I knew a bit of what to expect at school from the stories that Wally had told me, but it was hardly enough to prepare me for the full-scale assault on my senses from every direction when I first went back out into the hustle and bustle of the real world. I had spent three years virtually on my own, in a world that was largely silent and dark, and now I was out in the dazzling light of day, surrounded by crowds of kids all rushing around and jostling one another and laughing, with bells going off and teachers shouting out orders and books being thrown around. There were so many strange faces and so many new rules to learn in order to fit in and become part of it all. I must have looked like an odd, nervous little creature as I stepped through the school gates for the first time, with little idea what to expect. The kids all crowded up to me, curious to find out about the strange new boy in their midst.
‘Hi,’ they said, their faces all around me, staring, weighing me up, trying to judge me and work out whether I was going to make any difference to their lives. ‘What’s your name?’
‘He don’t speak,’ my brothers told them.
‘What do you mean, he don’t speak?’ They stepped back, regarding me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Kids don’t like anyone different or strange. I could see it wasn’t going to be easy for me to make any friends.
Each school morning the routine I had to follow was the same. My clothes would be neatly laid out for me at the bottom of the bed and I would try to get dressed quickly so I didn’t drip blood anywhere from where Larry and Barry had penetrated me in the night. Once I was dressed I had to sit back in the corner of the room, ‘the dirty corner’ as they all called it, and wait until they told me what to do next.
Mum would call me down when she was ready and I would be allowed two pieces of plain buttered bread and a drink of water. The bread was served to me in my dog bowl and the water in a plastic beaker with my name on it because I still wasn’t allowed to contaminate any of the other crockery that the rest of the family used. I didn’t mind too much because at least it was regular food and I didn’t feel so starved all the time as I had in the cellar. Larry and Barry would escort me to school, a chore they obviously resented enormously. I would walk five or six paces behind with my head down, staring at the pavement, lost in thoughts about Dad, unable to get him out of my mind. I would count the paving stones as I went to try to distract myself from the sound of his voice inside my head.
‘Hurry up, Joe,’ they would grumble bossily. ‘Stop dawdling. We’ll tell Mum if you don’t get a fucking move on.’
Thomas and I weren’t allowed to do PE at school because then we would have had to get undressed in front of other people, so Mum would send in sick notes asking for us to be exempted. With me she claimed it was because of my asthma, with Thomas it was because of his ‘hole in the heart’. Apparently he had had a hole when he was born, but it had closed up pretty quickly and never gave him any problems. She told the school it would be dangerous for him to do any physical exercise and the teachers chose to believe her. I was quite relieved she did that because I wouldn’t have wanted other boys asking questions about our scars and bruises. It didn’t occur to me that if the staff saw them it might alert someone to our plight, which might lead to us being rescued. No one had ever made any attempt to rescue us before and I knew Mum would always have a story ready to explain any marks that might have raised suspicions.
‘Oh, the boys are always fighting and hitting each other,’ she’d say if challenged. Or, ‘He fell downstairs because he was messing about, as usual.’
The other thing that worried me was that if other boys had asked us what really happened Thomas would have come right out with the reason for the marks because he was always more confident than me. I was already being teased enough without my new classmates finding out my whole family used me as a punch bag.
Even once I was at school every day, things still didn’t go smoothly at home with Mum. Once we were behind closed doors and drawn curtains she continued to rule the family in the same violent way she always had. It didn’t matter if I was going to school because I wasn’t able to talk and tell anyone any tales. Even if I had been able to I doubt she would have worried. She was always confident that she had intimidated me just as completely as she had intimidated the others. None of us would ever have dared to betray her for fear of the consequences and for fear of being told we were liars. We truly believed she was capable of killing us if we pushed her too far. If I annoyed her too much she would just make excuses to the school and keep me off, telling them I was ill, and would banish me back down to the cellar until her mood had brightened again.
Soon after the beginning of term she left me alone down there in my old cell for three whole days after I did something that offended her, without allowing anyone to come and see me or to bring me down any scraps. I knew how long it was because I watched the daylight coming and going three times through the holes in the airbrick. By the second day the hunger pains were unbearable and I curled myself up into a ball to try to squeeze them away, rocking back and forth and telling myself to imagine I had just eaten an apple, trying to fool my stomach into believing it was full. I had finished the bottle of water she had left me with by the second night and I think I must have been passing in and out of consciousness by then. I tried eating little bits of plastic from the bottle to ease the hunger pains, but it just made them worse.
On the third day Mum went off to visit her mother. I heard her footsteps going down the path outside the airbrick but I didn’t actually have the strength to lift my head in order to watch her shadow pass. A while later I heard someone coming down the stairs and unlocking the door.
‘Here, boy,’ Amani said. He always called me boy, never actually using my name. ‘I’ve made you a cup of tea and some toast.’
I didn’t believe he was being genuine for a second. I was certain he was playing some new sort of mind game with me. He had probably put something on the toast that would make me sick, or had spat into the tea or worse. But at the same time I was so hungry I didn’t want to pass up the chance of food even if there was going to be some sort of horrible price to pay for it. I lay still, not able to find the strength to sit up. I could smell the warm toast and it made my saliva glands work, making my jaw ache painfully with anticipation. Amani crouched down beside me, tore a piece of crust off one of the slices and held it against my lips. I was frightened that it might be poisoned but I still couldn’t resist parting my lips and letting him push the toast in. He was acting so out of character I didn’t know what to expect next.
