 
Time Tells Tales

Theresa's Tale

By

Stephanie Fletcher

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Smashwords EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Stephanie Fletcher on www.Smashwords.com

"Forbidden Love"

Copyright © 2013 by Stephanie Fletcher

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Stephanie.

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Time Tells Tales

A Novel in Five Tales

Set in Ireland and England in the early 1900's, covering a century, Time Tells Tales is a Novel in five parts or 'Tales'. They explore the history of three families; their interconnected lives are intricately woven together by love, birth, death, and marriage. These lives are spiced up by religion, revenge, scandal, abuse, heartache and spiritual intervention.

The five Tales are told from different perspectives by the characters that drive this novel along to the surprising conclusion, spreading across time, space and dimensions, hence the title - Time Tells Tales.

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Theresa's Tale – Forbidden Love

Quote:

"A man of illegitimate birth shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD; even to his tenth generation shall he not enter into the congregation of the LORD."

Deuteronomy 23:2 The King James 2000 Bible, copyright © Doctor of Theology Robert A. Couric 2000, 2003

## Prologue: The Beginning or the End?

There was one moment of clarity before the bullet hit. How had it come to this? Was she dead? She couldn't possibly have survived a bullet to the brain! Theresa looked down at herself and saw her glazed, lifeless eyes. Was that really her disfigured face, her blood-splattered body? There was no time to dwell on her appearance, as the slow motion picture in which she had been captured suddenly burst into action again, playing relentlessly on, leaving her questions unanswered.

When a hand rested gently on her arm, she turned to see who it was. To her bewilderment, a glowing white light was hovering beside her.

"It's not your time yet, Theresa," said the white light. The voice seemed to be inside her head, or it would have seemed that way when she had a head and body. But she was no longer sure she still owned a human form. "We have some catching up to do," the white light added.

Theresa got to her feet, if indeed she still had feet, and stared at the strange being. What was this - a person, a ghost, or an angel?

All around them the world was carrying on with its business – and although Theresa felt nothing, she was able to see all. She observed her twisted body being carefully lifted and placed on a trolley, the paramedics all the time working like fury on her survival, and at last she was put into the ambulance. Lights and an ear-splitting noise signalled their quick departure, and all to save her – but why? Theresa was sure she was dead. She had an intense feeling of detachment from what was going on. The policemen, paramedics, sirens, flashing lights... All seemed of no importance, and appeared to bear no relation whatsoever to her. Indeed, they were slowly fading away into the white mist now surrounding the apparition and herself.

The apparition spoke again in a calming and relaxed manner, and she felt that the voice was vaguely familiar. It was melodious, hypnotic and enticing – so where had she heard it before?

"Theresa, walk with me. You can return to your body later when I have smoothed things over a little and explained why I am here."

Theresa took a long look at this tall, graceful figure. More clearly defined now, 'he' was definitely a very beautiful (or should it be handsome?) young man, in gleaming white robes and had a shiny glow all around him, like somebody was lighting him from behind with a torch. Theresa was surprised that she could not see wings or a halo! His voice was deep, like the bass notes in a melody, rich and soothing her frayed nerves and laid quiet her tumultuous fears.

But then it struck her, she wasn't afraid of this vision before her, or of what had just happened, for everything had taken on a dream like quality. It did not feel like a nightmare and she certainly did not want to wake up. Her real life held too much horror just now.

Theresa had always expected to die young. No one could live for forty-seven years, mostly in a hell on earth, and not expect a violent end. Indeed, it felt surprisingly welcome. She sighed heavily, knowing only a few would miss her - her abuser; her boyfriend and his friendly little sister. She had no parents, or grandparents, in fact there was not any known family of any kind.

The glowing translucent light surrounding the apparition now encompassed them both like a thick fluffy blanket. It warmed her tired, cold body. (Did she still have a body?), and she felt like she was floating beside the ethereal young man. Now they were rising above the scene of her demise to look down upon it, through the swirling mist. The noise and lights had dimmed, and now she was only aware of 'him'. Before she had time to question him, he spoke again.

"Theresa, I am surprised you do not recognise me. It's David, your friend from the children's home all those years ago. Do you not remember me?"

Theresa slowly shook what she thought was her head. He couldn't be 'that' David, he wasn't dead - or was he? Not trusting the vision before her or what her own 'eyes' told her. She couldn't accept her childhood friend could be dead and now was talking to her from the 'other-side' or wherever it was he came from; it must be her damaged brain playing tricks on her.

"Never mind Theresa, I am sure it will come to you soon. For now I have come to tell you that it is not your time to leave the earth plane as you still have much to give. I am here to help and guide you to a new path of enlightenment and knowledge."

