The Little Prisoner_ A Memoir - Jane Elliott [50]
‘Just having a cup of tea with my friend,’ she would blithely reply as he poured out obscenities at her.
Richard and Mum would insist on taking Emma and babysitting her for me whenever they felt like it, whether I wanted them to or not. I didn’t want Richard anywhere near my baby, although I didn’t actually think he would do her any physical harm. He seemed to put her on a pedestal, as if she was the little daughter he had always wanted and never had. Sometimes I would try to stop him taking her, but I didn’t have the strength left to fight.
When Richard and Mum were going down to Southend for a holiday they said they wanted to take Emma with them, because she deserved a holiday. I desperately didn’t want her to spend that much time near Richard, but they weren’t offering a choice.
‘Promise me you’ll keep her with you all the time,’ I begged Mum, ‘that you’ll never leave her alone with him.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ she said, as if I was mad to suggest such a thing, as if she hadn’t turned a blind eye to the things Richard had done to me throughout my childhood and was still doing now, as if he hadn’t beaten her time and time again with no reason and no remorse.
I felt terrible letting Emma go and for the whole five days I didn’t step outside the flat, just spent the time frantically decorating Emma’s bedroom for when she got back, as if new wallpaper and shiny paint would make everything all right. The future seemed so bleak and I didn’t feel I had control over any part of my life, but at least I could control how nice her room was.
I hated some of the things Richard was teaching her, like calling black people ‘niggers’, which he thought was hysterically funny.
‘Your dad has just fucked off,’ he would say to her, ‘and your mummy is a fat slag and a whore.’
The more I asked him not to say those sorts of things to her, the more he did it. Almost every statement that came out of his mouth was either abusive or racist or offensive in some other way. I felt desperate when I thought that Emma might end up being affected by what she was hearing at this early stage in her life. I wanted even more to run away and hide somewhere with her, but where could I possibly go where my stepfather wouldn’t follow? I had no money, and I didn’t know anyone outside our area who could have given me shelter. If I went to the police for help he would find out immediately and Emma, Mum and I would all be in danger from the repercussions. Even though I was now an adult and a mother, Richard still seemed invincible and inescapable. If he told me to do something, I automatically obeyed. ‘You’re an unfit fucking mother,’ he would scream at me if I ever tried to argue about anything. ‘We could ring social services and have that kid taken off you any time.’ My self-esteem was so low by then I actually believed that was true. There were times when I thought about taking both our lives because I couldn’t see any other way for us to escape him.
I was teetering right on the edge of insanity, but I did still manage to keep up appearances most of the time for friends and acquaintances. Just like at school, people who didn’t know me well thought I was the life and soul of any party, always laughing and joking. Anyone who did know me well, or was around