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It was only later, when he got bail, she found out. She had no idea why and Mum wasn't about to tell her. It was Marge calling in a panic to say Noel had been arrested. By the time I got home I felt weary and numb. I spent hours giving my statement, going through every painful detail. It took four months for Carla and me to pluck up the courage.Ĭarla went first, arriving home that evening feeling emotional and exhausted. Mum begged us to go to the police but it was a while before we agreed. Had Carla, like me, been raped? "No," she told me tearfully. There was one more thing I needed to know and I dreaded the answer. "I felt sick whenever he was around," she told me, "and I feel like I've been faking being happy ever since." Miserably she recounted how she was five when Noel first touched her and how she'd been paralysed with fear. "What did he do to you?" I asked her, my eyes filling with tears. If only I'd said something, he might have left Carla alone. My stomach lurched as the truth dawned on me. When Dad mentioned Noel her face fell and she ran out of the house crying. My younger sister, Carla, arrived a little while later, oblivious to what had gone on. Meekly, I stepped through the door to be met by Mum, Dad and Nan. It was my dad instructing me to go to my nan's. Instead I sat, crying in my car, as a wave of relief, apprehension and sadness for my stolen childhood overwhelmed me.Ī little while later my mobile rang. They need to know."Īnd with that he left to see my family. "You'll never be happy while he's getting away with it," he yelled. While Noel was around I found it impossible to be happy.Įd begged me to tell my family and one day after yet another heated argument, he flipped. With hurt in his eyes, Ed relented but over the following months it was to cause tension. When I told him about Noel he went mad, threatening to go round and sort him out. But then three-and-a-half years ago I met my present boyfriend, Ed. We broke up and for a while I was single. He was shocked when I told him what Noel had done but, slowly, he helped me overcome my terror of physical intimacy. What if it was a girl? What if Noel touched his daughter, too? When she gave birth to a son, It was a huge relief.Ī couple of years later I met my first boyfriend.
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When I was about 14, Marge told us she was having a baby. "Get off," I'd hiss, batting away his mauling hands. I gave Noel a wide berth, but, occasionally, I'd spot a disgusting look of lust in his eyes. Thankfully, as I got older I learned to fight back. But the more I bottled it up, the angrier I became. My parents assumed it was teenage tantrums. Unable to admit the cause, I lashed out at my family. A seething anger engulfed me which I struggled to control. But how could I begin to tell her what was wrong?Īfter that my personality changed. When my nan came to pick me up I was subdued and tearful. Then he came back over and callously hurled me a £20 note.
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Noel left me sobbing on the sofa and went to the kitchen. The ordeal was over in minutes but my innocence was lost for ever. I struggled, terrified, but I was completely defenceless. He tore at my clothes, and then, as I cried, he raped me. Sitting anxiously on the sofa I tried to watch television but suddenly he was there, pinning me down. Noel was up a ladder fixing the shed roof and eyeballed me as I dashed down the path. I remember the feeling of dread as my nan pulled up outside their house. Then one awful day, when I was 11, he took things further. Whenever Marge wasn't there, Noel would pounce on me, running his disgusting hands over my body. My family thought I was being silly but my fear was justified. I was too frightened to say anything as he had warned me not to tell anyone.īy the time I was 10 my aunt and uncle had moved into their own place.ĭuring the holidays my parents had to work, so they'd take me to stay at Nan's, in Chatham, Kent.īut when my grandmother went to the shops she'd drop me off at Marge and Noel's. Noel had put his hands under my clothes and was touching me.īeing so young, I didn't understand what was going on but after that it happened more and more. I clambered under the covers and cuddled up, giggling at the cartoons.īut then I felt something. "She's gone to work," he smiled, patting the bed and switching to children's TV. Noel was lying in bed and grinned back but my aunt wasn't there. Racing through my nan's house, I burst into my Aunt Marge and Uncle Noel's bedroom. I used to be an outgoing little girl but, when I was eight, everything changed.