Invisible Tears

by Abigail Lawrence

  Food was scarce for the kids in our house. She would cook lovely meals for herself or any one of our Uncles, but all us kid’s were fed separately, horrible food. If I complained she would force the tripe into my mouth and make me choke.

  “It’s good for you,” she’d laugh, “If you don’t eat it today, it will be there tomorrow.”

  It was too. Days would go by where the very same plate of food would be put in front of me. I suppose I was saved by the other kids sneaking bits of food off their plates for me. Only when it got to the weekend and dad was home did it stop. But, I would pay for it on Monday morning when he left again. She never forgot.

  Alex got away with quite a lot more as time went on. I would take the blame for things he did and he would sneak nice food to my room as a trade-off. The other kids would take their fair share of beatings too, everyone except Debbie. Debbie was the spoilt one. Whilst we would have charity shop or jumble clothes, Debbie had nice new clothes to go with her long shiny hair, brown eyes and olive dark skin. She looked very exotic. We all wanted to look like Debbie.

  Molly constantly had her head banged off the wall. “I will knock some sense into you if it kills me,” mum would scream while smashing her head into the wall. Holding on to her hair either side, mum gripped her head with perfectly manicured hands. Molly was a bit simple, they all said. The kid’s at school picked on her too, no matter how hard she worked at pleasing them. Mum often tried to knock some sense into her.

  Dad started staying away at work some weekends. That meant that there was no escape from mum’s mood swings. We would be up and out of the house by eight in the morning and not allowed back until teatime whatever the weather. Sometimes we would go out in shorts and t-shirts and as the weather changed and maybe rained all day, we would freeze and shiver. If we tried to get back in, we were told, “Tough,” or “Bugger off!” There were times when we would huddle up in the ally beside our house to try and stay warm.

  After we cleaned up the house daily, very often we would be locked in our rooms with just our bucket. Mum would go out and leave us alone and locked in. That happened on lots of occasions where mum would go out with one of her male friends. She was trying to get on TV you know and was seeing lots of different men from that circle of friends who could help her. They were friends that were hers and not daddy’s. Men friends who daddy never even met started to come around a lot.

  Chapter 4

  I was nine years old when I was told by mum, “Go and take this envelope around Uncle Joe’s house.” It was just after breakfast and she said, “I have to pay him for the favour he did with the lawn cutting, and you’re the one he wants to bring it for some reason,” she smirked and looked very pleased with herself.

  He lived about a 45 minute walk over in the posh area. I had never walked that far by myself and I was a little nervous about losing my way. I loved looking at the posh houses with the smart, tidy front gardens full of flowers and nice cars parked in the driveways. It looked like only happy families lived there.

  Uncle Joe was nice to us kids when he came round our house, often giving us a wink and a boiled sweet from his pocket. We would sit on his lap for stories while he waited for mum to get ready to go out with him. It always took a long time for her to get ready, and she always looked so pretty when she went out. She had to impress the TV people or she would never get on TV shows. Dad knew she wanted to get onto the TV, but I don’t think he knew how often she went out. We would be locked in our bedrooms with our buckets to pee in. It didn’t matter what time she went out and sometimes she didn’t come back until early the following morning.

  I never felt uncomfortable when Joe picked me up and put me on his lap. At first I would shift around a lot but I would get a warning glance from mum if she walked in. She would say, “Stop wriggling around and sit still.” So I sat still, even when his hand would accidently on purpose slide up my thigh between my legs while he adjusted me on his lap. He was never nasty to me though. In fact he was so nice and kind that mum would say he had a soft spot for me. All the men did, she said, but she didn’t know why.

  “You are so ugly! What a blessing your real mum died. She would’ve died of shock if she could see how ugly you are growing up to be.”

  Sometimes if no one was in the room with us, Uncle Joe kept his fingers there, between my legs, moving them gently back and forth, stroking my private bits over the top of my knickers. He was so gentle and it was quite comforting, especially if mum had given me a good hiding that day. I thought it was nice that someone showed me some kind of affection. He was always gentle and kind to us girls.

