Read Online Punished: A mother’s cruelty. A daughter’s survival. A secret that couldn’t be told. by Vanessa Steel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vanessa Steel
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holidays she would have to take us with her. Usually she left Nigel and me to play at Dad’s office in the electroplating business, where Granddad Casey, Uncle Graham and Dad all made a fuss of us. I remember the sulphurous, rotten-egg smell of the place, which must have been a by-product of one of the processes there. Among other things, they electro-plated nibs for old-fashioned pens and Dad used to give me lots of extra ones to keep. Granddad kept a spinning top there as well as at home and we would play with that, or they gave us pens and paper to do drawings, or we were allowed to make long chains with paperclips.
This was infinitely preferable to being dragged round the shops with Mum. She never actually let me come into shops with her. Instead I would be given strict instructions to stand outside the door without moving and wait for herto come out again. They were usually fabric shops and she said I might touch the rolls of fabric with my sticky fingers and get her into trouble. I remember being very scared on these occasions, with so many strange adults milling around, and sometimes she seemed to take hours.
During the Easter holidays after my sixth birthday, I got a huge fright on the journey into town. Nigel wasn’t with us because he was playing at a friend’s house. Mum and I got on the train at Bentley Heath as usual. I was being as good as possible but I could sense she was in a testy mood. I’d already had a clip round the ear for dawdling as we walked to the station. We got on board and sat down in a carriage of our own. Soon after the train started moving Mum got up, saying ‘Back in a moment. Stay right there.’
I sat neatly as I’d been told, with my hands on my lap, feet swinging back and forwards without reaching the ground. I looked out the window then glanced back at the corridor to see if Mum was returning. There was no sign of her. The train pulled into the next station and more people got on but still Mum didn’t come back. I was so little and everyone else was so big. With mounting anxiety I got up and went to look up and down the corridor, but there was no sign of her. What if she forgot all about me and got off the train without me?
I began to hear voices in my head. ‘You’re lost, Vanessa, what are you going to do?’ ‘Tell someone where you live,’ came another voice. I could remember our address – 39 Bentley Road – so I decided that if Mum didn’t come back I would have to approach a guard at Birmingham Station and tell him I was lost. The voices continued, sometimes a mass of whispers like a breeze blowing through the leaveson a poplar tree, so indistinct I couldn’t make out the words, then one voice would get through: ‘Don’t worry’, or ‘You’re lost’, or ‘It’ll be OK’. I had no idea who or what they were but I was getting used to hearing whispers in my head, usually when I was upset about something, and they didn’t scare me any more.
The journey took around 45 minutes and by the time the train pulled into Birmingham New Street, where it terminated, I was tearful and shaking. I realized that I didn’t have a ticket and the guard might shout at me for being on the train without one, as we’d seen happening to a boy some weeks earlier. I waited until all the other passengers had got off then I climbed down the steps on to the platform and looked around for a guard I could talk to. I’d just identified one and was nervously walking up to him when all of a sudden Mum appeared and grabbed me by the arm, her fingers digging in and bruising me.
‘There you are! How dare you go wandering off when I told you to stay still!’
My eyes full of tears, I looked up at her face and I could see that far from being angry, she thought the whole thing was a huge joke.
‘I thought you’d forgotten about me,’ I said, the tears spilling over.
‘If only I could,’ she said spitefully. ‘If only I could.’
She had obviously left me on my own just to give me
This was infinitely preferable to being dragged round the shops with Mum. She never actually let me come into shops with her. Instead I would be given strict instructions to stand outside the door without moving and wait for herto come out again. They were usually fabric shops and she said I might touch the rolls of fabric with my sticky fingers and get her into trouble. I remember being very scared on these occasions, with so many strange adults milling around, and sometimes she seemed to take hours.
During the Easter holidays after my sixth birthday, I got a huge fright on the journey into town. Nigel wasn’t with us because he was playing at a friend’s house. Mum and I got on the train at Bentley Heath as usual. I was being as good as possible but I could sense she was in a testy mood. I’d already had a clip round the ear for dawdling as we walked to the station. We got on board and sat down in a carriage of our own. Soon after the train started moving Mum got up, saying ‘Back in a moment. Stay right there.’
I sat neatly as I’d been told, with my hands on my lap, feet swinging back and forwards without reaching the ground. I looked out the window then glanced back at the corridor to see if Mum was returning. There was no sign of her. The train pulled into the next station and more people got on but still Mum didn’t come back. I was so little and everyone else was so big. With mounting anxiety I got up and went to look up and down the corridor, but there was no sign of her. What if she forgot all about me and got off the train without me?
I began to hear voices in my head. ‘You’re lost, Vanessa, what are you going to do?’ ‘Tell someone where you live,’ came another voice. I could remember our address – 39 Bentley Road – so I decided that if Mum didn’t come back I would have to approach a guard at Birmingham Station and tell him I was lost. The voices continued, sometimes a mass of whispers like a breeze blowing through the leaveson a poplar tree, so indistinct I couldn’t make out the words, then one voice would get through: ‘Don’t worry’, or ‘You’re lost’, or ‘It’ll be OK’. I had no idea who or what they were but I was getting used to hearing whispers in my head, usually when I was upset about something, and they didn’t scare me any more.
The journey took around 45 minutes and by the time the train pulled into Birmingham New Street, where it terminated, I was tearful and shaking. I realized that I didn’t have a ticket and the guard might shout at me for being on the train without one, as we’d seen happening to a boy some weeks earlier. I waited until all the other passengers had got off then I climbed down the steps on to the platform and looked around for a guard I could talk to. I’d just identified one and was nervously walking up to him when all of a sudden Mum appeared and grabbed me by the arm, her fingers digging in and bruising me.
‘There you are! How dare you go wandering off when I told you to stay still!’
My eyes full of tears, I looked up at her face and I could see that far from being angry, she thought the whole thing was a huge joke.
‘I thought you’d forgotten about me,’ I said, the tears spilling over.
‘If only I could,’ she said spitefully. ‘If only I could.’
She had obviously left me on my own just to give me
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