Theresa looked at this angel or apparition of her delirium, with scathing disbelief. He acknowledged her troubled expression with a big grin that spread over his perfect face yet she still could not recognise him as David.

"Oh Theresa! You are not the first or last to look at me like that. I am a little more grown up from your point of view, I suppose." He chuckled like a small child, which made her stare at him all the more. She was so confused and everything felt so hazy; what was going on? Was this really David from all those years ago, in that prison of a home where they shared their dreams and hopes of escape? There was something vaguely familiar about 'it'.

Theresa had never had any particular faith or followed any religion other than that which was forced upon her as a child by those hypocritical Nuns and the Priest of her nightmares. She had always relied on her need for self-preservation and did what was needed to get by. If it meant breaking the law, then the law got broken. She never worried about the consequences to herself or her soul - is that what she was now, a 'soul'?

"In a way, Theresa, you are just your 'soul ' at the moment, though I prefer to say you are 'in spirit', with one foot in both planes for now." David answered her as if she had spoken aloud.

"You, you can hear my thoughts?" she stammered. "Stay out of my head, it's not right, you peeping tom!"

"Okay Theresa, as you wish. I can communicate with you and others, in many ways, through their thoughts and dreams, by images, or by smell. Angels communicate on many levels. I have come to try and prevent you from becoming a lost soul, and guide you back to the path you should be on."

Lost soul? This angel was very well informed as that's what she was called in the many care homes she had been a 'guest' at. They always referred to her as a lost soul. They also called her a bad penny, a bad apple, or a black sheep, inferring that she corrupted all she touched. No matter how hard she tried to run away from these 'homes' she had always ended up back in one or another. Her memories merged in her mind until she stopped caring about what had happened to her on the 'outside'.

A silence descended all around her and a chill crept through her... whatever she was. Theresa reasoned, she was either dead or going mad, or this was all a nightmarish dream. She wanted to believe this angel and that he was 'her' David. Anyway, she reasoned, she had been staring at her own mortal body not five minutes ago, so how could she not believe him?

"You are right; Theresa, time and space are irrelevant for the here and now, for you and me. To coin a phrase, we have all the time in the world, all in this very moment. You need to survive this life and death challenge to grow as a soul. You are the key to a mystery; there are things that you have yet to discover. There is the past which can be healed and a future that will bring you much joy and contentment."

David (if that is who he really was) smiled broadly at her. His image slowly changed and now she recognised him as the young boy who had befriended her all those years ago. It filled her with a strange feeling, a warm fluttering in her stomach, like when she saw her boyfriend Brian. Her boyfriend - where was he? Theresa hoped he was alive still and that he was taking care of her 'mortal' body, wherever it was.

Theresa felt David pull her into his light again and peace flooded through her like a rainbow after a storm. She could feel each colour warming and soothing her spirit.

"It's love, Theresa, something you have been denied full knowledge of and you were just beginning to realise that you could change your way of life. This might sound a bit of a cliché, but I have been assigned to be your guardian angel. Theresa, to you I am David, your childhood friend, and I shall never abandon you. I will come when you call me, not necessarily in prayer, just say my name in your head, or scream it to the universe. I will hear you because we are inextricably bonded. I shall open your eyes to the endless possibilities and the countless choices you have yet to make. To experience true love and joy which as a child you were denied. You were beginning to experience it, to see that change is possible, and that not all people are like all those you have experienced. Theresa I promise you, I will walk beside you and help you to regain the strength you will need. All this awaits you, along with what will seem like insurmountable challenges and chronic pain. I am sorry to tell you, you must now return, Theresa, return to your beaten and battered body, which has miraculously survived."

David began to pull away, his light dimming, the warmth evaporating, and the safety of his embrace all but gone.

"But David - how could I of survived? I am surely dead? I was shot in the head, for god's sake!" Theresa shouted at his fading silhouette. Panic rose inside her as her spirit body screamed out, "David, help me! I'm falling... Oh God, help me! It's so dark and cold. Ohhh! Arggh! David! Please don't leave me; I don't want to go back!"

Faintly she heard his soothing tones, "Have faith, Theresa, have faith, I am by your side always. Now you need to rest, to heal, so you can put your life back together. Survive so you can live the life that was intended for you and most of all - to be loved."

Theresa let herself (or her spirit?) go and felt herself spinning, swirling, until the all-encompassing blackness sucked her in.

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To understand Theresa's life so far and her current predicament, we must visit her in her past and see how her life had led her to the present day and for what reason she was shot.

This is Theresa's Tale.

