Please protect us, p.16
Please Protect Us, page 16
* * *
Over the next couple of years, I began to feel that the verbal cruelty that came in Phil’s direction was almost worse than those awful acts that Clive made us a party to. It was as though he despised people with any kind of disability. Or maybe he was just reinforcing the picture of just how bad our lives would be if we ended up living with him.
On one of those nightmare weekends in Cambridge he showed just how explosive his temper could be – something that up until then he had always managed to control. It was when Phil tried to stand up for himself. The evening before, Clive had announced that he had to visit his shop after breakfast: ‘Need to be there, it’s where all my accounts are,’ was all he said.
It’s where you have a bloody rug on the storeroom floor and a lock on the door was the thought that ran angrily through my head then. For since the last Scottish trip, this became his new way of getting us alone in private.
I felt that tinge of fear creeping up from my stomach to my throat the moment I heard the word ‘shop’. At first, he took us both with him, but for some time he had only taken me. To think that once upon a time my chest had puffed up with pride when he invited me there – what a contrast to how I felt just a couple of years on.
Later that evening, when we were in our room, he paid Phil and me a visit. We must have looked stunned – he had never risked coming in before everyone else was in bed.
‘Oh, relax, I’m not staying!’ he told us nonchalantly. ‘Just want to fill you in about tomorrow, Phil. I know I always take Ryan to the shop with me. I realise that must look like favouritism to you, which is very unfair, isn’t it?’
No answer came his way as we both waited to see what he had up his sleeve this time.
‘Oh, come on, Phil! I’ve seen you watching Ryan getting in the car with me. I know you must have felt left out. You always looked sad, which told me that you wanted to come as well. Tomorrow, you’ll have your wish. I’ve decided that you can come with me this time instead of Ryan.’
I watched as Phil clenched his fists tightly, got off the bed and stood as straight as he could before uttering the sentence that took even me a little aback: ‘I don’t want to come with you.’ For once, his words came out clearly.
‘And why’s that, Phil? Feeling lazy, are we?’
‘You know why.’
‘No, I don’t. And nor will your mother, will she? It’s not me you’ll have to explain to about not wishing to help me in the shop, is it? I hope for your sake that you have a good enough excuse to convince her that you’re not just being an ungrateful, wilful child.’
Judging by the complacent expression on Clive’s face, he was only too aware that Phil had not thought of one. He gave him a few seconds to reply, then laughed dismissively.
‘I knew it! You haven’t thought of one, have you? I’ll tell you something, you can rest assured your mother won’t like it if you upset me. I must say, I do wonder sometimes how she copes. I doubt if she could without these breaks that Maureen and I give her. They’re pretty important to her, aren’t they?
‘Let’s face it, she has a lot to put up with, hasn’t she? Especially with you, Phil. I mean, you still can’t walk properly, can you? She must be worried that you’re going to stay like that for the rest of your life. And then what happens when you leave school? You’ll be around her feet all day, won’t you?’
‘I won’t! I’ll be working.’
‘Oh, yes? Who do you think will employ you, eh? I can just picture it now, you dragging your leg into the interview room. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the person interviewing you not being able to understand a word you say. You think they would offer you a job after that pathetic performance? I don’t think so! No, you’ll be at home alright. Expecting her to wait on you hand and foot, and she knows it! What a life has she got to look forward to, hey?’
Every one of those words, like poisoned darts, flew across the room inflicting pain, until Phil could take it no longer. He was just about crumbling under them. But still he had a small spark of courage left, which stopped him giving up completely. His mouth opened as he tried to force himself to speak. If I could, I would have called out, ‘Phil, don’t,’ for I knew what was going to happen. Those gulping sounds he made when stressed would be all Clive would hear and I had seen his reaction to them before.
Expressing empathy was an act that Clive was inclined to drop when we were alone with him. He just glared at Phil, who was trying his best to get the right words out, and lost any patience he might have had.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, just shut up, will you? Don’t open your mouth again until you can speak properly. Those grating sounds of yours just hurt my ears.’
Phil’s face turned a bright pink as he pressed his knuckle into his eyes, desperately trying to stop the tears of anguish from falling. He looked at me despairingly before wrapping his arms around his head and slid his back down the wall until he could perch on his heels. He had nothing left to say, not to me and not to Clive. His efforts had just exhausted him and he knew then that he had no choice: he would be going to the shop.
Clive stood still for a moment, gazing at my twin with something approaching naked contempt. It was that expression more than anything that made me want to hurl myself at him and beat him on the chest as hard as I could. To my shame, I did nothing – I just waited for him to leave.
He must have read my mind, for a mocking smile came in my direction.
‘Goodnight, boys. And, Phil, I’ll see you in the morning.’
With that, he left.
* * *
Several years later, I was asked why no one had noticed for we must have been showing signs of shock and distress. Truth is, I’ve discovered, children are often more resilient than adults think. Plus, Clive had spent time getting us to gradually accept those small acts of abuse of his until he believed he was safe in asking for more and more. We might have hated those episodes, but gradually, we were able to compartmentalise. There were good days, the ones where he was not around, and bad days when he was.
