INVISIBLE TEARS
Abigail Lawrence
At a time when six-year-old Abbie needs love and security, her mother goes to the hospital and never returns. Still distraught, Abbie is passed to whoever will have her. Her new step mother subjects her to unimaginable physical, sexual and psychological torture and delivers her to local paedophiles in the entertainment business. During her single minded pursuit of fame Abbie’s step mother stops at nothing, beating and prostituting her own children.
This is the story of Abbie's struggle to survive, the grim details of child abuse of the worst kind all told from the perspective of a little girl.
As a teenager Abbie is uncontrollable. A Modette during the 80's revival, she finds a love of scooters, rebellion and gang life on the wild side. Dulling her pain with alcohol, drugs and promiscuity at a very young age, Abbie loses control and becomes well known to the local police. Not one person can get through to her because she has no fear, no self respect, no morals or self worth. With nothing to lose, she throws herself into one battle after another, blood and guts brawling between the skin heads and the mods on the streets of London.
Her family eventually disowns her realizing they are unable to help. Abbie finds herself in the care of the Court until she is abandoned by children's homes and Social Services too. Alone, penniless and pregnant at the age of 16. Haunted by the secrets of her unspeakable past. Will anyone ever see her invisible tears?
Reviews for Invisible Tears
"Wow. That's the one word I can think of right now, right this minute, to describe this book. It's not a light book at all. It's not a beautiful book. It's heart wrenching. It WILL bring tears to your eyes. It WILL make you stop and think. It will move you like no other book will move you."
Readersfavorite.com
"This story, told through the eyes of a child is both shocking and spellbinding. The writing voice of Abigail Lawrence is so real that it is impossible to put this book down... I have to say this is by far the most gripping memoir I have ever read. Five stars!"
Steve Ward, Author
About the Author
Abigail Lawrence is 44 years old. She lives on her farm with her husband and the beautiful young horses which are her passion. She is married and has been with her husband since they were 16yrs old. They went to school together and now have 2 daughters, aged 27 and 23, and a new grandchild.
Abigail did not do very well at school because she was far too busy rebelling, due to the years of child abuse she endured. Instead she preferred to create havoc wherever she went. As an adult, however, she has worked in many different fields, including jobs with horses and also with adults with learning disabilities, where she became very interested in behavior modification and completed a City and Guilds diploma in Advanced Management in Care.
She enjoyed these types of work roles because helping other people is something that Abigail does best. Abigail has always had a passion for writing; she loved the way she could escape through poetry, and has written it for family and friends since she was a child.
She had an abusive childhood that she somehow survived. She then rebelled and lived a gang lifestyle in south London. She decided to write the story of her young life in the hope that it would help someone else to want to survive and make a difference, and to not be a victim all their lives.
Abigail and her husband foster children in care. Always a busy house with a lot of raw emotions to deal with, theirs is also an extremely successful one, in helping kids to make positive changes in their lives. Abigail is funny, honest, kind and caring, she works extremely hard, wears her heart on her sleeve; what you see is definitely what you get. Abigail Lawrence is a pseudonym.
This work is dedicated to my wonderful family and my amazing husband.
Chapter 1
12 November 1972
“Sshhh, they’ll hear you!” An unfamiliar, female voice sounded angry as it wafted up the steps. There was a lot of whispering downstairs. I had no idea who she was, but from the edge in her voice, I knew she was frustrated.
They probably thought we couldn’t hear if they whispered, because we were supposed to be in our rooms not on the landing. Thirty or forty of them were crammed into our little two up two down semi-detached council house.
I had no idea who these people were but they were dressed smartly. Most were wearing suits, some with flared trousers and long collars on flowery shirts, all very fashionable back in the 70’s. There weren’t any children so I figured the party was for adults only.
“What about the kids?” The same female voice rose above the rest.
What kids? I wondered. She had a funny accent; it sang with tones going up and down the scales, a bit like Welsh or Irish. There was urgency in her voice that made me feel sorry for those unfortunate “kids” she was talking about.
The familiar smell of tobacco floated upstairs. I loved that smell. It was mummy’s boyfriend who always smoked a pipe. He had been living here and taking care of us while mummy had been in hospital. I didn’t hear his voice, just smelt him, so I knew he was there. I closed my eyes and breathed in that delicious aroma of cherry tobacco which permeated everything in the room.
The party seemed in full flow downstairs with lots of food laid on and gentle music from Bobby Darin playing in the background. Mummy always liked his singing. She had most of his records and would often pick me up and swing me around while singing and dancing away to his songs.
I was really annoyed we had to stay upstairs. Who are all these people, anyway? Anyone I know? I felt like I was missing out on the fun, hiding up here in my fluffy romper-suit pyjamas. I hoped we wouldn’t get caught as we strained to see between the banisters.
The brown and orange patterned wallpaper distracted me for a moment. I tried to remember how many patterns I had counted one night when I was sent to bed early. The loose bit of wallpaper low to the skirting board was too much to resist so I couldn’t fight the urge. I had to pick away at it. The carpet was orange too, with a green swirly pattern going through. It was thick and fluffy and felt lovely between my toes. The curtains matched the green shades in the carpet but had a different pattern. I hated those curtains because they looked like someone vomited.