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Quote:

"I answer that, Children are of four conditions. Some are natural and legitimate, for instance those who are born of a true and lawful marriage; some are natural and illegitimate, as those who are born of fornication; some are legitimate and not natural, as adopted children; some are neither legitimate nor natural; such are those born of adultery or incest, for these are born not only against the positive law, but against the express natural law. Hence we must grant that some children are illegitimate."  Summa Theologica \- Saint Thomas Aquinas

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## Chapter one - Being a Bastard.

Theresa Bennett was born on the eighteenth of May in 1952. It had been an especially warm and sunny day for this new born, but not for her Mother. Against all her beseeching, this tiny baby who weighed no more than five pounds was cruelly and with no ceremony, whipped away from her before she could even see that it was a girl.

Theresa was born a nursing home, in the county of Kerry, in Ireland. It was one of 'those homes' where young Catholic girls who got in the 'family way' were sequestered for the duration. After the delivery of their illegitimate infant, they would be sent back to where ever the Church and their family decided would be the best place for them. There was no discussion with the new mother or comforting words to acknowledge their loss. Instead of the joy and celebration of a new life, they suffocated and drowned in the disdain, debasement, deprivation, and devastation. And then, of course, was the resulting depression to accompany the grief they were not allowed to have.

Parents of these bastard children were often recorded as 'unknown' as was often the case but the young priest who bought Theresa's mother in, named the tiny baby girl. He explained to the Nuns and Priest that the family wanted nothing to do with the baby but had asked for 'it' to be baptised, given a good name and a religious upbringing, and strangely the young priest offered his own surname...

"She is a child of God and shall have a God given name despite the circumstances of birth." He had chosen the name of Saint Theresa, 'of the Child, Jesus and the Holy face'. Saint Theresa was commonly called the 'little flower of Jesus' and she died of tuberculosis at twenty-four, having been a Nun from fifteen years of age. The priest continued, "She may have my surname, Bennett, as I will stand up for her at her baptism as her Godfather".

This was an extraordinary step. The young Priest explained to his superior, Father O'Leary, who was in charge of the home and orphanage, that he had escorted Theresa's Mother to, at the behest of the family. He also had permission from their parish Priest Father Dominic, to name the child thus so they may keep watch over her.

He went on to explain in great length, how he had grown up with Theresa's mother, and how their families were very close. He had a deep regard for her, and respect for her family and even in these unfortunate circumstances, he had promised to take good care of the young girl. It was accepted that she had made a 'mistake'. Someone unworthy of her innocence had defiled her, although it was not clear whether or not she was complicit, it had been agreed her penance would be the loss of the baby.

The priest never left the young mother's side until she had delivered Theresa, and he held the tiny baby with a look of scorn or was it horror? He then passed it to the waiting Nun who hurriedly took the little bastard child away. The young mother was not allowed to even look upon her babies face. She evidently had little regard for the young priest as she constantly accused him of vile acts and her language made the Nun's in the delivery room blush so they were constantly making the sign of the cross.

The young Mother was shipped back to County Kildare to a town called Puncheston. It was here the local priest and family confessor, Father Dominic, and the father of the young girl, Mr Mc'Ginty had arranged a marriage, offering a large dowry of sorts, to her cousin William Bennett. It was against Catherine's wishes, and secretly, as we will find out – the young priest, and younger brother, Joseph Bennett, was none too pleased either. In fact, he was beyond angry; nearing insanity would be a better description of his feelings.

The Nuns, however, were deeply touched by his compassion and charity, for going that extra mile. They told him he had all the makings of a good priest. A good priest? He would have left the priesthood in a flash! He would have cut off his own right hand and anything else it would have took, so he could have married his childhood sweetheart, Catherine Mc'Ginty. However, fate had handed him a twist to this tale, so damaging to his inner core, to his psychi' - that he never, ever, recovered from it.

The pain and loss let out the darkest of demons from within this young priest, Joseph Bennett. If he could not have Catherine, then he would make sure no one but he would ever 'know' her bastard daughter, Theresa. For now he had to bide his time and work on getting posted to St Bernadette's, where Theresa was born and would live for the foreseeable future.

St Bernadette's was a convent; a nursing home; an orphanage and small school, with its own Church and parish priest, Father O'Leary. The Roman Catholic Nuns were trained midwives and teachers, as well as being Nuns. More often than not the children that passed through their hands were the unwanted, the troubled, ill, disabled, illegitimate or all of the above.

Theresa was a scrawny, screaming, sickly, slightly 'disfigured' baby, small at five pounds, and not expected to survive. Father O'Leary as Governor of the orphanage, labelled her not 'fit' for adoption, bearing the mark of her parent's mortal sin on her face. This was a fact the Nuns would delight in telling her as she grew up - repeatedly.

