Tell Me You're Sorry, Daddy--Two Scared Little Girls. One Abusive Father. One Survived Against All Odds to Tell Their Story

by Caryn Walker

  Mum was pushing legal documents on her when she visited and telling her to ‘sign her consent there and then’, as well as having custodianship papers delivered to the council. Jenny’s social worker, on the other hand, was pleading with her to get independent legal advice, rather than just listen to Mum’s lawyer, and ended up asking the Social Services Department legal team to step in. They, in turn, suggested a lawyer who could help, but all the time Jenny was making plans to move into a flat with her friend, Dawn, as soon as she turned seventeen in February. Looking back, I feel she was taking her eye off the ball. I want to tell her to get Donna, get her out of Mum’s clutches, and take all the help she can get to make a life for them both together. Move away if she has to, definitely cut contact with Mum – just run, really. Just run. It’s like watching a storm approach and knowing you can do nothing about it. Everything was piling up, and rather than fleeing to safety, Jenny was hurtling straight for disaster.

  Mum started to get annoyed at this point – although she was always annoyed – and began calling the Social Services Department, saying she was ‘fed up being messed about and was prepared to put the baby “in care” if Jenny continued’. This says it all. Mum would give her granddaughter up to strangers, to the system that had failed all of us, if she didn’t get her own way.

  In the middle of March, it all kicked off. I can only imagine how frustrated the professionals were with Mum’s behaviour; she called one morning and said she’d ‘had enough. She wanted the baby removed ‘…today. Mrs Yeo understood that we would probably have to put Donna with foster-parents but insisted that we remove her.’ She was throwing her toys out of the pram. I think Mum was so used to getting her own way that she couldn’t quite fathom why it wasn’t working in this instance. Of course, if she’d only been dealing with Jenny she would have got her way, but she was faced with an army of people who had been watching her manoeuvres for years and knew just what she was doing.

  They then phoned the Family Placement Team, then Parkside, to see whether there was any way Donna could stay with Jenny. It was agreed that she could move to Clumber Lodge, on the acceptance of the nuns there, for six to eight weeks, a stay of execution. The foster placement request was cancelled. A personal application had to be made to the headquarters of the Social Services Department, who were concerned about cost, but eventually everything was agreed. Mum was waiting at the door with all of Donna’s belongings packed up when they arrived to take her. When Donna and Jenny were reunited, it seems as if Jenny went into maternal mode very quickly, soothing her little girl, staying beside her until she fell asleep and asking for a buggy so she could take her out. Once at Clumber Lodge, she and the baby shared a room and Jenny was in sole charge of her.

  There was a strange note from a week or so later, when the social worker went to visit Mum, that said Mum wanted it made clear to Jenny that she was the one who made her take the baby, that she was behind it. Even the social worker thinks this is odd, but I see it as Mum trying to control the narrative as always.

  Within a few weeks, it is reported that Donna is taking a few steps – she wasn’t walking at all when Jenny got her back – and that, when social workers watch without my sister being aware of it, she interacts really well with her baby. I assume they had to be sure she wasn’t just putting it on for them. However, they also said Jenny is ‘terrified that Donna will be taken off her’. This seems perfectly natural to me.

  Jenny has continued to care well for her baby. Physically, she handles the baby well, bathing her each day, changing her regularly, and always having her looking lovely. Jenny tries to find interesting meals for baby to eat. Emotionally, Jenny cares for Donna well and understands the need of a baby having a one to one relationship. Jenny talks and plays with her baby, especially when she is carrying out the intimate tasks like bathing and changing. Jenny has followed her guidelines well, taking full responsibility of Donna, and carries out all the chores appertaining to looking after a baby. Jenny has been disappointed with the lack of contact from family.’ (Sister Benedicte, Head of Home, Clumber Lodge)

  So, what happened, Jenny? Where did it go wrong?

