Free What Daddy Did by Donna Ford Page A

when he had to reprimand me he did it without really looking at me. Did he just switch off? Did he believe what Helen told him, that I was bad? Or did he just not care?
     
I have very mixed feelings about my Dad. I always wanted his love and approval but I thought he was a weak man. He was controlled by Helen when she lived with him, then when she left, he was controlled by drink. Was he an alcoholic? I don't know. He claimed that he went out to the pub because he needed adult conversation; he claimed he needed a drink to relax him. He didn't go a day without a drink so I would say that he was definitely dependent on drink, and if being dependent on drink deems you an alcoholic then, yes, that's what he was.
     

     
When I was a little girl, I wished that someone would come in and save me, take me away somewhere nice, look after me and love me for ever. It never happened. When I was older, looking back, I wished that someone would just hold my hand and go back in there with me and stop me being scared. I want people to know how bad it was because it happens to so many children, and it shouldn't.
     
This genre of books has been widely criticised for its value or purpose. However, writing my story has been a saviour for me. It wouldn't work for me to talk about what went on with a stranger. I have worked things through in my own way because that is right for me. I know there are many wonderful organisations out there that offer excellent counselling services, and people must look at all of their options and choose what is right. For me, though, writing is my method of healing. I write the memory down, and by doing that I am able to think about what went on, and I am able to see that I am away from all that now. I can apportion blame where blame is due. I can look at how it has affected me personally, and ultimately I can move on.
     
And moving on is something I want to do so very badly.
     

Chapter Eleven

     

N ELLIE AND M ADGE
AUNTIE NELLIE WOULD BE SO proud of me, I just know she would.
     
Auntie Nellie was my Dad's aunt, technically my great-aunt, a title befitting such a magnificent lady. In The Step Child I told the story of Auntie Nellie and how she was my greatest influence back then, the only light in some very dark days. I still sometimes comfort myself with memories of how she would take me out once a month to Jenners for high tea, and to Marks and Spencer's to buy me school uniforms. Nellie had been a headmistress and was a fine, gentle, elegant, well-travelled lady. She introduced me to books and education – she was the greatest inspiration of my life.
     
I lost her through no fault of my own when Gordon made me steal her purse and put all of the blame on me. Nellie couldn't forgive that because, for her, stealing was such a heinous crime. She died without knowing the truth about what really went on, but I have never forgotten her and her teachings. I carry her with me always.
     
Many of the women I admire and respect in my adult life have an element of Auntie Nellie in them; they are sophisticated, cultured and unmistakably good people. It may seem odd that Helen allowed me the privilege of contact with Auntie Nellie, but she did it for one reason and one reason alone – the reason that was always most important to her – money. Auntie Nellie had a house in the Clinton district, a smart Edinburgh suburb. She had plenty of money and would be leaving it as an inheritance to someone. Helen probably assumed that it would be left to me as Nellie was always fond of me. She also no doubt assumed that I wouldn't see a penny of it, as she and my Dad would have full access to it. However, Helen didn't want to leave anything to chance, so she usually sent her eldest son, Gordon, with me when I went to visit. Presumably, she thought she was covering all bases, and that Nellie would become fond of Gordon too, and leave money to both of us. Only a mother could be so blind. Helen had turned Gordon into an obnoxious,