In reality, it was a rather large and bumpy strawberry birthmark embedded into Theresa's right cheek, from her eye to her lips, and it was blood red and angry looking. It made the right side of her face seem longer and fatter than her other cheek giving her a lopsided look. It seemed to drag her eye downwards and push her lips into what looked like a smirk.

The nuns thought she looked so offensive that they kept her from sight when prospective parents came to view the other children. When she was old enough, they would put her in the damp, dark, freezing cold cellar – their punishment room of choice. She would have a candle and bible for company, which made the room even more frightening, with its many flickering images to fuel her imagination.

This was Theresa's first caring and loving 'home'. The nuns called her damaged goods, and the other children, just for looking different, bullied her. The nuns would ignore her suffering as in their eyes it was her cross to bear. It may as well of been medieval times and not the 20th century.

From birth until she was three, Theresa would be put in a cot, out of sight and left to scream her lungs out. Her soiled nappies were changed twice a day, after she was fed, and that was all the attention from the nuns she had. As she grew up, she learnt to toilet herself by following the older children around, she kept her head down and learned not to speak unless spoken too. The older children would hit her, telling her to be quiet, or just because they had received a punishment and they could take it out on poor little defensive Theresa that is until another new youngster arrived and had to be initiated into the regime.

Theresa knew nothing else of the world; she grew up in this solitude, excluded by the other children when playing their games, encouraged by the nuns to 'leave her be'. In their collective ignorance, they did not know that the birthmark, the main target of their ridicule, would fade away as she grew up. At first, it lost its texture and then its colour, until all that remained was a brownish stain - even which, with time would fade away. Her facial expressions improved but she was still picked on. Not for being a recluse, but for being the 'devil's spawn', the favourite name of choice the Nun's had for her, but now at five years old - she blossomed.

The Nuns always cut her hair into a very unflattering basin shape. It wasn't just because of the head lice that were rife in these homes. It was because her hair was a lovely shade of Auburn, like the setting sun, all orange, red, and gold. It had a natural curl to it as well, which framed her face, no matter how awful the cut was.

Theresa bore the same sprinkling of fairy dust, freckles, as her father (Alfred) had, but with the soft honey dewed skin of her mother (Catherine) with her bight, sky blue eyes and full rosy red lips. Theresa did not realise any of this herself, she still felt ostracised, worthless, and dirty. Now she was being bullied for becoming pretty! The nun's would say "another of the devil's tricks \- to fool a man's eye's and keep him from the truth of her origin of being a bastard child!"

There was no television or radio for the children, or anything for them to do, other than the domestic work of cleaning, washing the clothes and the like. Of course there was Mass, prayers and singing which Theresa loved doing in the little church, even though it was cold and full of quite frightening images, she felt safe in there.

The school attached to the convent in the village, was also called St. Bernadette's, and it was the only school for the local community and the outlying rural area. Children of all ages, from five to fifteen attended, and numbered less than two hundred in all, not including the children from the orphanage who were thrown in amongst them, like meat for the lions. Eventually when Theresa was old enough to attend school, she hoped she would be able to escape her torments just for a short while. She would try and loose herself in her lessons, in her books and avoid the bullies at playtime as they now had fresh meat to taunt - plenty of new 'little bastards' to play with.

Where there had been no 'playtime' as such, in the orphanage, at school she could freely mix with children in the playground, including those not from the orphanage. Nevertheless, because of her appearance, her second hand raggedy clothes, her ignorance and inability to socialise properly, she was still treated as an outcast. Ignored by all but a few of her classmates who dared to say hello to her - or rather were dared to say hello to the 'devils spawn'\- the name calling had followed her.

As time went on, Theresa started to stand up for herself. Something in her snapped, she had reached her level of tolerance, and she let loose her 'demon', believing what the nuns had installed in her. She retaliated by fighting and shouting insults at her 'enemies'. She was disruptive and rude to her elders, and lashed out in any way she could. Theresa learnt to build an impenetrable wall around her.

Those first years were full of beatings and the Nun's would lock her away in the damp, dark cellar as punishment, but it became her friend, a place she felt safe in. Theresa also spent her younger years on her bended knees, asking for forgiveness for her 'sins' under the watchful eye of the young priest who had recently been assigned to the parish. He was there to aid the elderly Father O'Leary until he retired, and came regularly to the orphanage to give religious education. He helped to prepare the children for Confession and Holy Communion and he would take them to Mass in the little church.