  From what I can tell, Mum got in touch after a while – and, who knows? Maybe this was enough to make Jenny take her eye off the ball. I only have the reports and files; obviously there is nothing written down about the visits and conversations when there was no one there to see if any bile was being poured into my sister’s ear, her mothering questioned, her character assassinated. Whatever did happen, she started to fall back into hanging around ‘lads’. On one occasion it is noted that she stayed out until 10:30pm with Donna, and that she was starting to lose her temper when the little girl didn’t eat properly. She also started questioning whether the social workers made up things about Mum. It’s clear that she must have challenged them about the physical abuse when she was little as they had to show her file photos.

  Jenny thought the bruises could have been either accidental or just the photos being touched-in until she saw the one with the stripes across her bottom. She then realised that we had only told her the truth and then she told me about other incidents when she had been home on trial, including two that had occurred when she was pregnant. Jenny didn’t blame her mother at all, in fact she thought that she had probably been so naughty that she had deserved it. So, even faced with hard evidence, she couldn’t really accept the whole truth of the situation.

  Jenny said that she was more determined than ever to bring Donna up herself and have that loving relationship with her that she obviously craves from her own mother.

  She was desperate to move out of Clumber Lodge – that much is evident. She just wanted a flat and a ‘normal’ life; but she was asking for the moon. Just as things started moving on accommodation, the notes show ‘her Mum and Dad have gone to see her, and they have been reconciled’. Immediately, Jenny started going back home for overnight visits with Donna; she had been reeled in, yet again. Mum began going to interviews with her, saying nothing was right, pushing herself into the picture, but Jenny did eventually get a flat for her and her daughter. Who knows what involvement there was then? I can guess, as it is noted that ‘Jenny is in a foul mood’ quite often. By June 1987, it is noted that Donna is a ‘bright, inquisitive and playful 15 months old’. Mum is giving ‘additional advice’ on feeding, which is ‘at variance with Health Visitor’s advice, and Jenny is not confident enough to contradict. Mrs Yeo’s critical attitude undermines her confidence. Jenny realises she is expected to fail. Jenny is upset at her mother’s interference […] however, if she stands up to her mother, Jenny is sure she will be hit.’

  Mum had started leaving messages at various offices saying she was ‘concerned’ about Donna, but it was a chicken-and-egg situation. There were indeed concerns, but who knows what caused Jenny to act the way she did? By August 1987, it is noted: ‘we have been informed by other residents that Donna is being left, time limit not known, whilst Jenny visits a man across the road. Also a man babysitting […] had been questioned in connection with a local murder. Complaints from neighbours that Jenny allows people in at all times of the night.’

  By the end of September, there has been a report that a man on drugs in the flat has knocked Donna over whilst under the influence. Pot and heroin is being used, and there is a spate of housebreakings in the local area with Jenny’s friends the main suspects. Jenny is also shouting at neighbours, who want action before they do something themselves. ‘Also using the fire escape and throwing tomato’s [sic] and carrots at the old people next door. It would seem the situation has deteriorated and a week’s notice to quit is needed. [One of the men] is said to be a child molester. Jenny also said she had no food for Donna – she may be feeding all the lads instead.’

  Lots of messages were left for Jenny but she had disappeared. One friend said he was ‘very angry at Donna being at risk due to Jenny’s alleged smack problem and that she was incapable of caring for her baby. Pointed out that Jenny has not actual
ly been seen as incapable by the authorities.’ They chased Jenny from address to address, with no luck, and the police became involved. Even my mother was contacted. Finally, Jenny and Donna were found and sent to Parkside by the police – the next day, she apologised, but it was too late. A fostering application was made and a woman called Mrs Head was introduced as someone who could help out. ‘Jenny was not happy with the placement as Mrs Head is forthright and set ground rules.’

