My True Colours Read online

  My True

  Colours

  A Mother’s Strength

  HANNAH FRANCIS

  AuthorHouse™ UK

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

  www.authorhouse.co.uk

  Phone: 0800.197.4150

  © 2017 Hannah Francis. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

  transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Published by AuthorHouse 01/12/2017

  ISBN: 978-1-5246-7656-8 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-5246-7657-5 (e)

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

  and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  New Beginnings

  Chapter

  A Fresh Start

  New Beginnings

  Chapter 1

  My mother had five children. She tragically lost her first child a daughter at eighteen months of age. The child was born with spina bifida, and she contracted meningitis at ten days old, leaving her blind. She had meningitis again at eighteen months, which ended her short life.

  My parents went on to have four healthy children. My sister Sophie was followed by my brother, Andrew. Then she went in to have her fourth child, and she came out of hospital with two. That was lucky for me because I was the second twin to enter the world. They were thrilled. Mam always told me that God gave her one back. Dad was relieved because this stopped her craving for more children. She named us Lauren and Lorna.

  My father always said that if his dad had lived long enough to see us, then we would have been ruined. Sophie was the apple of his eye, and losing his first granddaughter had broken his heart. Dad was extremely proud of producing twins and often felt the need to tell us that when we were conceived, they did it in the night and in the morning! Who wants to hear about your conception when you’re five?

  Lorna and I were very close growing up. Dad always remarked that he could put money on me entering the room first, and Lorna would soon follow in my footsteps. I was the strong-willed twin and grew up to be overbearingly protective of Lorna. This used to annoy her. I was always the one who wanted to go on an adventure, whereas Lorna was afraid to try anything new. This meant I was the one who always got into trouble. One day a few of us were playing on one of our friends’ dad’s work lorries. He came out to shout at us to get down, everyone else jumped off before me. When I jumped off, I got my knickers hooked on the lorry, leaving me hanging there. Eventually after much wriggling, they tore into shreds, leaving me lying on the ground with scratched knees and a bare bum. Worse still, Mam had insisted on us wearing her favourite outfit, a polo neck jumper. We had several shades with the petticoat pleated skirts. They were short as hell, and this resulted in me having to walk home with my bare bum showing. Lorna had stayed on the bank, watching us, because she was too scared to get onto the lorry.

  That was the beginning of how life went for us. Lorna played it safe and got away with everything. She was never bullied. On the other hand, I was too busy fighting both our battles, keeping us safe, and having fun. It was safe to say Lorna became the popular twin. She was also judged the pretty twin by all, with exception to my grandfather and my dad, who always argued that I would blossom later on in life. I was the ugly duckling!

  The one thing that was positive about Lorna’s laid-back approach to life was that it meant that I got away with most things; she always gave into my demands, which was great.

  When we were young, our parents bought a shop and transformed it into a chip shop. However, because of the potato crisis, apparently we had such bad weather that the price of potatoes went up to seven pounds a sack! Back then, that was a lot of money, which meant that they had to close the shop and rent it out to a Chinese family. The village had a new Chinese takeaway.

  Mam said she was pleased; she hated the bloody place. It must have been bad because she never swore. She said that she was bringing up us four, running a chip shop in the evenings, and coping with a mother-in-law with depression. I knew then that she must be a saint.

  After the chippy closed, we all went to live with our nan – yes, the one with depression. She hated me, and I didn’t like her much either. Granddad had passed away a few years earlier, before Andrew, Lorna, and I were born. Sophie had been the apple of his eye and therefore was also hers. This gave her automatic rights to any decent jewellery and pocket money. Andy and Lorna were also given pocket money, and Nan would hand out ten pence to them and they’d run to the shop. I’d always be left behind with my hand out, waiting for her to unburden her bulging purse with my ten pence. She’d rummage around, pull out two pence, and begrudgingly put it in my hand. Every time it was two bloody pence.

  Good old Mam would hunt around the cushions of the settee and get it up to ten pence for me, always reminding me that she was giving me her last. I knew she was, but when you’re a kid, you don’t care about that. Anyway, my logic was that she should shout at Nan for being so mean. Mam never would; she was far too polite and would never cheek her elders. My mother was brought up properly and used to tell me she was taught to have good manners and respect elders.

  Chapter 2

  My mother’s parents were old when they started a family. Mam was born when Nan was forty, and her brother came along four years later. I think she thought she was on the menopause, but my uncle arrived. I always thought that was a pity, really. I didn’t like him and used to wish the menopause had arrived instead. Nan and Granddad were really old when we were kids, and they both died before Lorna and I reached the age of ten. I can remember their house. It was old-fashioned but clean and tidy. It had a musky smell, and Nan always wore a crossover pinny. They had honeysuckle bushes growing in the front garden and gooseberry bushes in the long back garden. As I approached the house, which was on the top of a steep hill, I could smell the honeysuckle. Mam always made us smell it because she loved the scent.

