sound strained. Like he’s just realised that if he’d have listened properly to Lucy in the first place then Adam and his “friends” would have been dealt with a long time ago. Perhaps meaning that over girls wouldn’t have had to have gone through the same abuse.
Girls like me.
I want to put the phone down on Jack because what he’s saying is making me feel awful. What if what I went through could have been stopped? My life was pretty much ruined anyway so it’s not like I’ve missed out on any golden opportunities to make something of myself, but that might not be the case for all the girls who’ve been abused.
I finally manage to tell Jack that I’m sorry and that I’ll call him when I’m feeling better. Whenever that may be.
PART TWO
Chapter One
I never expected to get one card for my birthday, let alone six. I’m 16 today, but have I got anything to celebrate? I’ve sort of got my health. My physical health is okay. And my mental health is slowly getting better. Also, I’m not dying from A.I.D.S. so it seems that condoms actually do work.
For the first time in years I feel like I’ve got people in my life who actually care about me. Kate’s still on the scene but I just use the days when she’s on duty to do some school work. I’ve decided to try and attempt to do some GCSEs. At the moment, I won’t be taking them this year, the year that normal 16 year-olds do, but then I suppose I’m never going to be normal.
Dan still feels the need to come in and see me almost daily, but his subordinate has been assigned duties more in line with her skills as a police officer, like filling in for a lollypop man who’s had a stroke, and she now spends her days helping little school children walk across a zebra crossing. Well, she’s probably not doing that but it’s my special day and I can use my birthday wishes on whatever I want.
Gillian got investigated, but, as I thought would happen, she was able to keep her job. She’s just been passed on to another department where no doubt she claims that her experience in failing to look after me has made her even more qualified in doing her job and that she even deserves a pay rise. In the end though, Gillian hadn’t really done much wrong. She just didn’t do anything right. But then she’s good enough at arse licking to get what she wants so no doubt in a few years she’ll be in Mrs Robinson’s job.
Adam and his “friends” have a date for their court case. There’s going to be nine men in court but only six of them are ones who raped me. Just like there are victims out in the streets who won’t come forward; there are cunning and calculating rapists who are roaming the streets, waiting for the next “Cheap White Meat” party date to be announced.
Dan was right that time when he said the police were investigating incidents of child sexual exploitation all over the country. Jack’s shown me the various press articles that his friend has put together on a website. Jack’s friend. The one with the “reputation”. The one who Dan said that it wasn’t a good idea to be involved with.
Now I’m not saying that any of the separate police investigations are linked, and that there’s some national “Cheap White Meat” distributor, but there are a lot of “themes” which keep on arising when reading the articles. One of the most significant themes is that the police were more concerned about “political correctness” being followed rather than highlighting the fact that young girls were danger from a certain type of “men” who work in takeaways and as taxi drivers.
I remember as a kid in primary school being told not accept sweets or lifts from a stranger. But I don’t remember the lesson on not accepting lifts from a bloke who’d slowly won your trust over a number of weeks.
But of course, when I was hanging around in Megabites I wasn’t fully right in the head. I seemed intent on causing harm to myself one way or another. If I hadn’t have been hanging around in that takeaway then I could have just as easily fallen into the hands of some down and out alcoholics or drug addicts.
I was at a very weird stage in my life. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. And I didn’t know if anyone would want me. So when Adam actually took an interest in me then I didn’t really think about the consequences. After all, I was 15. I consented. Lucy’s also admitted that she consented, at first.
If Adam hadn’t introduced me to any of his “friends” then he’d probably have got away with it. But I don’t really like thinking about it. Whenever I do, I automatically feel ill. That’s why I agreed to start doing the GCSEs. It helps take my mind off things.
Sandra seems keen for me to open my cards. I don’t know why, I pretty much know who they’re going to be from. It’s not that I’m ungrateful but receiving a piece of colourful card with a few words doesn’t really mean that much to me.
I hold the cards out in front of me. Three of them have stamps on which means that they’ve come from “outside”. I leave those to the end and open the one I know is from The Others. The Self-Harmer thinks she’s a bit of an artist so she always draws little pictures around the edge of the envelope. Next, I open one that turns out to be the one from the staff. I scan my eyes over the various messages, smiling whilst nodding my head, for what I hope is long enough to pacify Sandra. I get a pleasant surprise when I open the next one and it’s a personal one from Sandra. I’m actually being sincere when I tell her that it means a lot to me and I automatically open the next card without trying to guess who it’s from. However, when I notice the handwriting I automatically know who’s got back in touch with me.