We tried the best we could to make the most of the good ones.
That was our way of surviving.
33
Ryan
Morning was much the same as usual. Mum came into our room all breezy and bright, telling us breakfast would soon be ready as she drew back the curtains. ‘I’m cooking this morning,’ she said. ‘Maureen’s having a lie-in. So, scrambled eggs and bacon alright for you two?’
To tell the truth, we hardly had an appetite, not that we could tell her that, so we just said yes and did our best to look enthusiastic as if we could hardly wait to eat it. We got dressed as quickly as we could, brushed our teeth, ran a comb through our hair and got down to the kitchen as fast as we could.
We were hoping that if Maureen was still asleep, maybe Clive would be too. A wish that was not granted for there he was at the table, dressed in his weekend casuals, yellow V-neck jumper and chinos, newspaper propped up in front of him and a cheerful smile on his face as he chatted away to Mum and Dad.
‘Morning, boys! Sun’s out, looks like it’s going to be a lovely day.’
Not that he waited for our replies, he just carried on talking about his shop and saying he wished he did not have to go to it.
Not as much as we did, I thought.
‘Still, I only have to be there for a couple of hours at most, then we can all go and do something together.’
‘Oh, Clive, you work so hard,’ Mum sympathised as she passed him and Dad their breakfast.
‘Well, lucky one of the boys can help me. I can get my paperwork done and Phil can let me know if anyone comes in.’
A bit unlikely that, I thought, as the door would be locked.
‘It makes all the difference, knowing I can work safely in the back room.’
Clearly, he had already told Mum which one of us was going with him. And there was me thinking he might just change his mind and at least take both of us with him. However bad it was that he did it, it was not so frightening when the two of us were together.
He hadn’t. I could tell from the way his mouth curled up into a smug smile as he slathered marmalade on his toast that he hadn’t given it a second thought.
Our breakfasts came and were placed in front of us. Looking up at Mum, Clive urged, ‘Come on, Audrey, sit down,’ as he picked up the coffee pot and poured cups for all of the adults.
‘You might have to bring a warm jumper, Phil. The shop can get a bit cold until the heater’s been on for a while,’ he said, turning to him. The ‘caring uncle’ smile was back in place, where it would stay until he was out of Mum’s sight.
For me, the worst part of that day was when it was time for Phil to leave. He had his jumper slung over his arm as he climbed meekly into the back seat of Clive’s car. ‘Easier with his seat belt if he sits there’ was the reason given each time we were taken somewhere in the car.
As they drove off, Phil turned so he could look at me out of the back window. Seeing his pale little face, I wanted to run alongside the car and pull him out. I knew what was going to happen when they reached the shop. Exactly the same as he had done to me the time before when we had come for a weekend.
That morning, as the minutes ticked by, images of every movement that Clive would be making flashed into my head. I could picture this as if I was watching a video of the events playing out. First, he would pull up in front of the shop. He would open the car door for Phil and offer him his hand to help him climb out, just in case someone he knew was looking. Then Phil would stand at Clive’s side as the front door to the business was unlocked. Inside, he would shiver a little, for the shop was cold nearly all year round. Clive would reassure him that it would soon be warm as he bent down to switch on the wall heater.
Next, he would go alone into that small back room, with only a small window facing a wall so no one could see in. He’d switch on the second heater and come and collect my brother. I could almost hear his smooth tones saying, ‘Now, Phil, let’s go into the other room and get comfortable, shall we?’ Not that this was a suggestion, it was a command. One that Phil would be only too aware of.
As he was of what Clive had planned once they were both in there.
He would see the rug positioned on the floor as he went in and know why it was there, though how Clive could describe lying on it while he grabbed hold of parts of our bodies as ‘making us comfortable’ hardly made sense. Once the door between the shop and that room closed, the ‘benevolent uncle’ mask was removed and Phil would see the coldness in the eyes of the real Clive.
I shuddered when I pictured Clive’s next movements. First, he would place a roll of kitchen towel near the rug, then tell my brother to lie down. ‘Hands at your side’ would be his first instruction and then in one fast swoop, he would bend down, grab hold of the bottom of Phil’s trousers and repeat what he had done to us in Scotland, pulling them and his tiny pair of briefs down to his ankles.
Humiliation is a powerful weapon, one that he had come to enjoy using. Clive’s next command would be for Phil to take hold of his own penis and rub it up and down. I had never told my brother exactly what went on in the room when I was with Clive at the office. Maybe I should have, but did I really want to make his sleep even more tortured?
Clive would stand over him, slowly unbutton his waistband and flies and watch with amusement as Phil’s eyes widened with fear. Then he would crouch over him, his bad breath fanning Phil’s face as he grabbed hold of his small right hand. He would pull it to where that ugly red thing was poking out of the gap of his trousers, wrap Phil’s fingers around it and with his hand on top of Phil’s, start to move it up and down and progressively faster. All Phil would be hearing then was Clive’s fetid breathing growing heavier and faster, eventually turning to grunts and groans. Suddenly Clive would shudder and Phil’s hand would be knocked aside as Clive reached for the kitchen towel.