  I didn’t know it was wrong for him to do that. After a while, none of us would want to sit on his lap, it made us feel weird. Mum would pick one of us up and plonk us on one of her friend’s lap and tell him to read us a story. I tried to stay still like she said, but some of the men did fidget a lot.

  I remember being jealous because when Debbie or Molly had been messenger for mum, she was so pleased with them. They were treated nicely and got to stay up late and watch TV eating sweets or crisps. “You’re a good girl,” she would say. “You’re helping Mum get on TV being my messenger, and when I get on TV we will be rich and get to live in a posh house too.”

  I couldn’t figure out how us going to and from Uncle Joe’s house giving messages was going to help her get onto TV, but we certainly were not going to argue. No one argued with mum.

  Walking up that posh road, as mum’s messenger for the first time, I knew she would be pleased with me. Will I get sweets and TV tonight? I wondered. After all, it was a long walk and I would be as good a messenger as any.

  “Give him the letter and do exactly as you’re told,” she warned as I was leaving, “Don’t you annoy him in any way. And if you spoil my chances of getting on TV you will feel my wrath like you’ve never felt it before girl.” Why would I annoy Uncle Joe? He was one of the few people who was actually nice to me.

  Uncle Joe’s house was especially posh. It had blue shutters by the windows and a playhouse in the garden. I didn’t know if he had kids; I had never seen any. Maybe he was divorced? Joe came smiling to the door open-armed ready to pick me up. He seemed so very pleased to see me.

  “And how’s my favourite little Princess,” he said greeting me with a huge hug. I smiled remembering daddy called me that too, and I walked inside handing him the letter. Uncle Joe wasn’t a big man, quite small really, even smaller than daddy. He had reddish hair and ginger eyebrows. He had a small beard and a small moustache. Lines on his face around his mouth and eyes crinkled when he smiled and he had dimples on his cheeks. He read the letter quickly then turned to speak to me.

  “I was just about to watch a film on TV,” he said pointing to the television. “Do you want to stay and watch it with me? The letter says you’re allowed to stay for tea.”

  “Oh yes,” I beamed with joy. I couldn’t believe my luck. I would have been even more jealous of Debbie and Molly, if I knew they got this kind of treatment. I was so happy I’d been allowed to go this time.

  “Come on then,” he beckoned. “Let’s get comfy.” He pulled me onto his lap for a cuddle as he normally did. I was more than happy to sit on his lap while stuffing my face with milk and biscuits. It was pure heaven. Looking around I saw lots of pictures of children. Maybe he does have kids.

  I was sat on his lap for a while when he adjusted me further pulling me right in close. He started petting my leg, then his hand moved all the way up my thigh to my knickers and again he started stroking my privates. I don’t know how long he did it, as I was so engrossed watching the film on TV. I had forgotten he was touching me at all, until another adjustment and his fingers slid into my knickers gently touching and rubbing my bare private bits with his thumb. It felt strange as he had never moved my knickers before. I tensed and started to shift nervously, trying to pull away and get down. But he would have none of it. He pulled me close again and held me tightly with enough force to make me think about wha
t mum said, “Don’t annoy him.” So I said nothing and tried to be still.

  “You are such an angel,” he said. I could feel his breath on my neck and his whiskers tickled. “Your Mum told me you are old enough to play grown up games now.”

  Games mean fun, I thought. So I turned and smiled and said, “If mum said I can, then I guess it’s okay.” I was pleased she thought I was old enough to play grown up games. What are grown up games? I wondered. I hoped she would be kind to me that night.

  I could feel a hard lump in Uncle Joe’s trousers. His bottom bits seemed to be throbbing. Uncle Joe moved me aside then stood up and went out of the room for a minute, returning with a camera.

  “Get undressed,” he said in a matter-of-fact way, like it was nothing at all. “Take your dress off,” he repeated a little louder when I didn’t move straight away. I shifted slowly towards the edge of the sofa then stood up. I must have looked concerned because Uncle Joe got very angry and snapped at me.