  Nan was an excellent cook. There were always fruit tarts and cakes on the table. I can remember sitting on her lap and touching her cheek; it was like a peach, and I used to ask her how her skin was so soft. She told me that she always washed her face in cold water. I have copied her ever since. We were six years old then. I liked my mother’s mam and she liked me.

  Mam said that Granddad must have had a soft spot for me and Lorna because he kept a photo of us in his wallet. We were the only twins in the family. Mam was never his favourite; he doted on her elder sister. He always told Mam that when she was a child, they’d leave her in the garden to scare away the crows, whereas he always had to be careful with her sister because she was so pretty someone may try to steal her. This understandably left Mam with little confidence. I don’t think he ever knew how much that hurt her as a child. She never got over it, and it affected her for her whole life.

  My mother was a kind, loving person. She doted on us and Dad. She enjoyed the household chores as much as anyone could, and alt
hough she didn’t have new furniture, it was of good quality and our home was spotless. Her children, her husband, and her home were her main priorities, and in that order – and Dad knew it. They never argued as such, but they bickered constantly, usually about silly things. We always had food on the table, a warm bed, and a great Christmas.

  Dad used to say that if Mam ran out of potatoes and eggs, and if the tin opener broke, we would starve to death. Occasionally the posh relations from Dad’s side would surprise us with a visit, giving my mother a day’s notice of arrival. Dad would tell them that was the only time she spring cleaned. Mam would be fuming! It was funny, though: he was a joker and everyone knew it. Everyone dreaded the constant onslaught of jokes, and if anyone in the room laughed, we were done for because he’d reel them off all night.

  During the holidays, Lorna and I had great fun. I was starting to get her to be a little more adventurous, and we were climbing trees and going on adventures, exploring the fields and the park behind our house. It was a recreational grounds, and there were tennis courts and a bowling alley there for the older people. We had great fun on our bikes and played tennis on warm, sunny days. We started making friends and would be out all day. Mam didn’t mind; she was glad to get us from under her feet.

  We became friends with a girl called Lucy. Lucy lived with her brothers and her dad; her mam had left them all for another man. I could understand why because her dad was weird and had a funny accent. Lucy said he was brought up in Kent.

  We didn’t like her dad and could tell the feeling was mutual. We would meet Lucy at the tennis courts, and because there were three of us, we had to take turns playing. One would be ball girl and wait on the sidelines, like in Wimbledon. One day a man approached us, and he said he was the park keeper. At first we thought we had done something wrong, but he said that he had been watching us for a while and wondered if we would like to go see his collection of birds; he had an aviary on the grounds, and he told us all the local children were allowed to visit. We thanked him, and he walked away then turned around and waved at us. He seemed like a friendly man. When we told Mam about it the next day, she didn’t seem happy about it but wouldn’t say why. We started to visit the birds and reassured Mam that it was OK, because the man had a son, a girlfriend, and a baby granddaughter living there as well. They were really nice, and the baby was lovely; we used to play with her.

  The park keeper’s name was Vic. Going to see the birds became a daily event, and it meant that even on rainy days, we could go out. Mam didn’t like Vic or the fact that we were always up there, and she wondered why he didn’t mind. He made an effort to befriend my parents by planting spare flowers in the garden for them, but she wasn’t convinced. I overheard her talking to Dad one evening. “I don’t know about that guy. Why does he want young girls up his house all the time? It isn’t right.” Dad told her to stop worrying because Vic seemed OK. We agreed with Dad. What was she concerned about?

  About six months later, Vic went away on holiday to Belgium with his friend. When he came back, he gave us some chocolates, and we shared them out between the three of us. I thought they were OK, but personally I preferred Cadburys.

  Vic started to get more birds. He bought lovebirds, and they were pretty. He explained that they couldn’t live on their own because they had to have a mate. He also bought a chinchilla; it was so soft and cute, and all three of us would race up to see it every day after school. It was only a baby, and we loved him and called him Harry. It was like having our own pet shop. Mam was scared of birds and rodents of any kind, so we knew we wouldn’t be allowed any of these pets in the house. We had a dog, but she was old and boring in comparison. The aviary was an old greenhouse at the back of Vic’s house and doubled as a den. We loved going there because we could do anything. He used to give Lorna and Lucy fags, but I didn’t like smoking. He let us try alcohol as well, but I didn’t like it; it was lager and tasted disgusting.

  When it was raining, in order to kill the boredom, Vic started suggested we play games like I spy or hide and seek. This started to become a routine. Sometimes he would find us straight away, and other times he’d take ages.

  When he found us, he thought it was funny to tickle us. If I was hiding in an awkward place, he would help me down, sometimes touching me in my private place. Sometimes he’d slap me on the bum as a joke. I didn’t think anything of it. It was Vic, and he was only messing about. Life went on as normal, and we were eleven years old.

