Summer 2010. 'Remember that time when you called the police and got him arrested, that was funny'. I froze, my body went numb, I could feel my lips begin to quiver. Keep strong, don't react. I knew not to attempt to speak. I knew no words would come, only tears. How could she, how could my own mother say such a thing? Breathe. Be strong. Oh God I'm going to cry. Weakness. Please don't let me cry. Somehow I pulled it together, changed the subject, made my excuses and left. The tears came as soon as I drove out of my parents' driveway. What a sorry sight I must have looked, driving down the road sobbing relentlessly. The hurt wasn't from the night she referred to; those were only feelings of anger and hatred. The hurt was that my mum, who I love dearly, could yet again dismiss the suffering I and - more importantly - my now grown children had been been subjected to. I have a theory - no real evidence to support it - that my mum can't bear to think of what we have been through so she pretends it never happened and that he is a good man. I hope my theory is correct. If it's not that pain really would be too much to bear.
October 1980. 'I wish John would stop looking at me'. My mate Suzie. Lovely girl, very attractive, very girlie. Very popular with all the blokes. We were on the dance floor and she was drawing attention to herself as usual. I knew he was looking at me really, but I let her continue because it seemed to make her happy being the centre of attention. And she usually was - it was a surprise that someone was actually looking at me when Suzie was around. I knew he was looking at me because I kept smiling at a male friend across the dance floor - and every time I did so he looked over at my friend too. I was doing it on purpose, both to check that he really was looking at me and to make him jealous. Anyway it worked because when we left he asked for a lift home in my car. I agreed and that was the start of our 30 year relationship.