Chapter Two
Mum’s being released on parole in two weeks. The envelope has already been opened, all my mail is screened for some reason, so Sandra already knows what it says. I read it and try to take it all in. Mum’s not really put much, just the basics. But then I start to wonder. Mum might be about to be released, but where’s she going to go?
Seven years is a long time. It’s not like we can both pack what meagre belongings we’ve been allowed to keep and go back to the town we were both born in. And would Mum even want me in her life again? I’ve been making progress over the past few months but I doubt that any doctor would recommend that I went to live with someone who themselves was being reacquainted with freedom.
Sandra tells me that today is not the day to worry about the future. And she’s right. Today is the day to celeb
rate with pizza. I’m being sarcastic by the way. I’ve never been one to look forward to my birthday and I don’t see why this one should be any different. It’s not like I can have loads of friends and family round to celebrate.
‘Are you not going to open your other cards?’
‘Why don’t you save me risking a paper-cut and tell me who they’re from. I know you’ve screened them.’
Sandra shakes her head and says, ‘There’s no need to be like that.’
But they way I’m feeling there is. I don’t know why but finding out that Mum’s going to be released soon has made me feel awful. What if she does reject me? It’s not like I’ve been pining all my hopes on her coming to rescue me from the nut-house, but the option would be nice.
Most people get gift vouches or money in their birthday cards. I got a prison visiting order. Sandra must think that I’m up to visiting Mum otherwise she wouldn’t have let me see it. Mum just put in the card that it’s up to me how I want to take things with our relationship. It’s almost like she knows that the chances of me being given the visiting order are remote so the card stood a better chance of getting passed on to me if if didn’t have anything provocative written in it.
I look quizzically at the visiting order. Sandra explains that Mum’s been moved to a different prison. When I start to look worried she quickly explains that it’s a good thing. That it show’s Mum’s made a lot of progress recently and that the prison service feel she’s no longer a danger to the public.
But then Mum never was a danger to the public. All she did was try to protect her daughter. All she did was what any mother would do. It’s just a shame that a lot of people, who somehow have the power to ruin people’s lives, don’t see it like that.
Sandra tries to sound positive when she says that Mum’s new prison is only 15 miles away, but I don’t see what difference the distance travelled would make. I’d still be bundled into the back of a people carrier and flanked either side by a member of staff. I’d still have to be searched before I got into the people carrier. I’d be searched again before they’d let me into the prison. And finally I’d be searched again before they let me out.
But I’m not sure if I want to see Mum straight away. She’ll have changed so much. Her face won’t have seen proper fresh air for seven years. Her hair won’t be the same. Her body might not be the same.
I know mine isn’t. The last time I properly hugged Mum I didn’t even come above her shoulders. But now I’d be head and shoulders above her. It’d be like hugging a totally different person. But then I suppose I’ll never know unless I get over my fears and face up to things.
I put the visiting order to one side and open the last two cards. The first one is from Lucy. I check the postmark, in case she’s run away again, but she’s been behaving herself lately. She had a bad spell when the arrests were first made and it started to be reported in the local paper, but she’s finally seen a psychiatrist and seems to be making progress. Faster progress than I am even.
Although, typically, I don’t like my psychiatrist. And why should I? If she were any good at being a psychiatrist then she’d be working with the rich and famous, getting them over the disappointment of their latest album not selling, not having to deal with some former child prostitute with unresolved childhood issues.
The final card’s from Jack. It doesn’t really say much, but at least he’s bothered to send me a card. My mood towards Jack constantly changes. Sometimes I wish that he would disappear from my life because he’s got what he wanted and he’s made sure that justice is going to be brought against the men who go around targeting vulnerable young girls. But other times I wish I could have a proper relationship with him.
Not like that.
But I have to ask permission every time I have any contact with him. But I’m 16 now. Maybe he’ll make a move on me.
Ha, a certain type of farm animal will fly.
Chapter Three
Even though it’s my birthday, I let The Others fill their plates with pizza before going over to see what’s left. I’m still not sure if The Others know properly about what’s been happening in my life over the past six month or so. They still make a point of letting me know I’m not a part of their “little gang”, but they treat me with more respect now. It’s almost as if because I’ve stayed true to myself, and not begged them to like me, that they sometimes forget they’re supposed to hate me and almost treat me like a human being.
