by Donna Ford
Claire and I have had to work through many issues regarding this, coupled with the fact that my second husband also felt threatened by the link between Claire and myself. He tried at all opportunities to divide and separate us, but he could never break the bond that we had established many years before. It is my belief that if you make this bond well with your children in the early years of their lives – if you nurture them, play with them and love them – no-one can ever change that.
Claire is a wise and clever young woman. She could see through my second husband long before I did, but she stuck it out and supported me. When I finally saw for myself the damage and destruction he was trying to create – when I finally plucked up the courage to leave him – it was Claire who was there to see me through it all. Claire has good values; she is headstrong and focused; she is a respectful, loving daughter, a wonderful friend, and – most importantly – she is her own person.
And then there is my baby. Saoirse was born in December 1996, and, as I always say to her, she was the finest, most wonderful Christmas gift I have ever had. I met Chris, her father, before I travelled to South Africa. I liked him from the start as he was a kind and gentle person, the type of man who is everyone's friend. When I returned from my travels, we hit it off, started dating and within no time we were living together. We both needed someone and just fell into each other's lives. Within a matter of months I was pregnant. I couldn't believe it as I was usually so careful about taking precautions, and I wouldn't generally just fall into a relationship so quickly, but I did this time. When I knew I was going to have a baby I was genuinely delighted. For some reason it seemed right.
My children knew Chris. They had always liked him and his gentle ways. Everything just fell into place, and the result was Saoirse. Her name is the Irish Gaelic for 'freedom'. When she arrived, she was like an angel coming into our lives. She was white blonde from the moment she was born, and still has lovely blonde hair and the bluest eyes. Saoirse is such a gentle, loving girl, with the most beautiful singing voice. She is artistic, insightful and very clever. We all fell in love with her from the moment we saw her. Claire was like a little mum to her and Paul just loved to show her the world.
Chris and I tried to make our relationship work, but, sadly, it didn't. However, he is a wonderful father to Saoirse and remains a respected friend to us all. I would say that Saoirse is the child who has been with me the most on my journey into my past, albeit without her actually knowing. She was only five years old when I gave my statement to the police regarding my stepmother, the same age as I was when I returned to live with my father and Helen. That was very difficult. I looked at my little girl every day as I went through the memories of what had happened to me, and I wondered, as I saw her innocence, how any adult could actually want to damage such purity. I had to keep myself in check all of the time. I had to make sure I didn't overcompensate for my pain and possibly destroy her childhood in the process. I wanted to protect her but didn't want to overprotect her. These issues weren't there in Paul and Claire's childhood because the past then was buried, but every day as I was faced with a new memory, a new pain, it was very difficult to see this child and not think of myself at that age.
I don't know how but I managed to keep it from her. She knew, as my older children did, that something was going on, and I knew I had to give her an explanation. The only way I felt I could explain it to her was by telling her the story of Snow White – I was Snow White and Helen was the evil stepmother. When I finally went to court, I told her that the man (the judge) was going to tell Helen that she had been very bad and that she had to say sorry. With this explanation I was able to simplify and explain in a way that she could understand.
Saoirse is 11 years old now and understands a little more than she did then, but it's not a topic that comes up very often – and I won't allow it to because that was my childhood, not hers. She has a normal, happy life with a Mum, Dad, sister and brother who love her, and a big extended family and many friends. She is a little girl growing and developing in a world far from mine. She is without fear and surrounded by love. I can give her what I never had, and I am so very thankful for that.
Chapter Twenty-eight
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN . . .
MY SECOND MARRIAGE WAS IN stark contrast to my relationship with, and wedding to, Robert. I met Ian on Saturday 8 July 2001. I was at home in North Berwick, sitting in my living room and having a few laughs with my girls as we got ready to watch Blind Date. It was a weekend tradition with us, and we all loved spending that time together, messing about and enjoying each other's company.
The phone rang and a friend said that I should come round to her house as she had someone else there and she thought we'd get along well. I took the girls with me and there he was. Ian. I wasn't deliberately looking for a man; I'd been on my own for a while, with a few unimportant dates here and there. My first impression of Ian, however, was a good one. He was charming and friendly, and we hit it off immediately. Later, he offered to walk us home. He came in, we had a cup of coffee and chatted, and he said he'd like to see me again. I was due to have friends over to visit on the Sunday afternoon and suggested that Ian come along too.
It wasn't exactly a whirlwind relationship, but he was around quite a lot over the next few weeks. Ian was very different from the men I was usually attracted to – he was a lot bigger and less well educated than my previous partners. I think that my attraction to him was entirely physical, and he did have a strong sexual presence. However, the exact same attributes that drew me to him would bring about the downfall of our relationship before long.