Unbeknown to Theresa, this young priest, was the same young clergyman undergoing his vocational education and training, under Father Dominic in County Kildare. It was he who had took her Father, Alfred Rooney, to the port in Dublin and sent him on his way, with warnings never to set foot in Ireland again. He also accompanied Theresa's Mother, Catherine Mc'Ginty, from her home in County Kildare to this very convent, across the breadth of Ireland in County Kerry, to give birth to her child. Catherine had rejected his love for her and he caused such a scandal with his inept, lumbering attempt at love making with his twelve-year-old cousin. Instead, she had willingly given her virginity to the butcher's boy, Alfred, whose bastard baby she bore.

Father Joseph, on his ordination into the priesthood, requested the position at the church of Saint Bernadette, to aid the ageing priest there. He was also the younger brother of William Bennett, who had married Theresa's mother, Catherine, on her return home and became quite rich for his 'charitable' act in the process.

There was only Father Joseph who knew the entire story and had all the facts of the love saga of Alfred and Catherine, even Father Dominic didn't have them all, or his brother, or Catherine's father and certainly not Catherine herself or that exiled scum, Alfred, the little bastards true father. No, it was all part of his plan of revenge!

He had remained in contact with the Nuns of St Bernadette's, as Theresa's Godfather, and when the opportunity arose he quickly applied to be posted there to aid the elderly priest but his real intention was to 'guide' his god daughter in person. It enabled him to become close to Theresa, to develop his friendship with her as he had plans for this little bastard child, treated so badly by the Nun's. It would be to him she would turn to receive absolution. Yes, all was going to plan. As Sherlock Holmes said to Dr Watson, "The game is afoot!"

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## Chapter 2 – And On To Home Two

Theresa had strong resilient streak that lay within her and she would use it to protect herself. It gave her the courage to react in anger and gave her a desire to hurt the people who hurt her. She wanted them to feel the pain and humiliation that she suffered daily, and it was often demonstrated as she lashed out with either her fists or her tongue.

Theresa felt betrayed by her Mother and Father and the family she did not know, but also by God and his brides of virtue, the Nuns - they were supposed to care for her. It is no wonder her stay at the orphanage only lasted until her tenth birthday. Good Catholic families had already adopted most of children she had grown up with, or so she was told. In fact, it was more likely they were shipped abroad to Australia or placed in 'apprenticeships', which were more like forced labour camps.

"No-one wants you!" The Nuns would tell her, and Theresa would shout back at them with as much venom she could muster...

"Why? Because I'm a bastard and so you lock me away? Or is it because you would lose a slave?" and they would reply...

"No it is because you are too weak, too disgusting, too corrupt and evil for a good Catholic family."

Theresa had heard this many times before and it still hurt but she would not let them know that. She would shrug her shoulders, walk away, gesticulating her feelings with her middle finger raised alone on her hand.

"An old soul on young shoulders", the new Priest Father Joseph, would say to the Nuns. "It is that of Beelzebub for sure, to have created this diseased creature with a soul so black with rage within an innocent child. She may have recovered her features somewhat, from that hideous form that she was born, but still - definitely the work of the Devil. I have much work to do with this child if I am to save her soul."

Father Joseph had watched her struggle with her disfigurement and the reactions it bought out of the other children. "It will either be the making of you, my child, or it will destroy your soul, if you let it. Be strong and find it within yourself to forgive those who would hurt you. It is their shame - their sin." He was probably the only person who treated her with any kind of 'loving emotion'. He gave her hugs, a simple human contact that she had never experienced before. He would sit her on his knee to hear her confession, in his private rooms.

"It's to help her be more open and unafraid", he would say to the Nuns, and he did this for all the boys and girls who were troublesome to the Nuns or Teachers. He called it 'counselling'. "It is a new psychological therapy for the disturbed, for mental problems, and not just for the soul," he explained to the ignorant Nun's, and the elderly priest; Father O'Leary, at dinner one evening. They were all more than happy to let him try to 'redeem' these 'lost souls' and amend their behaviour and especially that of his goddaughter, Theresa Bennett.

Theresa was not to know, that all his 'loving', this new therapy, was not what a young priest should have bestowed upon her, or on any of her fellow inmates, as she called her brothers and sisters at St Bernadette's 'home for the unwanted'. Theresa thought from the age of six until she reached her tenth birthday that he was comforting and consoling her. That his acts would save her mortal soul so one day she would be forgiven and would be able to enter the gates of heaven.

Father Joseph told her it was love, a very special love that only a Father, like himself, an advocate of Christ, his loyal servant, could bestow upon her. Theresa felt privileged and safe, even when she was sent to the cellar for some misdemeanour or the other, she knew afterwards she would get to sit on his knee and be loved in that special way. Theresa truly loved her Father Joseph.