  When you wrote wishes for your future, Jenny, you said: ‘I would like to work with children or just have a nice, steady job at something I’m good at. I try to see my future but I can’t think of nothing [sic] as it scares me. I can see I will always be worried about money for things and will probably struggle through my life.’ You knew, didn’t you? You knew that you had been written off, and that you didn’t stand a chance. Donna should have been your legacy, but, instead, your life was a testament to those who had betrayed you since the day you were born. I still have this overwhelming urge to reach into our picture and drag you out – to save you. The truth is, looking back, piecing it all together, I wonder if you saved me, Jenny? I wonder if this whole process of working out what happened to you has been the making of me? Maybe I’m your legacy; maybe that’s what the fates have decided for us.

  A report at that time also stated:

  …it is only when she is under pressure that she reverts back to her old habit of snapping or flying off the handle. Jenny is trying very hard to come to terms with the fact that no matter what she does or how hard she tries, it will not please her mother. She is showing great insight into this problem and as she matures, hopefully it might resolve itself.

  She is coming to terms with the fact that her family do not want anything to do with her. It does seem a tragedy that Jennifer has this attitude and that she has had to spend the majority of her life in care. It can be said (‘CAN IT?’ I have written at the side) that she has coped with this rejection very well indeed.

  In my life, in conjunction with all of this, Dad left when I was sixteen. He just disappeared one day, so my abuse stopped; but the after-effects didn’t. His departure was so sudden but, like a great deal of what went on in our childhood, I wasn’t privy to what was going on in my parents’ relationship. I have never found any reason to explain his actions; nothing that’s added up over the years. He just left. Mum seemed to step up her control of me when he went – and she was also building up the campaign to get Donna that had been going on since Jenny gave birth to her. In January 1987 she applied for custodianship of Donna, which was granted after Jenny signed all of the forms.

  There seem to have been lots of continuing threats and ‘suggestions’ from Mum while she had Donna, and the files are stark again at this point, and the summary of Jenny’s life devoid of much humanity:

  Jenny Yeo – Homemaker File

  She has been in care since the age of 2 years.

  At 16 years she became pregnant; returned to live with her parents, who then had care of Donna (14.3.86), until March 1987.

  9.3.87 a decision was made to reunite Jenny with her baby and transfer them both to Clumber Lodge in Formby for a period of assessment.

  9.4.87 Jenny showed a lot of affection and concern towards Donna.

  After Jenny requested care of Donna a short assessment period at Clumber Lodge, Formby, was arranged from March to June 1987, as she had no experience in child-rearing. Jenny obtained a tenancy from Forum Housing, however due to difficulties with other residents, she was admitted to Mrs Head, foster-parent on 30 September 1987.

  Behind all of this, the battle lines were being drawn once again, between Jenny and Mum, the social services, the care team – but, this time, there was a new player in the game. Drugs were taking their toll on Jenny, and things would never be the same again. I feel so odd writing about this, because I want to be respectful to my sister. I have mentioned the files commenting about her hanging around with lads who took drugs, but it was clear by this point that she was using them a lot too. She had started to take cannabis when she was around sixteen or seventeen, I think, just when the social workers suspected she was being led astray, and, almost inevitably, this led to harder drugs until finally she became hooked on heroin.

  Jenny never ever talked about her drug use in detail to me, only being adamant that she never injected, she smoked heroin instead. As time went on, if I am being very honest (and it breaks my heart to write this), she did look like a drug addict. She was very thin and she had the ‘look’; you learn to recognise it. Jenny never stole to feed her habit – I guess it’s kind of mixed up but she was proud of that, she was proud that she had that boundary. Even when she was in the grip of it, she kept a nice house with lots of ornaments around and lots of pictures on the walls; she even had a handmade piece of glass wall art that her partner made of the two of them with their names on and love hearts. Her garden was beautifully tidy and she was very proud of it.

  Jenny always looked clean and tidy in herself, but that ‘look’ was obvious – you could just tell. I know she tried her very best to lead a normal life for her and for Donna, taking her to the Wirral Show every year, enjoying the rides and stalls and joining in with the thousands of people just chilling out for the afternoon. She didn’t ask for much – and she never expected an amazing life. She just wanted to get by; but even that was going to prove to be a pipe dream.