Because it’s a special occasion, the rest of the staff are obliged to join us, so it’s standing room only by the time Sandra waltzes in with a cake. I don’t like being the centre of attention, but I know that the sooner I blow out my candles, and pretend to make a wish, then the sooner the cake will be divided up and everyone will disappear once they’ve had their share.
Because everyone’s busy stuffing their faces there’s an uneasy silence in the room. Normally, this silence is filled by one of The Others saying something inappropriate and one of the staff shouting at them in their best military voice about how they should behave. But The Others seem to be on their best behaviour today. Maybe I should turn 16 everyday.
Eventually though The Psychotic starts to get restless, and no doubt Sargent Do-As-I-Say wants a fag, so she’s encouraged to go into the enclosure and get some fresh air. Because the seal’s now been broken, everybody else has an excuse to leave and within a couple of minutes it’s just me and Sandra.
So that’s the full extent of my birthday celebrations. Well, at least I can pin all my hopes on having a better 18th.
Sandra’s keeps looking at me, sympathetically. So I know she’s going to start asking about Mum soon. Whilst I might talk to Sandra, and do almost everything she says, deep down I’m still an awkward little bitch so I’m not going to raise the subject first.
I shoot her a look when she mentions something about the pizza being nice, a look which tells her to get on with it, so she clears her throat and asks:
‘Are you going to thank your mum for sending you a birthday card?’
I think about going into a tirade about how a birthday card on her daughter’s 16th birthday is the least of her obligations, but I remember that things haven’t exactly been easy for Mum over the past seven years. She lost all her fight in the end and wouldn’t even appeal against her sentence.
A couple of years after it happened, I realised that if I came forward and admitted the truth then they’d release Mum. But when I went to see her she could hardly make eye contact with me, and whenever I tried to speak to her she’d just tell me to be quiet. And I think seeing Mum like that was the reason why I retreated into my shell because I knew that I had no chance of living a normal life for a very long time.
‘I know your Mum sent you a visiting order, but she’s allowed day release now.’
Would I want Mum to come and visit me here? To see the conditions I have to live in. I know they don’t compare to a proper prison but I’ve got a pretty funny version of freedom.
And what does Mum know about me now? Does she know all about Adam? Does she know all about the court case. Does she know that in a few weeks time that I’m going to be thrust into the media spotlight again. Although this time my identity won’t be revealed, I’m getting requests through from the media to put my side of the story out.
I’ve rejected them all so far, but Lucy has already done a couple of interviews that will apparently be published in line with the court case. However, Lucy’s able to deal with talking about what happened to her far more comfortably. And her story is worth reading more. There’s more gory details. More shocking tales of abuse. My story is just one of loneliness and naivety. Then of course, there’s me being cruel enough to take advantage of Adam’s loneliness and naivety.
Who am I kidding? I didn’t have a clue what I was getting myself in for when I first started accepting lifts from Adam. He definitely knew what he was doing because by the time he
finally made a move on me not only was I expecting it, I actually wanted it. How do I explain that to Mum?
It’s bad enough having to tell Dan and whoever his daily subordinate is. At least I’ll never have to see them again once the court case is over. Well, unless they finally get enough evidence together to identify the three men who are still on the loose. Then I would have to go through it all again.
Explain again how the first time that I was asked to go and “wait upstairs” that I expected Adam to be the one who came into the room. There’s not really much you can do when a bloke twice your size locks the door and starts to get undressed. If I’d have screamed; who would have heard me? If I’d have tried to fight him off then what if he’d have got violent. After all, I’d gone up to the room expecting to get sex. It just happened to be with a different person.
It didn’t trigger in my head that I was being used and abused at the time. I’d heard about girls being trafficked for sex, but it was always against their own will. I voluntarily walked up the stairs. I’d heard about girls being forced to work in brothels, but it they were always forced to sleep with loads of men each day. I only ever saw one a day. If that.
Adam never put any pressure on me to be there at a certain time each day. They played it low key. But when I turned up of my own accord they certainly took advantage of me.
I suppose I should have told someone straight away after my first time with Adam. But who could I have told? Kate and Gillian wouldn’t have done anything about it. They wouldn’t have known how. And all this went on after Lucy’s initial allegations. The police must have been keeping an eye on the place, just in case the erratic teen mum with a history of drug and alcohol abuse was telling the truth.
Surely they noticed the same girl sat in the window for hours on end at least two or three days a week. Behaviour like that isn’t normal. But then it’s like Jack constantly says; the police were too scared to investigate because it went against political correctness.