A Sister's Secret Page 11

  ‘I’ll go down to the church for you and tell everyone it’s all off.’

  I could see he was worried that I was doing something that I didn’t want.

  ‘I’m honestly not a lesbian, Dave,’ I told him. ‘I want to get married. I love Rob, I really do. I’m just nervous, that’s all.’

  We were an hour late by the time we arrived at the church and I could see Laraine’s worried face as we pulled up outside.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she shouted. ‘Get a move on, Deb! Poor Rob’s sweating in there.’

  I was shaking with nerves as I heard the organ start playing and I took David’s arm.

  ‘You can do it, Sis,’ he said. ‘You look beautiful.’

  We walked up the aisle followed by Davina and then Laraine. Laraine had refused to put her glasses on but she was as blind as a bat without them. I’d almost got to the front of the church when I felt a dragging on my dress and heard a loud ripping noise. I turned around to see Laraine had stood on my train with her white stiletto. There was a big hole in it and it had started to come away from my dress.

  ‘Oh, bloody hell, Lal, you’ve ripped my train,’ I said.

  ‘Debbie!’ whispered Rob as I reached the front. ‘You can’t swear in church.’

  I think even the vicar had heard, as he gave me a funny look!

  Thankfully, I managed to get through my vows and it was a relief to finally be married. Afterwards we had a reception in the church hall and Rob and I had our first dance to ‘Endless Love’ by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie. As Rob wrapped his arms around me and we swayed to the music, I felt so safe.

  ‘I love you,’ I told him. ‘You’re my best friend.’

  I meant it but I still felt so guilty that I was hiding so much from him, and the thought of having to consummate our marriage was preying on my mind all day.

  That night we went back to a lovely hotel in Blackheath. We had the bridal suite and there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket waiting for us. But I couldn’t relax as I knew tonight I was going to have to have sex.

  It’s now or never, I told myself. I had to get this over and done with and prove to myself that I could do it. I necked a glass of champagne for Dutch courage and then got into bed. Rob and I cuddled up.

  ‘I love you so much, Deb,’ he said, stroking my face.

  I knew this was it and I was shaking like a leaf. This was the first time in my life that I had chosen to have sex with someone and I was dreading it. I was worried that it would bring back all the bad memories and I would have a panic attack. Or worse, what if I freaked out and attacked Rob?

  Please don’t let him do the same things that Patrick Ryan did to me, I said to myself as I closed my eyes. I was absolutely terrified.

  I know it sounds crude but I couldn’t bear the thought of Rob being on top of me. I was worried it would make me feel like I was trapped, like I couldn’t get away. So I made sure I was on top. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing but at least I felt like I was in control.

  I let Rob take the lead. I just closed my eyes and willed it to be over as soon as possible. I was so scared that he would sense my fear or say something, but I must have hidden it well.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he whispered afterwards, and I nodded.

  You see it was the truth: it really was OK. Rob had been so gentle and loving and it was so much better than I’d been expecting. I turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears running down my face.

  You’ve done it, Debbie, I told myself.

  It felt like a real achievement. I’d refused to let Patrick Ryan ruin the one relationship that mattered to me. If it had then he would have won. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to enjoy sex but with Rob, I felt safe and loved.

  ‘Are you crying?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Yes,’ I told him. ‘But they’re happy tears.’

  For the first time in my life I had hope for the future. Perhaps now at last I could try and forget the past and finally be happy.

  Chapter 11

  A Mum at Last

  The truth was, Rob had saved me. I wasn’t angry with the world any more. Suddenly I was things that I never ever thought I would be – settled, content and, dare I say it, happy for the first time in my life.

  I was also a woman obsessed. Obsessed with having a baby.

  ‘I want to have kids as soon as possible,’ I told Rob straight after the wedding.

  ‘Deb, we need to save up first,’ he said.