She was happy, while he said prays over her, for the redemption of her soul, to take the 'thing' from out of his trousers, from under his robes, and play with it, as he told her too. It was a special loving act and it was very important for her absolution to get it right. He would stress to her - it must be a secret. That only God and she could share in, or else it would not work.

It made her feel wanted - it never ever made her feel uncomfortable. How could she of known it was not right and proper, or a good thing? Theresa had no reference point, no education about sexual matters, even as she grew from six to ten, she was ignorant, but very good at keeping their secret.

When Father Joseph said she had been good, he treated her to her favourite sweets, a real luxury if it was chocolate, while he put his fingers in and out where she went to the toilet. Sometimes this hurt; it was not that nice either, but she did not know it was wrong, and he was always so pleased with her and the sweets made it all the easier for him to do as he wanted.

As Theresa got older she began to question him, but she did not think to ask him to stop. He loved her, didn't he? She was special to him, and he told her this often. Somehow, it buoyed her up when being put down by the Nuns or the other kids. She would just smile or rather smirk and nearly reveal their 'secret'. She wanted to push it in their faces and shout, "Somebody does love me!"

Theresa thought her 'Father' as she now called him, would never hurt her deliberately. He carried on with his 'loving' therapy, trying many different new ways as they must get it right to work and his face would get very, very red, and he would say the Lord's pray and then a Hail Mary, over and over... By this time, they were having full sexual intercourse.

All of a sudden, one day in May 1962, just as Theresa had her tenth birthday, Father Joseph was gone. The home was closed down, and all the children were sent far and wide, all over Ireland. Theresa found herself in another Catholic run home, not that different to St Bernadette's, it was called St. Josephs, and was in Dublin itself. It was a school, a home, a hospital, and 'asylum' for children with 'condition's' that could not be coped with in the normal social care or school system. In other words, she was sent to the bottom of the barrel for the 'unwanted'.

In later years, the memory of those earlier times at St Bernadette's with her beloved 'Father' would make her physically sick, and her anger grew inside her like a vicious viper, ready to one day wreak its religious revenge.

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## Chapter 3 – David and Escape

The next four years of her young life were spent at this new home but unlike the orphanage, where the Nuns saw to your everyday needs; this was more like a school you slept at. It had a special hospital wing where many of the kids who were the most rebellious and naughty disappeared into if they played up too much, pretty much like the cellar at St Bernadette's. Theresa soon became aware of what went on in that wing and after one visit in there, she vowed, never again!

This new school had lots of different teachers to teach them and they had special classrooms allocated for each subject they were to learn, depending on their age. Not like before when they all sat in one room, regardless of their ability or age, or whether they did the work or not. She had definitely learnt how to be quiet, seen but not heard, unless one of the tyrant nuns decided her quietness was laziness and then - off to the cellar she would go.

The matron ran the home part just as the nuns had done - with a cast iron ruler. Theresa knew it was best to keep her head down and do as she was told. The head master who supposedly ran the school, was a pipe smoking gentleman with silver grey hair, of undeterminable age, but very old in Theresa's eyes.

He had a grimacing, ugly face, with this stern and frightening look, he would walk the halls, bellowing orders, and swiping out with his cane at any kids he caught doing something they shouldn't. Theresa did not want to be one of those kids he caught, as they were punished on the stage in front of the whole school, with the slipper or his favourite cane, at assembly that they had to attend first thing every morning.

As the school had a hospital wing, they were assigned a nurse to see to their everyday mishaps. She was very fat and had a smell of cake or soft new bread about her, and she would give them hugs and loves, and would "kiss it better" as she would say. She was always run off her feet and complaining about her bunions, whatever they were. Theresa felt sorry for her, as there were so many accident-prone kids or kids ill with the normal childhood ailments, to look after.

Then there was the kitchen and a proper cook. Theresa loved the mealtimes and had never had such variety of meals and puddings. She could not believe how many of the other kids complained about the 'stodge' that was porridge, or the lumpy mashed potatoes or bullet like peas which would fly around the dining hall occasionally, off the back of spoons, targeting anyone they found 'different'. Theresa had her fair share of these offering's and would be quick to retaliate, if the dining hall monitors were out of sight. The other 'normal' kids, as she would refer to them, soon moved on to some other target when they realised she was not afraid of them.

'Normal' kids were those who attended the school and had one parent, sometimes two and they could be called a family. They were dressed differently in nice new uniforms, unlike hers which was more than second-hand, vastly repaired beyond its real usefulness, and highlighted her as being vulnerable, poor, and more often than not, without a family.

