Broken--I was just five years old when my father abused me and robbed me of my childhood. This is my true story of how I never gave up on hope and happiness by Sara Davies

Author:Sara Davies [Sara Davies]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782196358
Publisher: John Blake Publishing
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

13

Mother’s Men

There was the occasional time when I felt that my mother cared for me. After I’d made many attempts to commit suicide, she sat me down and said that she wanted to keep an eye on me. She then offered to start taking me out to clubs and blues parties again. I was so desperate for her attention that I went along with her idea because being out with her, after a few drinks and a dance with her, was the only time I felt loved by her. If I was working (usually either modelling or doing the occasional bit of promotional work for friends) or out with a friend or sexual partner at the time, she’d go out alone. She started going out again to blues parties almost every night of the week, often not coming home until the early hours.

It soon became clear that things were going badly wrong with Mum’s relationship with Terry. Over New Year, she asked me to go to a pub with her for a party and there we bumped into one of Terry’s friends. Lance gave me the creeps: he was a very violent and abusive man with no morals whatsoever. He had not long been in the UK, having lived in Jamaica all his life, and often referred to this country as a joke. He had a total disregard for the authorities, calling our police ‘pussies’ compared with Jamaican police officers. He regularly told us that he would quite happily kill someone without remorse, and believed he would get away with it.

Many times on my nights out, he’d tried to get me to go home with him and we’d had many arguments because of the pressure he used to put on me to leave with him after a blues party. He once asked me to dance with him in a club, but I was probably one of the few people who wasn’t fearful of him at all and said, ‘Fuck off, old man.’

He laughed in my face and, breathing into my ear, asked, ‘Who do you think you is? Lady Di?’

Then Terry stepped in and told me not to mess with him. Almost everyone was scared of Lance, but for some reason his hard exterior didn’t faze me at all. He called me ‘Lady Di’ from that day on. I couldn’t stand the man, so as soon as I saw him I promptly left the room and tried to avoid him for the rest of the evening.

That night it wasn’t long before a fight broke out: a true cowboy-style brawl, with glasses flying all around the room and people getting barstools thrown at them. Everybody who wasn’t up for a fight was running and ducking for cover. My mother and I got caught up in the midst of it all and things got so bad that at times I couldn’t see her and went into an awful panic. I knew the fight had something to do with Lance; I could feel it in my gut.

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