“It’s not fair. Why don’t us kids ever get to go to the parties?” I asked my brother, Alex.
“Shut up Abbie,” he chided. He was sulking too.
Alex was eight, two years older than me, but he acted much older. The only other member of my immediate family was Pepsi, our black, pet miniature poodle. She was being a pain as usual, constantly bringing me her toy to throw and yipping until I did. I threw it into the bedroom in a hurry, because if the adults heard her, we’d be in trouble.
“Shhhh. Pepsi. I can’t hear.”
That same female voice shouted angrily, “Then they’ll have to come with me, for now.”
An older man’s voice butted in, “They’ll go into a kid’s home over my dead body! They’re coming with me. And, by the way, where the hell is their father?”
Good point, I thought. Where the hell is my daddy? Haven’t seen him for weeks. I wouldn’t have minded but he was only around the corner until a little while ago, and then he just disappeared. I heard someone say he had shacked up with mummy’s friend one street away. Alex and I had promised not to tell mummy, but we used to go and visit daddy there while we were playing with his friend’s kids. Molly, Debbie and Daniel were our friends, but now they had disappeared too.
I had a really bad feeling in my tummy all day. I didn’t know why, but I felt kind of sick and scared.
When the adults argued, Alex started crying and ran to his bedroom. He never liked anyone to see him cry.
I couldn’t help but wonder who was going to look after me and
my brother. I let go of the banister and ran after Alex to see what was wrong.
He turned and asked, “Do you think she’s dead?” He looked quite concerned with tears in his eyes.
“It’s no good asking me,” I shrugged. What on earth was he going on about? He was trying to talk to me, but it was difficult to understand him between sobs and gasps. I went back on the landing and strained to hear exactly what was going on. Then I ran back to Alex’s room.
“Who’s dead, Alex? Who?” I was totally clueless while I stood in the doorway. I tried to listen to the soft voices from there but it was no use. “What does dead mean?” I knew mummy had been ill because we had visited her in hospital. She told me I was her “Princess.” “Mummy loves you,” I could still hear her say the words as her boyfriend took us out of the room. We never got to go back and see her again because we had been sent to spend a few nights with some friends. I guess I’d never realised how ill she was.
“It means she’s d-e-a-d, dead, stupid. She’s never, ever coming back.” Alex snapped.
“Who, Alex?” I was getting annoyed.
The enormity of what he said slammed my brain when the realisation finally hit home. I remember that scream inside my head, like it was yesterday. I’m not sure if the noise came out, but it was like a never ending wail. “Muuummy?” Does he mean Mummy? I panicked. I cried so hard I couldn’t even see through my tears.
I shouted over and over, “Mummy! Mummy!” throwing myself on the floor in a crumpled heap. I grabbed the banisters and cried, “Mummy!” through the bars.
A lady came running up the stairs and pried my fingers from the bars. She pulled me away from the banisters and hugged me so tight. I didn’t know her name but I didn’t want her to let go.
“It will be okay, sweetheart,” she said in a calm and caring way. “It will be okay.” She stroked my hair and held me to her breast while my tears and dribble soaked her dark blue flowery dress. She didn’t seem to mind. Wiping my runny nose on my pyjama sleeve, I saw Pepsi bring me her toy. She stood there waiting and tilting her head side to side, listening as she pawed at her toy. At first I thought she was trying to cheer me up, but as usual, she just wanted to play.
It was then that I realized the kids all the people downstairs were talking about were us, me and Alex. Oh my, I thought, Mummy’s been buried and the wake is at our house.
* * *
It was a dark and scary journey through the night, and it seemed to go on forever. Travelling from Norfolk to somewhere up north in the early 70’s was torture for a six-year-old, but losing my mother made me numb. All the way to Uncle Trevor’s house we sat in silence, not speaking for the entire journey. What do you say to complete strangers? I wondered. That’s who the people in the front of the car were to me, until they introduced themselves as relatives. We also didn’t have a clue where they were taking us.
We arrived at Uncle Trevor’s house somewhere in Manchester. I was relieved they had kids of their own. I will never forget walking into their living room. After all these years, it seems like yesterday. It looked very cosy and had a coal fire which lit the entire room with a warm orange glow. I could feel the heat from it standing in the doorway, but I thought it smelt awful. The smoke stayed in my throat when I breathed. I’d rather have our old electric heater, I thought. It didn’t smell so bad.
I looked across the room and saw four kids, one boy, all of them wearing white night-dresses. I thought, That’s weird, and smiled and giggled to myself. We were offered a cup of Horlicks as the kids welcomed us into their home.
We lived with them for several weeks. I have no real memories of the time we spent with them but I’m sure they were kind to us. Actually I’m not sure how long it was before daddy came. It’s all a distant blur.
People were saying our daddy had “buggered off,” not giving a toss about his kids. I didn’t believe a word because daddy would never leave us. These people obviously didn’t know my daddy, or they were from mummy’s side. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be saying stuff like that.