  “Okay don’t! I will just write a letter back to your Mum and you can be on your way,” he said while standing up and moving towards the door.

  “No, no it’s okay.” I panicked at the thought. If mum found out, I would be in for a beating. Nothing could be worse than that cane. I quickly took off my blue cotton, gingham summer dress and that left me stood there in my vest and white cotton knickers. I could feel the heat rise in my face with the blood rushing to make it so obvious that I was embarrassed. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, but I wasn’t cold.

  Now lie down on the floor and open your legs,” he demanded, pointing to where he wanted me. I did as I was told, laying down slowly not knowing what to put where. I felt like a plastic doll as if my body couldn’t bend. At that point he grabbed my knees and pushed open my legs and told me to stay still. I’m not sure how long he took photographs of me, but it wasn’t that bad. Why he would want such silly pictures? I wondered. After a while he pulled my vest off, leaving me with naked nipples and skin crawling with goose bumps. Now I was scared!

  “You can get dressed now,” he said smiling. “You’ve been a very good girl and I will write and tell your Mum so.”

  I did get to stay up that night. Mum was very pleased with me, and it felt so nice to feel good around her for once. She was like a different person.

  “You made me proud ,” she smiled handing me crisps and a bar of chocolate. Later, I heard her on the telephone saying, “I was quite pleased with Abbie. She could become my most valuable possession.”

  For the first time in a long time, I had a sense of belonging and a feeling that I was actually wanted.

  Chapter 5

  “Sit down kids, we have some news for you,” daddy said.

  Mum and dad stood together in the living room; they were very happy about something. We were all jumping around when mum said, “We have a new baby on the way.” She sounded like the sweetest person, not the person I knew.

  “That will make six of us,” Alex said. We giggled.

  “You all have to make a big effort to help mum around the house now,” daddy said.

  What? Mum never lifted a finger before she got pregnant, I thought, What makes him think she will now? She threw a glare in my direction. Surely I didn’t say that out loud? I kept my fingers crossed I hadn’t. Then again, the witch could probably read my mind.

  The baby was beautiful. I don’t remember ever being allowed to hold her though. Her name was Kassie, and she was the most perfect thing I had ever seen.

  Dad was home for awhile when Kassie was born, so of course things seemed really nice, lots of laughter and fun. We went on holiday to Butlins too. It was a great time, even though we had to stay in our chalet room at night while mum and dad went out. We still loved every minute of it, and, for a while, the beatings stopped.

  It didn’t take too long to get back to normal. When dad went back to work, the torture got even worse. I was getting beaten most every day for something. Her latest weapon of choice was a belt.

  “Don’t draw on the walls,” she shouted as she belted my legs and backside. Dad had lots of belts with different buckles. He liked Cowboy and Western films, so the buckles on his belts were big and hurt a lot more than ordinary buckles. This time I had to choose which belt I wanted. I hadn’t drawn on the walls. Daniel had, but what was the point in arguing? I just assumed the position.

  Later that day, I was told that Uncle Joe wanted to see me. My visits there were getting more and more frequent. Most of the time he would take pictures or fiddle with my bits, but I didn’t mind as he was very nice to me. I was getting used to posing for the camera too.

  “Your Mum tells me you’ve had the belt today?” he questioned when I arrived at his house. I sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa nursing my raw bottom.

  “Yes I have,” I nodded sadly. Uncle Joe liked to see where mum had spanked me. He would take photographs of my bottom and my marked back. He said he wanted to show his friends how cruel she was. He would kiss my bottom better and rub cream on it. I never saw the pot of cream but when I was lying on my tummy he always squirted me with warm cream and rubbed it in to make it better. It did feel quite soothing.

  On one of those visits, Uncle Joe showed me pictures of models in a magazine. He told me that those models were famous and that I was just as pretty and could be famous too. As he was helping mum get on TV, he would help me become famous too. Mum had been on the TV a couple of times so I knew he was telling the truth. All I had to do was copy what the ladies in the magazine were doing. He would get a friend around to take pictures, because he would have to help me pose and couldn’t take pictures at the same time.