  CHAPTER 6

  YOUR BABY, MY BABY

  1987

  I remember how it all started.

  ‘This is Graham,’ Mum said. ‘He wants to take you out.’

  She knew I’d never say no.

  So, when my mother decided it was time for me to ‘meet’ someone, that was that. I’m shocked when this memory hits me again, because I can hear her voice and I can see her smirking as she tells me what to do.

  It was abusive from the start and it now feels like he took over where Dad left off. I knew I didn’t love him but it would take nine years to get out. I didn’t love Graham but I couldn’t say no to him, or to anyone for that matter. I was only sixteen. I just assumed he’d expect sex and I couldn’t say no, as I didn’t know what that meant; it had never worked for me before. I still think I have no right to say no, actually.

  Graham later told me that Mum said to him, ‘You’ll take my daughter out but she’s a spoilt little bitch who’ll do anything to get her own way, so watch yourself.’ I just did what she did, did what he said. In retrospect, I think he had probably heard the way Mum spoke about me – maybe he liked that I was so young; he definitely liked that I was so malleable. He started off babysitting, but within three weeks he had told me, ‘This is what will happen.’ And it did. Sex was just there, in an instant – not love, not romance, just sex. He assumed I was a virgin and that he was my first. What he didn’t know was that it was all a trigger for me. I would see Dad’s face every time. I thought I’d be with him always and assumed this was my life now. Not long after we met, the mind games began. He would call me a slag, or be horrible to me because I was obsessive about cleaning.

  I got pregnant very quickly. I had an easy nine months in a health sense. Mum told me antenatal classes were a waste of time and that she would be with me at the birth, not Graham. Did I argue? What do you think? I managed on gas and air, an eight-hour labour without a single sound. I was used to being quiet when I was in pain. But, this time, there was a reason for it – this time, I was getting my baby.

  He was 9lbs 6oz.

  My baby.

  My little boy.

  My Karl.

  I was tiny, so I have no idea how I managed to have such a big lad, but I was smitten with him from the moment I set eyes on him. I’d never thought I’d be a mum, never thought I’d have such normality.

  When Mum left the hospital and I was alone with Karl, I looked into his little glass cot and was filled with love. I looked at him all night, feeling that it was the first time my body had worked properly and the first time I had been any sort of human being.
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  ‘I’m going to love you so much,’ I kept telling him. And I did. He had beautiful clear skin, with massive eyes, and he was such a good baby. I held his hand all day as I whispered to him about my love, about how I would never hurt him, about how we would be there for each other. My body had done something good and my baby had made me a better person. I’d never make him feel unloved.

  I had lots of stitches, and Mum wouldn’t help me, but I didn’t care. When I got home, I sang to him all the time. I told him stories. I loved night feeds. I tried to breastfeed but Mum said, ‘You can’t do that when people are in my house, it’s disgusting.’

  I was giddy with love. Karl was my world and I never got tired, not of looking after him, not of the sleepless nights. He was actually a very good baby, although my mother always said otherwise. ‘Does he ever stop fucking crying?’ she’d ask, as I’d look at my snuggled-up little bundle of joy and wonder what in the world she was talking about. This was a baby who needed to be woken to be fed, he was so lazy! She criticised everything I was doing. I was feeding him wrong, I was holding him wrong, I was making a rod for my own back, I was spoiling him. I was happy to ‘spoil’ him, not that I think you can ‘spoil’ babies anyway. I think she meant I was loving him in the way a woman should love her children.

  I spent all my time with Graham, Karl and Mum. Graham did provide everything we needed, but I had to make sure that any money was kept away from my mother or she’d drink us into oblivion. I was still staying in a tiny room at home, with a single bed and a cot, which lasted for about three months after Karl was born. One day, Graham came into the living room with the baby as Mum walked past with a cup of tea. She went into another room, ignoring us, so I went to make a cuppa for Graham.