‘You can play with yourself if you want to,’ he would tell him. ‘No? Well then, pull your trousers up. Think it’s time I had some coffee.’
As Phil was struggling back into his clothes, he would make a quick phone call for coffee, cake and cola to be delivered. He’d tell him I normally collected it when I was there but that he was too useless and would spill everything.
Oh, there would be a few business calls made while Phil sat in the shop with his cola and cake. He would hear his uncle chatting away as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
But then perhaps he hadn’t.
34
Phil
Before Ryan and I reached our teens, we somehow found a way to cope. Apart from my meltdown in London, I think we managed to hide much of what troubled us. Only Mum knew about the bedwetting and the nightmares, something I doubt she shared with Dad. Nor since that first time did she say anything about Ryan washing the urine out of his bottom sheets. I helped him with that, but she must have known what we were doing.
But then Mum was pretty good at keeping a poker face. If she noticed that we hardly looked excited when told Clive was arriving at the weekend, she made no comment. Not that she would have seen how the skin on the back of my neck prickled with fear the moment I heard the news. Neither of our parents seemed to notice that there was no more excited chatter when we were getting ready for a weekend visit to Clive’s. We hardly said a word on those journeys, but luckily for both Ryan and me, our visits to Cambridge lessened a little over the next few years. One reason was that with mock GCEs on the horizon, Leighton had to study even harder than before. We barely saw him in the evenings and as soon as our evening meal was finished, he would disappear back into his room, where he assured us he would be working quietly.
On Fridays, his satchel was just about bulging with weekend projects, not that it stopped his football – ‘Just have to get up earlier to fit it in,’ he told us. Then there were the family outings where our elder brothers brought along their girlfriends, or should I say future wives, to introduce to us all. Apart from that, there were visits to our grandparents, which Phil and I still loved for they made such a fuss of us. Gran, her face creased into a huge smile, would hug us tightly before telling us how much we had grown.
Within a few minutes a large pot of tea was made. We were now allowed proper cups and it was not just sweetened milk anymore, but best of all, out would come Gran’s homemade fruit cake. She knew it was our favourite and made sure there was a freshly baked one waiting for us on each visit.
To add to my parents’ calendar of visits and events that could only happen at weekends was the announcement of Ian’s wedding. We hadn’t seen much of him for some time and as Mum said, ‘Now I know the reason why.’ Helping to organise the reception, not to mention making sure we all had decent outfits for the big day, took up more of her time and the family’s spare cash. Then, as another year slid by, there was getting both Ryan and me ready to leave the junior school and begin the next term at senior school.
The amount of homework we were bringing home had gradually increased too. Now it was not just Leighton who had to work flat out at the weekend. Not that we were complaining – it had given us a really good excuse not to go to Cambridge.
One Friday, as we were walking back from school, Ryan laughingly said, ‘Our teacher looked as though she could hardly believe it when you thanked her for giving us all that homework!’
Naturally, Clive did not think that was too difficult to overcome. He told Dad that he quite understood and ‘was very pleased the boys were being so diligent’. He would let us use his study while we were there.
‘Be a bit more peaceful than sitting at the kitchen table, won’t it?’ said Dad half-jokingly.
Not being able to find another excuse, we had to put up with a few more visits and silently thanked Ian for announcing his wedding and our other brothers for wanting to meet up a little more often as they too headed towards marriage.
Clive sometimes managed to bring Maureen up to see Mum, which meant them staying with us for a couple of nights. The one advantage of him coming to our house was that although he came into our room, he never stayed long. Those visits were also never as bad as when we were at his house in Scotland or worst of all, at the shop. There, he felt far safer than he must have done in any other place.
No one could walk in on him there. And I doubt if anyone could have even heard us yelling, had we screamed out any protests. Even so, he was pretty confident in his own house, but in ours, he had definitely become far more cautious.
I think the reason was that Leighton was now a pretty knowledgeable teenager. One that I sensed was far from enthralled by Clive’s charm. And if I had sensed it, I guess Clive had too. Leighton was the one person who might have been at least curious and probably even suspicious about why he was in our room. I would not have put it past him to demand to know what he was doing there.
We were surely a little too old for Clive to say he was tucking us in or reading us a bedtime story? Looking back, I’m pretty sure he only risked his nightly visit when Leighton was at Warren’s.
35
Ryan
Even when I was still at junior school, I was aware of just how much our parents looked forward to their time with Clive. It was not only his and Maureen’s company they enjoyed, it was all the little treats he gave us as well. Afternoons on the river, dinners at his favourite restaurant or at the hotel where he and Maureen were staying, but the biggest treat of all was our three-week holiday in Scotland.
For a couple who needed to look at the price of everything they bought, and had to put money aside for both birthdays and Christmas, my parents must have thought that Clive had transformed their lives. Little did they know that Phil and I were the hidden price they paid.
Once Christmas was over and a new year had been greeted, the main topic of conversation seemed to focus on the Easter holidays and the impending trip to Scotland. We knew from the expectant glances thrown our way that we were meant to chime in and show our enthusiasm. As they were pretty wrapped up in their own plans, the fact that we had hardly anything to add seemed to go unnoticed.