  I’d always wanted to be a mum but I was in such a rush because I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to have children. After being raped at such a young age, I was worried that I was damaged internally. Getting pregnant was the only way to prove to myself that I was a normal woman.

  But I knew Rob was right, so we both got an extra job at a cash and carry warehouse called Makro and worked every hour God sent. In the meantime, I went to see the family doctor about going on the pill.

  The GP took my blood pressure and asked me a few questions. She rattled down the long list – my age, my weight, family medical history.

  ‘From what age were you sexually active?’ she asked.

  ‘Nine,’ I said straight away without thinking.

  The doctor paused and looked up at me.

  ‘Pardon?’ she said. ‘I think I misheard you there. How old were you when you first started having sex?’

  I was completely mortified and couldn’t believe I’d just blurted that out so casually.

  ‘Oh, er, sorry, I mean nineteen,’ I mumbled.

  It was at times like that I realised what had become normal to me was really very shocking.

  Eighteen months later Rob and I had finally saved up enough money for a deposit and we bought a house in Plumstead. As soon as we’d moved in, I threw myself into ‘Operation Babymaking’. I still didn’t feel like I really enjoyed having sex but if I wanted to get pregnant I knew it was something I had to do. But as the months passed and nothing happened, I became more and more convinced that I was infertile. I spent a fortune on sticks that I’d wee on every morning to check when I was ovulating and Rob and I started rowing about it.

  ‘I feel so stressed all the time and Rob says I’m putting too much pressure on him,’ I confided in Laraine.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Deb,’ she told me. ‘It will happen.’

  ‘But how do you know?’ I said. ‘What if it doesn’t?’

  ‘You know Brendan and me had trouble because of my polycystic ovaries. It took us ages to have Jordan but we got there in the end.’

  ‘I know, Lal,’ I said. ‘You were lucky but I’m just not convinced. I really think I can’t have kids.’

  A few weeks later, I was about to go back to the doctor and ask to be referred for tests when I realised that my period was a day late. I rushed out and bought a pregnancy test.

  As I sat on the toilet and stared at the blue line appearing on the white plastic stick, I should have been ecstatic. My dreams had come true. The one thing that I’d wanted for so long was finally happening. But I just burst into tears.

  I was overwhelmed with panic and I didn’t feel like celebrating. I’d wanted to get pregnant to prove that I could, but now it was actually happening and it was real, I realised that I was terrified. What if I didn’t love the baby? What if it was a girl and something happened to her and I couldn’t keep her safe?

  ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ I sobbed to Rob when I showed him the test.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he said. ‘You’re going to make a brilliant mum. You’ll see.’

  I think he was just relieved that I was finally pregnant.

  Slowly I started to get used to the idea of being a mother. But as my bump grew, it was replaced by another fear: I was petrified about giving birth and people examining me and poking and prodding me down below. As it turned out, I was too out of it to care.

  I was in labour for three days at Greenwich hospital. I was in agony but I just wasn’t progressing.

  ‘You can st
art pushing now,’ the midwife said finally.

  For over an hour I gave it my best shot but nothing was happening and I was exhausted.

  ‘I can’t do this any more,’ I cried. ‘I’m shattered.’

  ‘You can,’ said Rob, squeezing my hand. ‘Keep going, Deb.’

  I pushed and pushed with all my might but then suddenly the midwife stopped me.

  ‘No more pushing,’ she said. ‘I just need to call the doctor in to examine you.’

  She pressed a button by the bed and suddenly all of these people appeared.

  ‘What is it?’ I said. ‘Is my baby OK?’

  I was terrified that something was really wrong.

  ‘Your baby’s almost here but it’s stuck in the birth canal and your contractions have stopped,’ the midwife explained. ‘If you push now there’s a risk your cervix could split and you might bleed to death.’

  ‘Do what you need to,’ I said. ‘As long as my baby’s OK.’

  I knew they had to get the baby out quickly, so they gave me something to stimulate the contractions. Finally, with the help of a ventouse, they sucked her out.