‘Honestly, boy,’ he said gently. ‘It’s okay, you can eat it. It’ll make you feel better.’
I closed my eyes and opened my mouth for more, expecting to receive a punch or a stamp on the head as I chewed, but nothing happened and the toast tasted good. After a few moments I opened my eyes and saw that he was just sitting watching me, waiting for me to sit up and take a sip of the tea he had brought me.
‘You look great, boy,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been acting so bad to you. It’s your mother you know. She tells me to do these things. She brings out the worst in me.’
I flinched as he rubbed the top of my head with the palm of his giant hand and gave a forced smile. I could believe that he thought he was telling the truth, but I didn’t think Mum had to work too hard to get him to do any of the things he did to me. I wanted to win him over by showing how humble I was in his presence, as if he was a god or something, but I’m sure my eyes must still have shown how frightened I felt. He went on trying to reassure me, trying to be friendly. He told me to come upstairs with him and helped me up the steps and into the house. He took me into Mum’s good lounge, sitting me down on the settee even though I was still dirty from the floor of the cellar. I perched right on the edge of the cushions, frightened I might leave a mark that she would see and punish me for when she came back.
‘I’ll cook you something nice later,’ Amani was saying. ‘Be careful not to spill that tea on
your mother’s furniture.’
The phone went and I could tell from his tone when he picked it up that he was speaking to Mum. ‘No, love,’ he reassured her. ‘He’s alive and well. I gave him some toast and tea and he looks good as new.’
Had she believed that she might finally have killed me? Was that why she’d gone out and sent Amani down to check up on me?
‘When’s he coming?’ Amani was asking. ‘Fifteen minutes? Okay … No, I’m sure he’s going to be a good boy now.’
He was looking back at me as he spoke, as if he was issuing a warning, and I was even more sure that he was being nice to me for a reason, that he had something planned for me.
‘Come with me,’ he said once he’d hung up the phone and we headed upstairs to the bedroom, my heart sinking at the thought of what he might do to me now. I stayed a few paces behind in case he turned and kicked me back down the stairs, but he was still making out he wanted to be nice to me, as if we were allies in some way. In the bedroom he took out some of my school uniform and told me to put it on. I didn’t understand why because I wasn’t going to school that day, but I obeyed him anyway. Once I was dressed he took me through to Mum’s room.
‘Sit on the bed,’ he instructed and I obeyed, terrified that she would come back unexpectedly and catch me in there, but too frightened of him to disobey for even a second.
Just then I heard someone knocking at the front door.
‘Stay there,’ he told me. ‘Don’t make a sound.’
I heard another man’s voice downstairs as Amani let him in. It sounded creepy as they mumbled and laughed together, obviously not wanting me to overhear what they were saying, as if they had some dodgy deal going. I sat waiting on the end of the bed. I heard footsteps on the stairs and the door opened. A stumpy-looking man with a fat stomach and thinning hair came in. His t-shirt was too short for him and his belly hung out beneath it over his belt. He was carrying a big black bag.
‘Hello, mate,’ he said. ‘My name is Douglas. I’m your friend. You can call me Uncle Douglas.’
I tried to look round him for Amani but I couldn’t see any sign of him.
‘Would you like a sweet?’ Douglas asked, pushing the door shut behind him. I nodded cautiously and he put some sort of jellybean into my hand, which I chewed and swallowed quickly in case he took it off me again. It tasted good, setting my saliva glands watering again.
‘Wow,’ he laughed at my eagerness. ‘You liked that, didn’t you?’
He gave me another one. I couldn’t understand why he was being so nice to me but I wasn’t going to pass up the chance of free sweets. He didn’t seem to be at all aggressive and I was starting to feel a little more at ease.
‘You don’t have to worry,’ he said. ‘I’m here to help you.’
Amani poked his head round the door at that moment and I wondered if he had heard and was going to beat the man up. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ Douglas replied. ‘He’s a nice lad.’
‘Okay then,’ Amani grinned, showing all his huge teeth. ‘I’ll leave you two alone to get to know each other better.’
So many different thoughts were going round in my head I couldn’t make any sense of them, or of what was going on. I sensed danger but couldn’t see exactly where it was coming from. Mum could be nice like this sometimes, and then turn nasty again in a split second. Would Uncle Douglas be like that if I said the wrong thing or looked at him in the wrong way?
‘Wow, you are such a fine boy,’ Douglas was saying and his words made me feel proud. I wasn’t used to compliments. ‘Shall we play a fun game?’
It had been a long time since I’d had someone take so much interest in me or be that nice. No one had ever suggested playing a game with me since the day Dad died. In fact they had pretty much forbidden me from even thinking of doing such a thing. Douglas was sitting on the bed too and started to tickle me. Then he gave me another sweet. He smelled bad when he got close, a mixture of stale sweat, bad breath and unwashed clothes, but I was used to unpleasant smells. I can’t have smelled that fresh myself after three days in the cellar. Reaching into his bag he took out a camera.