  Lorna and I were preparing to start comprehensive school. We had our new uniform and were telling Vic all about the visits to our new school. He started to complain that we would forget about him and get boyfriends. I thought, Well, yeah. What’s the big deal? I thought it was an odd comment. The next day, I went up to feed the birds before Lorna; she didn’t feel well but said she might come up later. I was there for about an hour when Vic arrived. I was telling him that I’d fed the chinchilla. I was looking at the lovebirds, checking whether they needed water. Vic started to tickle me. I tried to pull away but was laughing at the same time. He then tried to pull up my skirt and grab at my groin. He held me tight, put his mouth to my ear, and said, “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

  I could feel the bile rising in my throat, and I somehow managed to scrabble free and run home, terrified. I ran upstairs, sat on the bed, and felt numb. Suddenly everything was sinking in. The tickling games were rude, naughty, and disgusting, but I hadn’t understood. Still, I knew what those words meant. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach, and most of all I felt dirty.

  Mam entered the bedroom and asked if I was OK. I told her Lorna and I had argued. This was my secret – I couldn’t tell her or anyone because I felt so ashamed. Lorna and Lucy came to look for me, and I told them what had happened. Lucy said he had touched her as well when we were playing hide and seek. She said we should tell someone. I replied, “No way!” The thought of anyone else knowing was too much. I swore them both to secrecy that day, telling them that if they told anyone, I would kill myself. I meant it, and they both knew it. This changed me forever.

  Chapter 3

  Lorna and Lucy continued to visit the birds. I begged them not to go, but Lucy didn’t care; I think she liked the attention. Her father never bothered with her at home, and her brothers were older than her and busy with school and girlfriends. Lorna told me he never touched her, and I believed her. Nothing ever happened to her – it was always me. I wondered, Why me? What is wrong with me? Lorna didn’t understand what I was going through. She used to ask me to go back up there with them, and I’d tell her, “No fucking way!”

  The thought of it used to make me feel sick, but I also worried that I couldn’t protect Lorna. She didn’t care about me or what I was feeling. She said he was asking about me all the time. I would tell her to shut up because I didn’t care, and I wished he’d drop dead. Lorna still didn’t get it. I’d beg her and Lucy to stay away from there, but they wouldn’t listen; the free fags were too much temptation. This meant that I spent most of my evenings and weekends alone. I decided that I didn’t want any new friends anyway. I felt like a freak and was afraid that they might sense that I was weird and so scared that everyone could tell what had happened to me.

  My parents concluded that I had hit the stroppy teenager age early, and this was their explanation for my odd behaviour. My dad used to work weekends on a market stall, selling curtains and cushions, and we had to help out. This was the only time I left the house apart from going to school. The stallholders were friendly enough and gave each other discounts on goods.

  The long summer days on the market were busy, and I used to observe people and wonder how girls could have boyfriends. Surely they didn’t want boys to touch them. I concluded that my mother must have wanted children really badly to do that! How she managed it four times with my dad amazed me. I’d watch the young girls going into the backs of vans with the market stallholders and having love bites all over their necks
. They were disgusting, just sluts. I warned my dad if I ever saw him talking to those girls, I’d tell Mam.

  Dad always said there was no harm in looking so long as he didn’t touch; that was his humour, but I’d call him a pervert. I didn’t mind Dad, and he was quite funny – so long as he didn’t touch me at all. I was fourteen years old.

  School was a chore. Lorna mixed in well with her classmates. We were separated as soon as we started the comprehensive; the teachers thought it would help us to grow as individuals. Lorna had loads of friends. I found it hard and preferred spending time alone; it gave me time to think about things. Lorna would always look for me at lunchtime, and her friends were nice enough, but I was in a higher set and was alone during class time. I quickly learned to stop fighting in the comp because my arch-enemy from junior school had three older sisters who attended the same school, and she was chomping at the bit to fight me, knowing they would by waiting on the sidelines to join in. My excuse was that she should grow because up fighting was for kids, and I was past all that now. They were the school bullies, and everyone hated them but was too afraid to admit it.

  I hated my classmates because they were snobs. The girls from my junior school often commented that I was like a lost sheep without Lorna by my side. They were right: she was my safety blanket. When she was there, I didn’t need friends and only needed her. However, Lorna didn’t need me and flourished on her own. She was nice and always was the popular twin. I was the freak. I styled my hair so it was spiky and wore make-up to school. I had my own style, and I loved it. My weekly pay from the markets went towards a good haircut and clothes. I saved for everything, whereas Lorna spent her pay on fags and the fruit machines. My hair was my crowning glory. I could do anything with it, and it was nearly black and shone. I’d sit in the bedroom, blow-dry my hair, and practice putting on make-up to perfection. I started to enjoy my job at the market because it got me out of the house on the weekends. Due to Lorna’s nagging, I had started bothering with Lucy and her stepsister Jenny; we used to hang around with a mixed crowd of different aged kids every evening.