Roxan ~ In My Life with the Beatles

4

1957 Hell Gates ~ 13-15 years old.

The years between '55 and '57 were not kind to my mother, or me; James somehow skirted around the pain and grew up and left. He wanted to help but with no money he said he would come back to us someday.

After dad died we were strapped. No income, no food meant no home, no us. After eight months something had to give, or give in, and that something was Mum. Senior Constable Charlie Knoble had proposed marriage numerous times, promising a new better home; a new life for mum and her children.

As hard as it was to move on she finally said yes.

As we packed our meager belongings I was sad for the past but happy to know mum was smiling more freely again. I dashed up the street hugging dear Mrs. Portman goodbye scooting back to knock on Richards door and was thankfully allowed to ascend the stairs to see my friend once more, promising to visit when we were settled.

January 1957 was when it began..

I can't, or should I say shan't, recall why it started but after mother said something or other to a drunken Charlie he began hitting. Her, walls, me. Anything at all really. After attacking Mum in the bedroom he would leave for hours on end and most times he came home smelling like a vat of lager had fallen on him.

I would try to open the door to help Mum but it was locked and she was too ashamed to look at me.

However what she didn't realise was that after our 'Honourable' Policeman Charlie left her, hours later, after his night out on the turps; upon his return he would sneak back in... to my room.

Entering quickly and rushing me, slamming a hand over my mouth, a "sock in the gob" as he most eloquently stated, or whatever pillow he could almost smother me with was used to silence my screams, I was raped. Beaten once or twice a week for good measure too.

Not having the strength or fortitude to do anything about it, I took the torture.

Laid there deathly still. Cried in silence.

By the end of '57 I was black and blue under my clothes and I felt like a two-bit whore.

My confidence was at rock bottom.