It was no surprise to Theresa that she was labelled as 'not academic'. Her previous education left her short of the required level of skill in the three R's. She could read okay but her spelling and maths were dismal and therefore she was sent down the home economics route. She realised, in hindsight, they had done her a favour.

She especially loved cooking and they were allowed into the busy kitchen, in-between meal times, to practice baking and learn about cooking vegetables. This was fascinating to Theresa, who had never appreciated where all her food had come from until now. She was now learning the ordinary lessons to prepare her for independent life instead of the religious led institution into which she had been born. They had only worked on keeping her down and out of normal society, focusing on her sins and mortal soul.

There were some social workers and the Priest from the Church, with all the other important staff, who would decide what, was best for each child in their care. Many children came and went, and a few that did not, they were always there, like her -unwanted, alone, and forgotten.

Theresa did not feel 'special' here, she missed her Father Joseph and their 'sessions', and she was increasingly worried about her mortal soul. Had she done enough to be saved? Would she be allowed in heaven now? How was she to find out without her 'Father' to help her? Why had he abandoned her?

Nothing really changed, Theresa was treated much the same as before, laughed at, ridiculed, and abused. The religious insults did not come so often, instead of wicked devil child she was called 'unmanageable' or 'self-absorbed' depending on what she had done, by the teachers, 'hard to handle' and 'un-teachable' by the headmaster, and 'a poor little wee thing' by the school nurse. She was the one who she really liked and whose big bosoms would suffocate her, when she was crying or sick. It was as if she could make it all better by hugging and squeezing the last breath out of her. For Theresa it was as near to having any 'motherly love' that she was ever going to get.

"Your just misunderstood my wee little puppet, we will have to learn to be quieter and hold our tongue, won't we now?" said the amiable Nurse Flanagan, as she was giving Theresa her first ice cold bath on that special wing.

It was a punishment for taking the Lord's name in vain on several occasions, whilst beating an older girl with her fists for calling her a 'spaz' and a 'bastard retard'. The girl in question was sent home, proudly showing off her black eye to anyone who wanted a look. As Theresa would not repent or apologise for her behaviour, it was off for an ice bath to cool her temper.

This 'punishment', with Nurse Flanagan (who secretly thought they were wrong to do this) was better than the cold, damp cellar but nothing like the other kind of 'love' that she received at the hands of Father Joseph when he worked on her bad behaviour, saving her soul, except there were no sweets or chocolate afterwards. Theresa was so mixed up about all the emotional stuff so the wall she built around her was now cast iron, all-encompassing and the door to her emotions was bolted shut.

Then she met David. He was a Jew, like Jesus, and never tired of telling people so. Well, those who did not punch or kick him, but just looked at him with hatred and disbelief. To him, they were ignorant kids who listened to stories of the Second World War, and of course, the part Jews played in it, and therefore he was treated like an instigator of the atrocities. David had lost all his grandparents in one of the horrific camps, like the notoriously famous 'Auschwitz'. His parents escaped to Britain and then to Dublin as they had family there, or so they thought, but his mother was very ill and died when he was only two. His father did his best to find their relatives with no success so when he succumbed to the dreaded tuberculosis he left his son an orphan, no home, no family, no money – so into the system he went. He was ten years old.

Someone had written 'Catholic' on his papers where it had said religion and 'Jewish' where it said he was born, but nobody wanted to listen to him when he tried to explain. He was a problem they wanted to go away. They would tell him, he could go on one of the last boats being sent to Australia if he wanted to but being a Catholic seemed the easier option, so he shut up.

David was dark haired, olive skinned, with a big hooked nose and he was two years older than Theresa at twelve, but much smaller, in every way. Height, weight, head size, shoe size, in fact Theresa often wondered if he was one of snow whites' seven dwarfs.

"He is just small for his age." Nurse Flanagan told Theresa, when she had asked about David. She was worried about him being so thin; in fact, he was malnourished and sickly. He always had something wrong with him, a cold, the mumps, German measles, all the childhood illnesses plus a few he should never of got like genital herpes, a present from an older boy at his previous home.

Theresa did not know what that was, whilst they were growing up together, but she did know that, he too had his virginity and earliest happy memories, sullied and stolen by somebody who was supposed to love and protect him. It was not until much later on in their life journey, when their individual paths remained intertwined, that Theresa learnt the full horrors of the 'sexual abuse' she had undergone at the hands of her so called 'Father'. David filled her in graphically, on the facts of life, explaining it in language she would understand, and not how it was written in books of the time.