One day his long awaited arrival was announced with a shout at my Uncle, “They are my kids and there is nothing you can do about it!”
I had the urge to run up and hug him because I hadn’t seen my daddy for ages. But they both looked mad and the arguing held me back. I heard daddy explain that he had re-married and, as it later turned out, to my mummy’s friend, the one who lived one street away. She was the one who we had agreed to keep secret.
“You try and stop me!” Daddy warned.
The next thing I knew I was sitting in the back of his old Austin. I could smell the exhaust fumes coming in the back while I watched the world go by. Little did I know we were going to live with him and his new family, forever. Somehow, even though things were tough, knowing we were going to live with our old friends that had disappeared was really exciting. I waddled in a cradle of naivety. Daddy loves me, I thought. He came back, didn’t he?
I sat in the car feeling scared again. Where are we going? I was chuffed to bits that daddy finally found us, even if it had taken awhile. I lost my mummy, but at least I had my daddy back.
Alex was always the “daddy’s boy,” and he was so happy for the first time in what seemed like years. But of course, it had only been weeks. Whatever happened to Pepsi? I wondered. She just disappeared a bit like we did. I asked daddy where Pepsi was several times, but it only annoyed him.
“We have a new dog now,” daddy said sounding impatient. “It’s a Rough-Collie called Sunny.”
“I want Pepsi,” I said. “She’s my dog.” All of a sudden I was in tears again. Where is Pepsi? I wondered. Where is my dog, mummy’s dog?
I thought daddy coming to get us would make everything all right again. I was so pleased to see him, nothing else should have mattered, but Pepsi was the only thing I remembered that mummy had loved.
I didn’t know why, but my tummy had a bad feeling.
Chapter 2
Molly, Debbie and Daniel were there waiting to greet us. An exciting five minutes was followed by the arrival of daddy’s new wife, Sue. She said, “Hello,” gave a quick hug without even looking at us and then pushed us aside to get to daddy. I didn’t know where to look when I saw her kissing him with an open mouth. She looked like a Vampire trying to eat his lips. That’s my daddy, I thought. Keep your hands off! Who are you anyway? Her own kids were told to go clean up the kitchen whilst Sue showed us up to our rooms.
I remembered Sue from when she was my mummy’s friend. She was a very pretty woman and she knew it with plenty of male attention. She had long legs always shown off by the shortest of miniskirts. Her breasts although large were nicely shaped by some kind of special bras, pushed together like a couple of balloons, always showing lots of cleavage. She maintained a full face of make-up. In fact, she seemed to wake up with make up on, never going downstairs until she looked pretty, and with perfectly polished finger nails too, always red and perfect. Her dark brown hair was permed into tight curls--afro’s were the fashion. She had big blue, drilling eyes. When she stared at me, I had to look away. Straight away I knew I had to respect this lady; everyone did and nobody argued with her. She’s always right you know!
I was sharing with two girls, Debbie aged eight and Molly six. We had bunk beds and there weren’t any blankets, just sheets.
“You don’t need blankets,” Sue stated in a matter of fact way. “It gets far too hot in this house.”
I looked for toys and thought to myself, That’s a good point, where are my toys? The bedroom looked out into a small garden. Maybe my toys are outside or in daddy’s car? Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow, when it’s light.
Alex wasn’t too happy about sharing a room with Daniel, he was only three. Debbie was the oldest. She made it very clear she didn’t want us there and certainly didn’t want to share her mum. She hardly said a word to me but seemed to get on well with Alex, maybe because her birthday was three days before his and it was like they were twins.
Molly was totally different, she was very plain and pale skinned, skinny and not at all pretty. She had teeth protruding all over the place and looked like a good candidate for a brace. But she was a lovely person, always sweet, and we seemed to get on so well right from the start. She was only two months older than me and we often pretended we were twins too.
Things seemed fine for a few days. We were shown around the local area by the kids. We saw the school we would be going to and went shopping for school uniforms.
Daddy came into our bedroom early the next morning. He woke me up and gently whispered, “Honey I’ve got to go back to work. I will see you next week.”
I thought I was dreaming until I woke up a short while later and daddy was gone. I was brushing my teeth when a pain shot right through the side of my head.
Next thing I knew Sue was screaming at me, “I called you, you little bitch and when I call you, you had better move!” The pain I felt was her right hand slapping me round the head, the force enough to knock me off my feet.
“Get downstairs,” she screamed right in my face. I had never been hit before, I was shocked. My brain froze in shear panic. I ran downstairs with all the kids looking at me.
Alex asked, “What’s wrong Abbie?”
“Butt out!” she shouted, “or you’ll soon find out.”
The others ignored what was happening and carried on with what they were doing. They obviously knew better than to cross Sue.
“Sit down here,” she smirked pointing to the floor in front of her feet. “That is just a taster of what you’ll get the next time you ignore me.”
I sat down and noticed her toes were painted red too. “I didn’t ignore you Sue,” I pleaded. The next thing I knew my hair felt like it was being pulled out in chunks as I was dragged across the floor,
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