It was unusual for me to feel this way. I had never been able to have one-night stands, always needing to feel a connection with a man – usually on some level of intelligence – before I could even contemplate a physical bond. With Ian, I wanted to have the emotional link so that the sexual relationship would flow naturally, but the attraction was so immediate for me that I thought I could forgo my usual pattern this time.
At the time when we met, I was really busy with work. I had taken on a huge job, gutting and renovating the interior of a house in Edinburgh for a very successful music business player. I adored the planning, the liaising with craftsmen and builders, the detailed artistic redevelopment of something beautiful and challenging. I already felt successful and happy. I had my children and my career, and I hadn't looked at my past for a long time.
All that changed without any warning.
One day, a few months after I had met Ian, the doorbell rang when I was at home with Paul, Claire and Saoirse. I didn't think about who it could be, and when I opened the door to reveal two police officers, I still didn't connect their presence with anything to do with me. I asked them in – a woman and a man – and they said that they had a few questions for me. I confirmed my name and my date of birth, and then everything started swimming in my head. The police officers said that they had been contacted by my halfbrother who wanted to prosecute Helen Ford, our stepmother, for what she had done to us all those years ago. They said that they had Adrian's statement, but would like to ask me whether I would also be willing to make one so that the Procurator Fiscal could determine whether the case should proceed.
I was in shock.
My past – which I had tried to stop overwhelming my life since as far back as I could remember – was sitting in front of me. The two officers, who were from the Family Protection Unit of Lothian and Borders Police, were really nice. They told me that there was no rush, that I shouldn't feel forced into anything, and that I should take as much time as I needed before coming to a decision. They sat with me for a while as I tried to take it in, but I really just wanted them to leave so that I could begin to process what they had brought with them.
When they finally did go, saying that they would be in touch again and giving me their contact details, I was stunned. Stunned and nauseous. I wanted to be sick; I wanted to get this out of me – but something kept niggling in the corners o
f my mind. I knew what they had said; I understood what my options were; but there was something else that was almost taking shape. What was it?
Finally, it came to me.
This meant that people were willing to listen to me. They would listen to my stories of what she had done to me – what they had all done to me – and they would believe me. They had looked for me and they had found me, and now it was up to me to decide whether I wanted to take this to the next stage.
I know for a fact that if that knock on the door had never happened – or even if it hadn't happened then – that Ian and I would never had stayed together for any length of time, never mind get married to each other. When I next saw him I told him about the police visit, but gave him as few details as possible. I hadn't mentioned this stuff to him before as I never anticipated needing to. I couldn't go into details; I simply said that my halfbrother had accused our stepmother of cruelty when we were children, and that the police had visited to see if I would consider making a supporting statement. I didn't really feel able to say much more as I'd only known Ian since that summer, and this wasn't material I spoke about casually.
The day after the police visited, I went to see my very close friend, Christine, who also lived in North Berwick. Since the day I met her, Christine has been my confidante, my guide and my support. It was a huge thing for me to feel this way about her – I had been abandoned by my mother and the next important female in my life was my abuser, and yet I had always still been able to trust women. Christine had proved to me that I was right to retain that trust, and she kept on giving me help whenever I needed it. She does to this day.
Christine played devil's advocate and said things I needed to hear. She asked how I would feel if I gave a statement but the Procurator Fiscal decided not to prosecute. She asked how I would feel if I was torn to shreds while testifying. She asked how I would feel seeing Helen Ford again. And she asked how I would cope if she was found 'not guilty'. This was all important. She grounded me, but in a supportive way without ever making me feel that she was putting her point of view on everything.
We sat at her kitchen table, constantly drinking cups of tea, and I told her more than I'd ever told anyone before. Places I had never gone were pulled out that day and I wept continuously as I looked back on the child I had been. In the past, I had always just told people that I'd never had a happy childhood and I didn't have any family, and left it at that. With Christine, I faced those stories head-on. I told her what the reality had been. She suggested that I needed to put myself first and think what all of this might do to me. She was right in many ways – sometimes the past is best left there – but she also managed to make me feel empowered by showing me that I did have choices.
I reflected on everything Christine and I had discussed, but I also had to consider my relationship with Ian. His approach was very different from hers.
He wouldn't let it go.
He wanted to know everything, every little detail. What had Helen done to me? What had those men done to me? Where? How often? How bad was it? How did I feel?
It was relentless and he broke me down with it every time we saw each other.
As I tried to decide whether I wanted to give a statement and be part of a court case, Ian kept telling me over and over again what I should do, what I had to do, what I must do, what I needed to do. I felt pressurised every time we spoke about it – and every time we met, we did speak about it because he always wanted to.
