What Daddy Did

by Ford, Donna

  I felt powerless because of where I was at. I was going through the motions. I started feeling about Ian the way I felt about Helen. The minute I started having flashbacks, I went off sex completely, and I couldn't stand the feeling of vulnerability when I was naked. He loved having parties, which clearly brought back horrible emotions for me. They were never normal, happy events – they had too much drinking, too much arguing, too much dope. For the first time I had let my barriers down and this was how I had been rewarded.

  Ian never really tried to compensate for the awful times. Even on special, symbolic occasions, he didn't make the effort. I don't believe that you need to throw a lot of cash about to make things nice, but it doesn't take much to make someone feel special. For most of my children's lives, I've been skint, yet I've always taken the time and made the effort to make things wonderful for them. Even with Ian, I tried to make things fantastic. I painted his guitar case with a beautiful Celtic design; I bought him a bodhrán and painted that too. I looked after him, cooking and cleaning for him, and I listened to him. I spent money on clothes and holidays for him and, most importantly, I was always there, always there for him.

  It wasn't reciprocated. He took all the words that I had told him hurt me so badly when Helen had used them, and he repeated them over and over again. I couldn't work by this time as I was so incapacitated by the stress and anxiety involved in deciding to co-operate with the police, and he threw that at me whenever he could.

  There was always an agenda with Ian. To him, everything was always because of one of my 'problems'.

  So, I did it.

  I married him.

  I know that I was vulnerable. I know now that the warning signs were all there, yet I continued the relationship. I know so much now that it's over.

  I would spend time listening to his stories of how bad his life had been, and how people had been so horrible to him. I really, really believed I could change him, like so many women believe they can change so many men. When he said he loved me I believed him, even though there were many incidents of him being involved with other women while we were together, before and after we married. I believed him when he said he was sorry after he had terrified me with his aggression and bullying. I was spiralling into my past and I needed love, support and protection more than at any other time in my adult life, yet here I was faced with a man who offered me the exact opposite. As I've said, I misread all the signals and I chose to marry him.

  I was fed up of relationships not working. I didn't want to be on my own any longer, and I did feel a link to him at the start. But this wedding? This wedding would be so very different from my first and I could feel my heart breaking from the start.

  On the night before the wedding, I stayed at the home of my dear friend Christine and her husband, Stuart. We got married on the August bank holiday in 2002. That suited Ian as it meant all of his English friends could be there. I was late. Thirty minutes before it was due to start, I still hadn't done my hair and I was sewing my dress together. Christine and Stuart had tried to make it special for me. Stuart wrote me a beautiful letter and drove me there; Christine was by my side the whole time, even though she had previously warned me that Ian would never change.

  We got married in the garden of a pub in Dunbar that had been Ian's local, and everything was done on a very tight budget. I designed and made my own dress; and we had mince and potatoes for our meal with a grand dessert of spotted dick and custard. We went home on the coach back to North Berwick with all the people who came to the wedding, and then we went back to the house we were living in. I had a very heavy heart that day because I knew instinctively it was all wrong, but by then I'd gone too far down the road to turn around. Unlike the happiness and joy of my first wedding, I was miserable.

  Christine had offered to look after the children for me so that Ian and I could get a bit of a honeymoon. The day after the wedding, however, I was incapacitated by a terrible virus. I lost my voice and was too ill to even move.

  We were together but there was no romance, no wonderful moments for me to recall later, and Ian was angry with me all the time because sex was the last thing on my mind. All the time that I was with him, he never once took me out for a nice meal or a romantic date. I let him become part of my life and my children's lives, and he stamped on all of it.

  It would be so easy to blame what I was going through for the troubles we had throughout this relationship. However, when I had later dealt with most of my past and was coming out the other side, I devoted a great deal of time and energy into trying to resolve what Ian called my 'issues'. I attended six sessions at Relate where I spoke at length about what we had been going through, and I accepted that some of this may have been directly related to my past – but I knew also that a great deal of it had to do with the person he was. On the seventh session, Ian came along to allow me to face him in a safe environment but it was disastrous. Neither of us went back to Relate. There was no point. I just needed to get out.

  Chapter Thirty

  ESCAPE

  LEAVING IAN WASN'T EASY.

