Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [55]
Whatever our early teething problems, I know their hearts were in the right place. When my grandfather died, Granny gave me a box of his letters which included Grandpa’s claim to become my guardian. In it he says, ‘I am a fit and capable man on early retirement and able to offer a good home and background to the said minor. I am in receipt of a pension of £4,000 a year and own capital property worth approximately £30,000. Said minor has for some years been very close to me and my wife because of my daughter’s illness and incapacity prior to her death. I am confident that my wife and I will provide a good home and education for Cathy.’
He also goes on to say he would ‘allow reasonable access for the petitioner to the said child’. It’s all so formal and, when I first read the letter, I struggled to make out who was who. I was obviously the child, but who was the ‘petitioner’? And then I came across another letter, from my father. So he was the petitioner and he had requested access. I was a bit shocked by his demands: ‘I would ask that reasonable access should be defined as being allowed to take my daughter out for one day a month, following three days’ notice.’ One day a month? In all honesty, I can’t recall seeing him at all during my younger years.
My grandparents took all responsibility, then, and became my surrogate parents. I don’t know if you ever appreciate at the time the people who do the most for you – and children, of course, take for granted the fact that someone will be there for them. In an ideal world, out of sheer gratitude alone, I would have been the perfect child. For a while, and to a certain extent, I was. But it wouldn’t last.
Because of Grandpa’s early retirement, he wasn’t exactly flush with cash. I didn’t appreciate that at the time and, approaching my ninth birthday, I decided it was time to finally get rid of my biggest embarrassment.
‘Can I have a new bike, please, Grandpa?’ I begged.
He thought about it for less than a second.
‘No,’ he replied, ‘but I’ll get you another tyre!’
And he did. What other nine-year-old wakes up on their birthday to unwrap a black tyre and wheel? In hindsight, of course, he did the right thing. I’m the same now. My son isn’t spoilt. Tough love is the only way to go. But no child appreciates it at the time.
Apart from my grandparents’ rules, school quickly became the mainstay of my life. I couldn’t get over the way it just continued to be there, day after day. I’d never had structure in my life. Getting to grips with timekeeping and homework deadlines took a while, but once the penny had dropped I was a new person. Whatever it was in me that enabled me to survive the unwanted attentions of men like Mark, Brian and their mates had made me stronger. School was nothing compared to that. Just as I’d actually enjoyed making the bongs and joints and taken pride in caring for our flat and for Mum, I totally embraced schoolwork. It was a challenge, there was a logic to it and I could see the path I needed to take to make progress. That was enough for me. I love a challenge.
Not being able to read or write is a bit of a disadvantage when you join a school late – especially if everyone else can. Unsurprisingly, I was bottom of the class from the moment I stepped through the doors of Saltdean Primary School. But, I’m proud to say, it didn’t last. Set me a challenge and I will meet it. If I can, I’ll beat it. That’s how I am now and that’s how I was then. Whether it was rolling joints or playing glockenspiels in the sand, I wanted perfection and I was prepared to work for it.
Everyone in the class was above me, but there were these two brainboxes, Peter Haslem and Jeremy Kempton, who were head and shoulders above everyone. Once I’d got my feet under the table, there was only one target. I thought, I’m not having this. I want to beat them.
So I knuckled down and I worked and