  The visits became daily for a while. Uncle Joe showed me a lot of different magazines with women and men doing all sorts of strange things with the man’s willy. The ladies had hair on their privates in some pictures and not in others. I thought they were probably young like me if they had no hair.

  Uncle Joe started showing me photos of other kids and told me those kids were famous. They were doing the same sort of things as the grownups I had been shown. Must be normal for kids to do this stuff, I thought, if mum’s okay with it.

  Mum was happy a bit more often as Joe was giving her money to help out with the bills. We were starting to get more toys, but mostly mum would get lots of new clothes and make-up. She said she had to look her best for TV.

  I overheard her on the telephone one evening saying, “Are you kidding? Abbie’s worth more than that. If you don’t give me more money, I’ll send one of the other girls.” I felt so special, but I didn’t go around to see Uncle Joe for a while. Mum said she was waiting for the right time. A few weeks later I heard her talking downstairs, saying how it was almost the amount she wanted and to keep raising the figure. I didn’t know at the time, she had them bidding on me.

  * * *

  “What are you doing? For god’s sake. All I asked you to do is wash the dishes, and you can’t even do that without breaking something. You really are a clumsy little slut aren’t you?” The words flew into my ears and I cringed as I saw her coming down the hallway. This woman, my new mother and the cause of my pain, stood over me as I felt an open hand connect with the back of my head. I stumbled forward from the force behind the blow.

  She went on, “You think you’re clever! You’re not, you little shit. All you are is a worthless low-life. You should die and give someone else a chance at life. Why don’t you just do that? Or should I do it for you?” She rambled on, poison spewing from her lips. Once again the hand flew against me, but this time it was a hammer blow with fist clenched and I fell. She laughed at my feeble attempts to look strong and get away, my pathetic attempts to show her she couldn’t hurt me. But inside I knew better, she hurt me, she hurt me really bad all the time. When she paused for a moment I crawled onto my knees then stood up and ran up to my room. It was my only safe place, unless she followed. Sometimes she did and sometimes she didn’t.

  “That’s it! Run away you little weakl
ing. I’m going to kill you one day. I hope you’re ready for that,” she bellowed. Her threats chased me up the stairs, and I flew into my room and slammed the door.

  I screamed out, “No!” I leaned with my back against the door thinking I was strong enough to stop her coming in if she tried.

  I cried and tears began to flow down my face. I rubbed my face and eyes with clenched fists so hard to stop the tears. I am not going to cry. She can’t make me cry anymore. I won’t let her.

  Once again, she’d succeeded in killing my spirit. I wanted to be strong, but I felt weak inside and out. All she had ever done was hurt me, and I could do nothing about it.

  Alex opened the door and saw me huddled in the corner behind my bed. He knew only too well what went on when daddy was out. He came and sat with me but said nothing. Reassurance was pointless. If he said it would be okay, he would be lying, because we both knew it wouldn’t be okay, ever. We sometimes sat together and waited in terror, listening to her beat one of the other kids and waiting for her next bout of anger and hatred aimed at us.

  Several hours later I heard the door open, not my bedroom door but the front door, and I knew instantly that my dad was back. I vaulted up and ran down the stairs to greet him. He looked at me with a gleaming smile. I grabbed him and hugged him as hard as I could, never wanting to let go. It was the only time I ever felt safe, when I was in his arms.

  “Oh hello, you’re home. How was work?” Mum said. When she saw him hugging me, she walked our way.

  “Fine, thanks. Same old, same old. How was your day?” She ignored the question and walked off. Daddy carried me into the lounge. I sat, cradled in his arms, happy again, but just for the weekend.

  On Monday morning mum told me I would have the week off school. I had been good all week and so, as a reward, I would be going to stay with a friend for a while. All the other kids were jealous. I remember Alex crying upstairs saying if dad knew, he’d freak. Knew what? I asked myself. I couldn’t understand why dad would be so upset that I had time off school. Mum gave Alex a good hiding when she heard that and told him, “It’s a secret holiday, and if your father finds out, I’ll give you such a lashing you won’t sit down for a month.”