  I had often thought about it but it always seemed such an enormous task. I moved with him to his home town 300 miles away from Edinburgh, thinking that if we got away from everything, we might have a chance to repair our damaged relationship. I also thought that the move might give him a chance to develop bonds with the sons he'd had with other women, and that this might make him more receptive to my children. In reality, I ended up exactly where he wanted me – isolated and, to begin with, without a single friend to call on. I kept trying to make it work between us, although my heart was always heavy and I didn't trust him. Ironically, the final catalyst for our split came about through Ian's own doing.

  I treated myself to a holiday to India to meet up with my niece Hannah. She'd gone there for a six-week trip and had asked me to join her. I hadn't been on holiday on my own in many years and, after all I'd been through, I decided to allow myself this time out. I thought that if I had some time away from Ian, I might come back refreshed, and this would give us a good starting point from which to move forward. My friend Saritha looked after Saoirse for me for the two weeks, and I had a wonderful time. We travelled from Delhi to Goa then to Mumbai, down to Rajasthan, up to Agra to see the Taj Mahal then back to Delhi where we spent the last few days. On my way home I was absolutely elated, and so excited about seeing my girls. I had even missed Ian. I was optimistic, refreshed and the happiest I had been for a long time.

  My happiness was soon shattered. After spending time with everyone, giving them the presents I'd bought and telling them all about my trip, I opened my mail. In among all the usual post there was a letter. On opening it, I discovered a Valentine's card addressed to someone else but in Ian's writing. It was signed by him and there was a love note inside. I knew of this person – this woman – from his past, and I knew that he had sent it to her; she, in turn, had seen the sense to send it to me.

  I was devastated. He vehemently denied it, immediately getting defensive and accusing people of trying to come between us. The only person who was coming between us was him. I couldn't speak to him. I was hurt and angry. I felt utterly betrayed yet again. Things were silent between us for days. He tried to reassure me but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just couldn't take any more. I knew I had to get out – I just didn't know how. I had to hatch a plan to get Ian out of my life.

  I suggested to him that he have a holiday visiting his sister in the States. I offered to pay for the trip, saying that since I had been on a break maybe he too would like one. I even suggested that it might give us time to think. He took me up on my offer. I confided in Claire and told her that I needed to get away from him. She was overjoyed that I had finally made the decision.

  That this was the right move was further confirmed when he blew a fuse one morning before his trip to America and flew into the most aggressive rage ever. I ran to tell Claire to keep out of the way as he was on the warpath. As he p
oured himself a huge measure of vodka, I stood by the phone threatening to call the police if he didn't calm down. He left – drunk, in his car. When we finally spoke that evening, once Saoirse was safely tucked up in bed, I was adamant with him that I wanted out. I don't think he believed me because he acted as if nothing had happened and nothing had been said. I just let it go because it was easier, and I knew that my plans to leave were still going to happen.

  A few days later, I dropped him off at the airport for his trip, and no sooner was he away than I headed for Edinburgh with the girls. I quickly found a flat for us, and then went back down south. Within two weeks we had packed up all our belongings, said our goodbyes to the couple of friends we did have there, and departed for my home city to start our lives over again without fear and aggression threatening us every day.

  The first few months after I returned were both good and bad. It was good because I was finally away from Ian and I felt free for the first time in ages. But I was also fearful that he would find us. He was constantly texting and phoning me until I changed my number. The stuff he said and alleged was just horrible – I don't think I'd realised how twisted he was until that moment.

  I was lost, too, because it had been a long time since I'd made my own decisions. I was hurting very badly, although not in the same way that I did when Robert and I split. I was hurting because I had made the decision to be with this man who had nearly destroyed not only me but my children too. I had given him so much but all he seemed to want was to control us and destroy the safe family unit I had created. With the loving support of my family – my children, nieces, nephew, sisters and brothers-in-law – and my very good friends, I have managed to come through it all. Now, two years down the line, I can honestly say I have turned a corner. I know it wasn't long before Ian got himself another partner who now lives with him in the house we once shared.

  I wake up alone. But feeling safe.

  Over the time since I have been away from Ian, I have questioned how I could have allowed myself to get into such a destructive relationship. I can't change the fact that it happened. What I can take from it is an enormous lesson, and I can be grateful that I had the courage and wherewithal to get away from him and his ways before he did any more damage. I haven't bottled it up and allowed it to damage me more; I have been allowed to talk about it and see it all clearly.