When I had been introduced to him, I was independent, selfsufficient and strong. I was a single parent trying to keep my head above water financially, but I was managing. Would I have made the decision to go ahead with the police questioning if I hadn't met Ian? I don't know – I think I would.
Ian was at my house constantly. He lived in a grotty bedsit – in fact, he came to me with nothing at a time when I was in shock. I remember thinking that my head would actually explode, but I was also exhilarated that I might finally get some closure on this period of my life which still haunted me when it could. It was a surreal time as I was being put back into a place I hadn't visited for almost 20 years, not since the death of my father. I had these extreme emotions going on in my head but I also had a normal life to cope with at the same time. I felt that Ian and I were getting on, even though the warning signs were already there, but I also remember very clearly the feeling that things were spiralling out of my control.
After about six months, I knew that I had to do something about the potential court case. The memories that had been triggered had made me very weak. Ian had decided to move in with me, convincing me that it was the right thing to do. I had started feeling incredibly insecure, and had pulled out of the house restoration job as what I was going through was crippling me.
I was beginning to get feelings that were familiar, but I didn't know what they were. I had palpitations and anxiety attacks, and I woke every morning feeling sick. I was right back where I was terrified of going – the place I had avoided for years – and it could only get worse.
Chapter Twenty-nine
FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE
IAN'S RESPONSE TO ALL OF THIS?
He asked me to marry him.
And I said that I would. I know now that I married him for all the wrong reasons. I was desperately seeking security. My world had been turned upside down with the invasion into my past, and I clung to the only person around who seemed to offer me some stability. It would be so easy at this point to blame the disaster of this relationship entirely on him, but I was an adult and I made a conscious decision to become so involved with him that marriage became an option.
By the time I met Ian, Robert and I had been separated for 11 years, yet we were still legally married as neither of us had pursued a divorce. I continued to use his name – to be honest, I had never really wanted to divorce him. I suppose, subconsciously, I always hoped that we would get back together.
I'll be upfront and admit that I really don't have anything nice to say about Ian now that we are apart. He hurt me and scared my children, but I have since tried to make sense of why I allowed him into my life in the first place. I had spent all of my adult life trying to avoid people who would cause me pain and anguish or who would in any way threaten my children, yet here I was not only getting involved with someone who was aggressive and controlling, I had taken it a step further and chosen to marry him. I was clinging to something I thought I was being offered; I didn't want to be on my own at this time; but I still feel so guilty that I chose this man.
He said that we had to move out of the beautiful North Berwick house, and he was really insistent about it. He promised me so much. He said that a new house in which we could start together would be so much better – better for him as it would be in his name and cost half as much as the one I was renting. And it would be further away from Christine. He found us a cottage in Dirleton, north of where I had been living, and it was horrific. The place was a complete mess and I had to gut it.
One day I went there on my own to try and get a room organised for Saoirse. I spent all day in my element, cleaning and stripping it before painting murals on the wall and turning it into a wonderland for my little girl who was only five at the time. It was beautiful and I was really proud to be channelling myself into something positive and loving like that. That night, I took Ian up to see it. I held his hand as we went in and got him to close his eyes so that it would all be a surprise. We walked down the corridor and when we got there, I peeled his hands away from his eyes to show him my handiwork.
He went ballistic.
'You stupid bitch!' he shouted at me. 'What the fuck did you do that for? You can't paint – you've made a fucking mess of the place! How stupid, just how stupid can a person be?' he shouted at me over and over again. Ian was a big man, much, much bigger than me, and as he hollered, he towered over me, terrifying me with his physical presence.
I'd never heard him shout before but I should have heard something else – alarm bells.
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I was so upset, and he quickly became apologetic in an overthetop way, saying that he was sure I wouldn't marry him now and that he had ruined everything. All I saw was this big man in tears, saying that he was sorry over and over again.
I fell for it.
Another problem was that Ian had a big issue with my older children, Paul and Claire. He had a number of sons with his exwives and partners. In fact, he was even a granddad by this time. Nevertheless, he saw fit to tell me how to raise mine. I am enormously proud of my children and always have been. They are good, kind, generous, hardworking people with strong values and a horror of even the thought of any kind of violence, given that I never subjected them to it at any point of their young lives, but Ian was obsessed with telling me that I needed to discipline them. I don't know why, because they never did anything wrong (not that I would have hit them if they had), but he went on and on about it, saying that I was too soft, always trying to drive a wedge between us. I'd never smacked my kids, but one day he slapped Paul, hard, right across the face in front of the others and I saw the looks pass between them. They hated it. They hated him. And I couldn't do anything; I was so scared of him.