  ‘Here she is,’ said the midwife. ‘A beautiful baby girl.’

  As she handed her to me, all my worries about having a daughter melted away. I loved her instantly. We decided to call her Victoria.

  ‘I love you so much, little one,’ I sobbed. ‘I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.’

  Rob was in pieces.

  ‘It was horrible watching you go through all that,’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to lose both of you.’

  He eventually went home to get some rest and a doctor came round to check on Vicky and me. There was a nurse with him and he pointed something out to her in my notes and she drew the curtains around my bed.

  ‘Mrs Grafham, there’s something I need to ask you,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’ I asked.

  ‘Are you in an abusive relationship?’

  ‘No, I am not,’ I said, shocked. ‘I’ve only been married a couple of years and my husband’s the kindest man you could meet.’

  ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Where is your husband now?’

  ‘He’s gone home to get some sleep as we’ve both been awake for three days. He’ll be back later, though.’

  He didn’t say anything else and walked off. I was terrified. I remembered the midwife talking to me about some damage and scarring to my cervix when I’d been in labour but I’d been too out of it to understand. Maybe that was what he was referring to?

  I started to panic. What if they mentioned to Rob what they had found and said it was a sign I’d been abused? I was so scared that for a moment I wondered if I should tell him.

  But thankfully nobody mentioned it again and I was so wrapped up in Vicky, I knew the moment had passed to confide in Rob.

  Laraine came to see me in hospital.

  ‘You’ve done so well, Deb,’ she said. ‘I’m so happy for you.’

  I let her cuddle Vicky but Lal, Rob and Mum were the only ones that I trusted with my daughter.

  As soon as I brought her home, I was determined to be a perfect mother. I was terrified of something happening to her, so I did everything by the book. I breastfed her, bathed her each day, changed her nappies every half an hour so they were never too wet. Friends and family came round to visit but I wouldn’t let them pick her up or even touch her.

  Rob’s mum Shirley was round one day and Vicky was screaming her head off. I was trying to eat dinner with one hand and hold her in the other.

  ‘Let me take her for you,’ she said. ‘I’ll nurse her while you finish your food.’

  ‘No,’ I snapped. ‘Don’t touch her, I’m fine.’

  I knew she thought I was being obsessively overprotective but there was no way that I was going to be parted from my baby.

  Vicky was three months old when she had her second lot of injections. She’d been fine after the first but this time when I brought her home from the doctor’s, she just slept and slept for the next couple of days. I had to keep waking her up for a feed but she wasn’t interested and she was burning hot.

  I panicked and rang Rob at work.

  ‘I think there’s something wrong with Vicky,’ I told him.

  I got a taxi to take us to Greenwich hospital, where we were admitted to Accident and Emergency.

  ‘How long has she been like this?’ asked the doctor.

  ‘Two days,’ I said.

  They did test after test but they couldn’t work out what was wrong. I was hysterical.

  ‘What if we lose her?’ I sobbed to Rob.

  Thankfully they ruled out meningitis but they said they needed a urine sample and as she wasn’t weeing much, they would have to put a needle through her tummy and into her bladder. I couldn’t bring myself to look.

  ‘I can’t bear to watch someone hurting my daughter,’ I said to Rob.

  I handed Vicky to him and ran outside in tears. Hours passed and Rob went home to get some sleep. As soon as he’d left, a doctor came to see me.

  ‘Tests showed that your daughter has a urine infection,’ he said.

  ‘It’s very rare for a baby that age to have something like that so I just need to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  ‘How often is she washed and bathed?’

  ‘At least once a day,’ I said. ‘More if she’s had a dirty nappy.’

  ‘Have you ever left her alone with anyone else?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Only my mum and my husband.’

  ‘Has anyone else who has ever been to the house been left with her?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I told you only Rob and my mum. Why are you asking me all these questions?’

  ‘As I explained, it’s very rare for a baby this young to have this type of infection and we need to try and find out why she’s got it,’ the doctor said.

