I continued to visit my Aunt Iris and at times stay with her. I needed some persuasion now though. Her husband was about more, older than her, he was semi retired and not always off driving coaches and when he was his trips were shorter. I tried to just go for long weekends when I knew she would be there all the time. Mother was keen for me to go so she could have a `break`, so before I went there would be extra chores, all the laundry and ironing caught up on so she could put her feet up when I left, the same feet that were up before I went too.
There were times though when he was about when I visited. I hated it.
There were times though when he was about when I visited. I hated it.
If my Aunt was up at the big house I would pray she would get back before he did. If not I would hide upstairs and hope he would stay outside, he was out there a lot doing odd jobs and gardening. If he seemed to be about downstairs though I would go in the bathroom and lock the door.
My two Uncles had moved to be near their sister and now owned a house in the village. I began to sleep at their house and just visit my Aunts cottage when I knew she was not working and would be staying home.
I felt much safer at my Uncle`s. I missed the extra time with her but even though still young I was savvy enough to recognise an adult who was a threat, so that time was a sacrifice I had to make.
As I have said previously he was a predator. When he had made his comment about my `come to be eyes` I knew that I was right in my assessment of him. When he said that to me my Aunt looked over, startled, she shot him a look, glanced at me, then back at him. She said nothing....nothing at all. I have wondered if she spoke to him in private. If she did it made no difference. He ogled me, tried to chat and joke, found me `jobs` to do with him and touched and brushed up against me any opportunity he got, I was like a jumpy rabbit, trying to out manoeuvre him and avoid getting cornered.
Young girls of 12 or 13 often rapidly change physically and I was no exception. I was fast getting a bust and curves. I swear there was not an inch of me that was not scrutinised with a leery expression any chance he got.
So one time I was at my Uncles house and I believe one of them had an appointment of some sort, one was the driver and the other had the onset of Alzheimer's and my Aunt was going with them too to offer support. Just as they were leaving my Aunt told me that he will pop by to do a couple of odd jobs and off they drove, leaving me at his mercy.
I have no wish to go into detail so briefly.....
I head back in the house and begin to gather my things, I had planned to sit in the garden and read but I decided to hide in my room til the others were back. I grabbed my book from the sitting room and was just going into the kitchen for a drink to take with me upstairs when I came face to face with him.
He was grinning with delight, practically slavering. My heart sank.
He then made some ridiculous excuse for me to pop into the garage, which could be accessed from a door in the kitchen. Like a fool I went and in an instant he was behind me, I felt him against me as his arms grabbed me and pulled me back into him and his hands began to fumble around grabbing and pulling at my skirt. I was frozen in terror.
~
I stood in the kitchen after the attack, leaning against the side, trembling, my heart pounding out of my chest and my face burning red with humiliation and fear. I stared at the floor, there was no where to run to for safe haven and I was frightened to challenge him in case he came after me again and do God knows what. He began speaking to me as if nothing had just happened, making stupid jokes. I did not know how the mood would turn, so I smiled at the floor to appease him.
I was trained to keep quiet and accept people could treat me as they wished. I was programmed not to expect anyone to save me. I had no doubt that my only value was the use I could be and other than that I was worthless.
Screaming and sobbing were not allowed so I choked my tears back.
I knew no one was going to save me, before or after.
I could not say, I`ll tell my dad and he`ll kill you because I didn`t believe for a minute he would. I did not say I`ll tell my Aunt because she had already heard him say something sexual to me and had hardly batted an eyelid, a clear message to me that I had no worth. I did not tell my Uncles because I didn`t want to be a nuisance to them or make things difficult between them, my Aunt and him.
I don`t remember what happened next. I think the `play` button was pressed and the day just went ahead like any other day.
I don`t remember much really after that but the one thing I will never forget is the colour and texture of the skirt I was wearing. It was a brown tweed material with little bobbles on the woven thread that were raised up. I clearly remember the feel of the material and his hands pulling at it. I never wore it again and sneaked it into one of my Mothers doorstep charity clothes bags.
I phoned my Father to fetch me home. He huffed and puffed and umm`ed and ahh`ed, reluctant to say yes immediately in case my Mother didn`t agree on it. He told me to stay til arranged but I pleaded with him and sensing it was something more than a teenagers fickleness he reluctantly agreed to come and fetch me back. I have no memory of him asking what was the matter and why was I upset.
Young girls of 12 or 13 often rapidly change physically and I was no exception. I was fast getting a bust and curves. I swear there was not an inch of me that was not scrutinised with a leery expression any chance he got.
So one time I was at my Uncles house and I believe one of them had an appointment of some sort, one was the driver and the other had the onset of Alzheimer's and my Aunt was going with them too to offer support. Just as they were leaving my Aunt told me that he will pop by to do a couple of odd jobs and off they drove, leaving me at his mercy.
I have no wish to go into detail so briefly.....
I head back in the house and begin to gather my things, I had planned to sit in the garden and read but I decided to hide in my room til the others were back. I grabbed my book from the sitting room and was just going into the kitchen for a drink to take with me upstairs when I came face to face with him.
He was grinning with delight, practically slavering. My heart sank.
He then made some ridiculous excuse for me to pop into the garage, which could be accessed from a door in the kitchen. Like a fool I went and in an instant he was behind me, I felt him against me as his arms grabbed me and pulled me back into him and his hands began to fumble around grabbing and pulling at my skirt. I was frozen in terror.
~
I stood in the kitchen after the attack, leaning against the side, trembling, my heart pounding out of my chest and my face burning red with humiliation and fear. I stared at the floor, there was no where to run to for safe haven and I was frightened to challenge him in case he came after me again and do God knows what. He began speaking to me as if nothing had just happened, making stupid jokes. I did not know how the mood would turn, so I smiled at the floor to appease him.
I was trained to keep quiet and accept people could treat me as they wished. I was programmed not to expect anyone to save me. I had no doubt that my only value was the use I could be and other than that I was worthless.
Screaming and sobbing were not allowed so I choked my tears back.
I knew no one was going to save me, before or after.
I could not say, I`ll tell my dad and he`ll kill you because I didn`t believe for a minute he would. I did not say I`ll tell my Aunt because she had already heard him say something sexual to me and had hardly batted an eyelid, a clear message to me that I had no worth. I did not tell my Uncles because I didn`t want to be a nuisance to them or make things difficult between them, my Aunt and him.
I don`t remember what happened next. I think the `play` button was pressed and the day just went ahead like any other day.
I don`t remember much really after that but the one thing I will never forget is the colour and texture of the skirt I was wearing. It was a brown tweed material with little bobbles on the woven thread that were raised up. I clearly remember the feel of the material and his hands pulling at it. I never wore it again and sneaked it into one of my Mothers doorstep charity clothes bags.
I phoned my Father to fetch me home. He huffed and puffed and umm`ed and ahh`ed, reluctant to say yes immediately in case my Mother didn`t agree on it. He told me to stay til arranged but I pleaded with him and sensing it was something more than a teenagers fickleness he reluctantly agreed to come and fetch me back. I have no memory of him asking what was the matter and why was I upset.
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