What is the date you began writing this memoir and the date when you completed the memoir? I began writing my memoir ‘An Innocent Girl’ in January 2010 and completed it June 2020. My husband and I were fostering teenage boys at the time so I fitted in writing when I was able.
Where did you do most of your writing for this memoir? And please describe in detail. I did most of my writing in a spare room where I kept my computer. I typed as much as I could and saved it to documents so I could continue writing again at the next opportunity.
What were your writing habits while writing this memoir- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? I found the best time to write was early mornings, before anyone else was awake. It was the best time for me as after a good nights’ sleep my mind was sharper and gave me the ability to remember events better. I also benefitted from the peace and quiet at that time of day so my line of thought wasn’t interrupted. My favourite drink was diet coke while I wrote it seemed to keep me going.
Out of all the specific memories you write about in this memoir, which ONE MEMORY was the most emotional for you to write about? And can you share that specific excerpt with us here. The excerpt can be as short or as long as you prefer, and please provide page numbers or Chapter number as references.
CHAPTER NINETEEN – Pages 178 to 181
I DREADED WEEKENDS, especially the weeks when Dad was working nightshift. I got really scared when I knew Sam was going out.
“Will you stay home tonight, Sam?” I asked one evening when Dad was on nightshift. I was hoping and praying he’d say yes. I didn’t want to be left alone with Tim again.
“I can’t, Christine, I’ve made arrangements,” he said impatiently.
“But please, Sam, couldn’t you stay home just for once.”
“I’m not stopping home just to please you, Christine,” he snapped. “I look forward to my nights out, so forget it”
“I was scared and upset. I wasn’t used to Sam getting so angry. “What’s up with her tonight?” he asked Tim.
“Don’t take any notice. “She’s just in a funny mood this evening.”
Sam put on his best aftershave – it turned out he was meeting a girl. As he went out and closed the door, a feeling of dread came over me. I felt sick and my stomach tightened. The sound of Sam’s motorbike disappeared. I was trapped.
“I’m going up to see Mum.” I said.
“No, you’re not. You’re going up and getting undressed. Go on, go upstairs and get undressed.” He gave me a push. I felt sick as I climbed the stairs. I didn’t want him looking at me and watching me. I was sure brothers weren’t meant to do that. When I got to my room I kept my clothes on. I was determined I wouldn’t let him touch me.
“Why haven’t you got your clothes off?” he demanded. “Please, Tim, don’t make me get undressed. I hate what
you are doing to me.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Fine” he said. “Then I’m
going to kill mother”
He stormed out and I raced after him, terrified of what he was going to do. Mum was asleep – she looked completely helpless. Tim picked up a pillow and placed it over her face and started suffocating her. I panicked and did my best to pull the pillow away as Mum woke up and began to struggle, panicking because she couldn’t breathe. I was screaming at him to stop, tears streaming down my face as I tugged at the pillow. He held it down for what seemed like ages, his expression like a maniacs. Then he started to laugh, as if this was a game. Absolute panic must have given me strength because the pillow came apart at the seam.
As the feathers erupted into the room, Tim must have realised he’d gone far enough and removed the pillow. As Mum lay there gasping for air and trying to get over the shock, he started acting the clown. He picked up a clothes peg which was on the mantelpiece and put it on his nose. He made lots of silly faces and danced around the room in an attempt to make light of what had happened. He pretended what he had done had only been a joke.
“Go and get Mother a drink, Christine” he said. “She looks as if she needs one”
When I was gone Tim must somehow managed to convince Mum he was playing and wasn’t really going to hurt her. She was gasping for breath while trying to laugh at him acting the clown. I suppose laughing could have been a nervous reaction on her part, some form of hysteria. I don’t know what she was really thinking or feeling.
He took the beaker of tea from me and helped Mum to drink it. “Is that better Mum?” he asked when she’d finished. She nodded. “Get the dustpan and brush, Christine, and clear away the feathers” he ordered. “We don’t want to leave a mess for Dad.”
I knew he wanted to cover his tracks so Dad wouldn’t know what had happened. “Do you need the bedpan, Mum?” he asked nicely.
“Please Tim,” she said, still short of breath. She looked confused, but he seemed to have persuaded her it was all a bit of fun. He gave her the bedpan and then went to empty it.
“Are you alright, Mum?” I asked. She nodded and squeezed my hand. I was in shock myself with what had happened. Tim came back and put the bedpan under the bed.