  Suddenly the penny dropped.

  ‘You think someone’s been touching her, don’t you?’ I gasped.

  ‘I’m not saying that, Mrs Grafham,’ said the doctor. ‘But we need to rule out every possibility.’

  I felt sick. It was like all my worst nightmares had come true. Even though I knew neither Mum nor Rob were capable of that it played on all my fears. I knew Mum would never do that to her own grandchild but for a split second I doubted Rob.

  ‘We’ll have to do further investigations and get back to you,’ he said.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. Rob had been left on his own with Vicky but only when I was in the bath. Even then I used to make him undress her and I’d bring her in the water with me.

  I knew in my heart that he would never hurt our daughter and I felt sick that even a tiny part of me had suspected him. There were more tests and examinations and finally a different doctor came to see me.

  ‘Your baby looks fine to me,’ he said. ‘She’s obviously very well cared for and she has no obvious injuries.’

  It was such a relief but I never ever dared tell Rob about what the doctors had said or my suspicions. I knew he would be devastated that I could even think that about him.

  A few weeks later I went back to see our GP to get the test results from the hospital. It turned out that Vicky had bacteria growing in her bladder from one of her vaccinations. For some reason her body hadn’t absorbed it and it had caused the infection.

  ‘It really upset me what they were implying,’ I told the doctor.

  ‘It’s very rare for such a tiny baby to get an infection like that,’ she said. ‘They have to look at every possibility.’

  But little did she know how it had awakened all sorts of fears from my past. Every so often something like this would happen that would bring it all back.

  Despite my worries, I loved being a mum and I quickly went on to have two other children – Louise was born when Vicky was two and she was followed two years later by a son, who we called Daniel. Laraine had another son too – a lovely little boy called Mitchell – and w
hen he was a year old, she and Brendan finally got married. It was just a small wedding at the local register office.

  We were all happy and settled, but it never lasted for long…

  One day David came round and dropped a bombshell. ‘Guess what?’ he said excitedly. ‘I’ve found our dad.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped.

  It was such a shock even though David had talked about tracing Dad for years.

  ‘I really want to find him,’ he’d told me. ‘I often think about him, don’t you, Debbie?’

  ‘No,’ I’d said. ‘I couldn’t care less after the way he treated us.

  ‘I want nothing more to do with him.’

  I didn’t ever think he was serious, but unbeknown to me he’d been to the Salvation Army and they’d traced Dad and put them in touch.

  ‘He’s got nowhere to live at the minute so I said he could stay with me for a while,’ he told me.

  Typical Dad, I thought. He obviously hadn’t changed one bit.

  David, Davina and Laraine were all excited to have him back in our lives but I was horrified.

  ‘He wants to see you all,’ he told me.

  ‘I’m not interested,’ I said.

  The others couldn’t understand why I was being so horrible.

  ‘Why are you being so mean about him, Deb?’ said Laraine.

  ‘Have you forgotten all the bad times we went through as kids and how awful he was to Mum?’ I asked her.

  I’d certainly never forgotten what he’d done to me.

  I couldn’t believe it when Mum said she wanted to see him, too.

  ‘Why?’ I said. ‘It’s been twenty years since he was last in our lives and we’re better off without him.’

  ‘I’m just curious, I think,’ she told me.

  I could see she was nervous about it, though, and I didn’t want her going on her own.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll come with you for moral support,’ I said.

  David arranged for us to meet him one afternoon at The Standard pub in Blackheath. I dreaded seeing him again but I put on a brave face for Mum because I knew she was apprehensive.

  When we walked in, I recognised him straight away. He was sitting at a table in the corner. Those twenty years had aged him and he didn’t look very well. He seemed frail and his face was all gaunt. It was horrible seeing him again, remembering what he had done to me all those years ago. But at the same time he didn’t scare me any more. How could I be frightened of this old man in his seventies?