  It's not dark any more.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  A WORLD OUT THERE

  I LOVE TO TRAVEL. It's always been a priority for me to see as many countries as I can and to introduce my children to different worlds because it's an education as well as an opportunity to rest and relax. We've never had much money but I've always had belongings that I would easily sell to give us the opportunity to go and see other parts of the world. My children laugh now at the fact that they would arrive home from school and ask, 'Where's the sofa?' and I would reply, 'I sold it – but we're going on holiday!' Off we'd go somewhere hot where we could soak in the ambience and culture. There was a time in Crete when we ran out of money towards the end of our holiday. I went down to the promenade and did drawings of people so that we could enjoy our last few days there in style.

  As a result of this approach, we've seen parts of the world that some people only dream of. Some of these journeys have also been, for me, profoundly moving and almost spiritual times, and as an artist a wonderful opportunity to record the sights I've seen.

  In 1995, the year of Nelson Mandela's inauguration, I took Paul and Claire off to South Africa. I had a friend in North Berwick who came from there, and having visited with her the previous spring, I felt strongly that I wanted to spend more time in that beautiful, diverse country, and that my children should come along too. To fund it, I held an exhibition at Belhaven Brewery, who sponsored me and sold enough pieces to give us our tickets and enough money to live on for months. We headed off, full of excitement.

  We landed in Johannesburg and travelled by coach during the night to Cape Town. We stayed in the centre in Queen Victoria Straat, opposite the museum and the Botanic Gardens, through which you can reach the presidential home. The sights, sounds and colours of this amazing city were awe-inspiring, and we mixed with all races on our stay here.

  After some months, Paul and Claire returned on their own to live with their father and go back to school, while I stayed on to complete some work that had been commissioned. I had never been separated from my children for longer than a couple of weeks, so it was very traumatic to see them off at the airport. I thought my heart was going to break, and I truly wondered how I could survive for the few months that I'd be without them. However, I'd never before had an opportunity to follow my own path, and I selfishly allowed myself this one time.

  I moved out of Cape Town to a little place called Simon's Town. On nearby Boulders Beach, visitors have to share the sand with the jackass penguins, so-called because of their distinctive donkey-like call. I lived in an old farmhouse high on the hill in the south end of the town. Here I was able to draw and paint and find the peace and solitude I needed so badly. I'd hardly ever been on my own as an adult, basically because I was scared of being so. I'm sure this had much to do with spending so much time on my own as a child, locked up in my boxroom. Here in this wonderful environment, however, I was able to enjoy a peace I had never before known.

  I spent many hours outdoors studying the wildlife. I'd watch porcupines sauntering slowly across the fields until they were suddenly threatened by baboons with ferocious yellow teeth. For what seemed like hours, I'd stand watching the schools of porpoises chase the tuna in the Atlantic Ocean. Sometimes I would just walk and think, contemplating my life and the direction it should take next. I often thought about the past and what had gone on, but I never dreamed that one day I would be sitting here telling my story. I was happy enough to have been given this opportunity to spend some time so very far away from everything I'd known.

  The old Dutch-style farmhouse I lived in had white walls and an open porch with a little fenced garden. A couple of cows that belonged to the man in the next house would spend most of the day lolling in the garden. I would often sit there and draw them, but sometimes I would walk around the extensive grounds, past the old ruins which were at one time part of an even bigger, grander farmhouse building.

  One day, when I was walking through these grounds, I spotted a piece of paper at my feet. Picking up the folded and yellowing sheet, I discovered that it was a horoscope that had been written many years before. The writing was flowery and of another age, beautifully set out with pen and ink. It was written for someone born on 18 June 1913, not exactly the same date as my own birthday but a Gemini all the same. For me at that moment it was like a message sent from someone somewhere. I looked all around for other signs of life among the rubble and weeds in this area, but there was nothing. Why this letter should have been at my feet at this time in my solitude I will never know, but it was. I read the lines over and over again, and some of the words leapt out at me:

  In business life there is indication of change – many changes: such is your destiny, for your nature demands, subconsciously, a change of scenery. To travel is your lot – and if it is not possible to practically exercise this trait, then your reading should be arranged in order to preserve your personality whole – i.e. read books about travel . . .

  As I read on, I could almost hear Auntie Nellie talking to me in her school-marm Edinburgh accent:

  The golden rule is, of course, to do something about it – even if it is only a bus-ride.

  My rational-thinking adult self tells me that it is purely coincidence that I found this letter, but it was as if this small faded piece of paper was talking directly to me. Although the letter was long-winded at times and used old-fashioned language, it still spoke to me. As I read on, it became clear that it had been written by a man:

  It is a fact that several women have proved themselves better than men in certain branches, but I have noted that such people eventually '
de-feminise' themselves through repression of natural biological instincts.