‘Can I take some pictures of you to show to my wife?’ he asked. ‘Is that okay with you?’
I nodded and he gave me another sweet. I rather liked the idea of someone taking my picture. Dad used to do it when he was alive, because he was proud of me and wanted to show my picture off to other people.
‘Lie on the bed then,’ he said.
I did what he told me, wondering if perhaps he was going to adopt me and that was why he had to show a picture to his wife. I liked that idea. Anything to get away from Mum.
‘It’s hot in here, why don’t you take off your jumper?’ He helped me pull it over my head and undid a few of my shirt buttons for me. ‘That’s better,’ he said, giving me another sweet.
‘Let’s see if you can take your shirt and trousers off by the time I count to ten,’ he said next. ‘If you can, I’ll give you some more sweets.’
I had spent so many years just in my pants that I thought nothing of it. The sweets, on top of the toast and tea, were making me feel quite good. He told me to bounce on the bed for some more pictures and I did as he suggested, feeling exhilarated. I hadn’t had so much fun for years.
‘Just take your pants off,’ he said casually, ‘and lie back down on the bed.’
It was as if someone had just switched off all the fun and every alarm bell in my brain was ringing at once. I sat very still and shook my head. This was the sort of thing Mum and Amani and Larry and Barry would make me do. I wanted to go on having fun. I didn’t want to be hurt.
‘Don’t be shy,’ he laughed as he saw me hesitate, as if I was just being silly. ‘It’s just for fun.’
I gave another shake of my head.
‘Don’t be naughty,’ he warned and there was a slight edge of menace in his voice, which made me shiver and want to cry. ‘Be a good boy, otherwise I’ll have to call your daddy.’
I gave another shake of the head and suddenly a slap landed on my face so hard that it knocked me sideways. He raised his hand to strike again but I had already jumped up and sunk my teeth into the side of his palm. I dug them in deeper and deeper, just as I had with the welfare worker. I was able to taste the blood, keeping my jaw locked, frightened of what would happen once I let go. Douglas gave a shout of pain and Amani came running in and punched me so hard on the side of my head that my jaw sprang open and Douglas was able to leap back, flapping his hand around in the air. Amani flew into the most terrible rage I had ever seen him in and ripped his belt out of its loops, hitting me over and over again with it while Douglas held me down on the bed to stop me from trying to escape. Douglas then sat on my head, forcing my face into the mattress. I couldn’t move or protect myself as both of them raped me in turn. It was the first time I had been abused by anyone outside the family. They did disgusting things to me that I had never had done before, things that hurt me very badly, and they took photographs of one another with Douglas’s camera as they did them.
When they had finally finished with me, Amani dragged me downstairs by the hair, all the way to the cellar, just as Mum would have done. I lost my footing several times on the stairs but he never lost his grip.
‘Just can’t do what you are fucking told, can you, boy?’ he screamed. ‘You’ll learn one of these days.’
With one final kick he propelled me into the cell, leaving me naked and bleeding on the concrete floor. As my strength returned over the following hours I managed to crawl onto the mattress and a terrible rage grew inside me, fed by the hunger that the toast and sweets had only temporarily subdued. I tried to scream in order to get the anger out, but my throat still wouldn’t allow it. It was as if everything was locked inside my head and I was afraid I was falling apart. I eventually pulled myself to my feet and started kicking the door with my heels, louder and louder, like a mad caged animal. My heart was pounding and then Amani
exploded back through the door. He had a cigar clenched between his teeth.
‘You little bastard! You think you’re clever, don’t you?’
I lashed out at him with my fists, punching his belly as hard as I could, but he just stood there and laughed at my puny efforts. Eventually tiring of the sport he grabbed my throat and lifted me up. I could feel the heat of his cigar on my face and I thought he was going to burn my eyes out. He blew a cloud of smoke at me and the cigar fell on the floor.
‘Now look what you’ve made me do!’
I could hardly breathe and I was certain I was going to die when he threw me across the room as if I weighed nothing. My back slammed against the wall, knocking the wind out of me. I fell onto the mattress, gasping for breath and watched as he walked across the cell towards me, unzipping his trousers. He pulled out his willy and before I could duck out of the way, he peed all over my face.
‘Thirsty, are you?’ he laughed as I struggled to breathe without letting any of it get into my mouth. ‘Why didn’t you just ask for a drink?’
When he’d finished he made a gargling noise in his throat and then spat into my face before walking to the door.
‘If you need anything else,’ he said, ‘just ring,’ and he laughed, very pleased with his own joke.
Picking his cigar up off the floor he clamped it back into his mouth and left, locking the door behind him and turning out the light. I lay in the dark trying to take in what had just happened to me and to work out what it might mean for the future.
Chapter Ten
Being Groomed
After the introduction to Uncle Douglas, Amani brought several more men down to my cell to have sex with me. They usually came at weekends or during school holidays, but sometimes I was kept off school on a weekday and taken down to the cellar and I would know exactly what was in store for me.
Joe Peters Page 10