“Say goodnight to your mother then.” He told me. “Goodnight, Mum,” I said, bending down to give her a
kiss.
“I’ll look in and see if you’re alright again later,” said Tim. She smiled at him, unaware that what he’d done was to intimidate me into doing what he wanted. “It’s time you went to be as well Christine,” he said as if nothing had happened.
He followed me into my room. “See what I mean?” he said closing the door behind us. “It wouldn’t take much for me to kill your mother. I’d just say she died in her sleep.”
My mind was whirling. “The doctor would know.” I said.
“No.” His voice was cold. “She’s been ill for so long they’d just sign her death certificate. Come on then, get undressed. There’s been enough messing around this evening.”
I felt helpless as he pulled my clothes off. I knew I didn’t have any say in what was happening. I shuddered when his hands touched my skin. I hated him because of what he was doing to me and what he’d done to Mum.
After Tim had gone I lay in bed my stomach churning unable to stop the events replaying in my mind. I was terrified and scared for my life and my mother’s life. I realised that Tim, after doing such a dreadful thing to mother was dangerous. He wasn’t right in the head. I lay awake for ages trying to think of a way out of this situation. I thought about running away but I didn’t have any money and nowhere to go. I even contemplated drowning myself in Gouda, a mineshaft nearby that was full of water. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of my poor sick mother and the fact I didn’t want to leave alone and in danger. Tim had instilled fear in me by saying if I told anyone he’d kill the whole family. I knew he had a gun, a 45 revolver, and felt certain he would really do it. All these things flashed through my mind as I lay tossing and turning. After several hours I must have fallen asleep with sheer exhaustion.
CHAPTER THIRTY – TWO (Pages 295 to 298)
The memory I found hardest to write was when the Matron of the Girl’s Home called me into her office to tell me my Mother had passed away. My heart sank – I gasped in dismay.
“Sit down my dear” said Miss Wilkins, helping me over to the settee. “Do you want a cup of tea?” I felt weak and sank into the seat. Miss Wilkins sat next to me her arm around my shoulder.
“Yes please” I spluttered as my mouth went dry. She rang the bell to summons someone from the kitchen.
“Could you please get Christine a cup of tea?” she asked when Miss Cavell appeared. Miss Cavell nodded and looked sorry for me. I was so upset my mind was all over the place. Thoughts of the funeral raced through my head. I knew Aunty Alice and Uncle Will would be there which reassured me. I felt sick about losing my Mother. I felt it was so unfair, on her, on me … on all of us. I wished she’d never had a stroke and that all this hadn’t happened.
“Aunty Alice wants you to stay with her so you can go to the funeral together” Miss Wilkins told me next day. “You could wear you black skirt and cardigan” she added.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust … Tears streamed down my face as the vicar spoke. It was May 2 1963, a day I’ll never forget. I found the funeral traumatic and stood motionless between Aunty Alice and Uncle Will as I watched my Mother’s body being lowered into the ground. I was aware of Tim looking at me from the other side of the grave. Dad and Sam stood with him, looking sad.
“We’re going back to yours aren’t we Alice?” asked Mum’s cousin. Aunty Alice nodded.
“We won’t come back, Alice, we’ll go home” said Dad as we left.
I needed him to comfort me and felt abandoned by him. It seemed as if he, Tim and Sam had each other while I was on my own. Back at Aunty Alice’s I went to a bedroom and wept into the pillow the whole afternoon. I felt so alone, unable to have contact with Dad or Sam because of the situation. I felt they had closed ranks to protect Tim and I was left to fend for myself.
“We’ll always be here for you” said Aunty Alice, kissing me goodbye before I got a train back to Plymouth the following morning.
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Can you describe the emotional process of writing about this ONE MEMORY? WRITING THIS ONE MEMORY MADE ME FEEL SICK. IT TOOK ME BACK TO THE MOMENT IT HAPPENED AND I RELIVED THE HORRORS OF IT ALL OVER AGAIN.
Writing this One Memory made me feel sad and drained me emotionally. It took me back to when I was sixteen standing at my Mother’s graveside watching her coffin lowered into the ground. I felt sick as the memory of Tim standing the other side of the grave watching me came to mind. After the ordeal he’d put me through I couldn’t bear being anywhere near him.
Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? In the first draft of my book I write 160,000 words and knew it was too many. I reduced the word count doing my best not to lose any important elements of my story.
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