Her realisation of the truth of what she had experienced with Father Joseph, that it was not love, and in no way could it ever be mistaken for love, that it had absolutely nothing to do with saving her mortal soul - made her even angrier - at everybody. Theresa became bitter, cynical, distrustful, and hateful of any authority and eventually this realisation twisted her persona so much so, there may not have been any hope of it ever being repaired sufficiently to allow her a normal sexual relationship.

Theresa gave up on the idea of love and with it her desire for motherhood. How could she ever have a baby of her own, or be a loving and caring mother, when she had never experienced it herself, and her only real experience was of a dirty, disgusting, pervert priest and a fat cake smelling nurse with big breasts. No, she decided it was never to be.

However, Theresa and David bonded like brother and sister, more than best friends, but never lovers. At this time they had both had enough of all things physical, sexual and their relationship never progressed further than holding hands, and hugs to comfort and reassure each other that they would never be alone - they would always have each other. Oh, the innocence of childhood.

By the time Theresa was fourteen, they had they managed to stay together at Saint Joseph's for just over four years - until the year David turned sixteen. Whether it was luck or destiny, a path already designed for them they did not know, but they were very grateful, as they had seen many other children come and go in that time. For one reason or another, it was the most stable period in both their lives and they did not want it to end.

They had both been in trouble countless times for fighting, for stealing, for smoking, and there were many reasons that they could have been separated and punished, but somehow they survived. Even David, who went to the notorious 'special' ward in the hospital quite a few times, but he always came back much to the relief of Theresa. He told her that mostly they chucked you in a 'cell' and deprived you of food, heat, light, or of any comfort. If you did not admit to your crimes, your sins, and repent, there was always the ice bath's. Theresa nodded here remembering her bath of ice. David said the one he had nearly killed him because of his bad chest, but they don't care if you get ill and die, so now he repents as quick as he thought it was believable, or you could end up still being chucked in the bath for lying.

Finally, and unluckily for David, he was caught with their 'stash', of fags (cigarettes) which they would then deal to the other kids, making as much money as they could without getting caught. An older lad who had left the home a year ago set up this 'trade' with David and he would now smuggle packets of fags into the church where they went to Mass on Sundays, hidden in a place that only David and she knew, behind the statue of Saint Theresa.

This tickled both of them, the saint she was named after helping them in their ventures. They both did it, smoked to survive, as they told themselves, but it was David who was caught and punished as he was caught red-handed, whilst they only suspected Theresa was involved because of their friendship, but they had no proof. David was sent to a 'Borstal', a young offender's prison and Theresa did not even get a chance to say goodbye. She never heard from him again or ever found out where or what a 'Borstal' was. In her world - he just disappeared.

It was only by chance that David was caught and not herself, as she was as equally guilty, but on that particular Sunday she was ill with flu and in bed, so David had gone alone. They found that smoking helped them to escape their reality and de-stress, it calmed her 'demon' down she would tell David, remembering what she had been called before. She did not know much about fags or alcohol for that matter, but she trusted David.

They stole anything, and everything, to get the money that they then used to buy more cigarettes, which they then sold individually at school. It was a very lucrative business and they did it to fund their escape plan. For nearly two years they had been selling fags to the other kids, and had avoided capture. They scrimped and saved until the escape fund was over £200! To them it was a fortune! (In 1966 it was.)

It was well hidden, in small notes, in the lining of Theresa's small backpack. The one 'gift' she had, beside her new found love of cookery, was that the nun's had taught her how to sew, and she did it well. She had managed to insert a false lining into her backpack and hide many a thing she did not want discovering and now it hid the escape fund. With David gone, it all seemed useless and futile, but Theresa was not one to dwell on things she could do nothing about - time to move on and carry on with the plans they had spent many a night formulating.

After the fag's incident, and David's hurried removal, the home tightened its security. Theresa decided to lay low for a while and toe the line, so no residual suspicion came her way. It worked. With Christmas round the corner, the home was light on staff and some of the children were being shipped out to foster homes, and for once, unbelievably, Theresa was included in this number.

She was sent to an experienced foster couple called Janice and Patrick Mulholland, along with two other younger girls, sisters, whose names she could never remember. They were not important, snivelling cry-babies, but they gave her the chance that she needed to escape. Whilst settling the cry-babies down Janice and Patrick, were distracted enough for her to slip out the back door with her little backpack and small suitcase and disappear into the night.

* * * * *

## Chapter 4 – Rescue and Revenge

Just as David told her, Theresa followed 'the plan' to the letter. She walked as far as she could until she reached the main road to Dublin and then hitched hiked. Sticking her thumb out and holding a rough sign telling the passing drivers, she needed to get to the docks. It was a frightening experience for Theresa as she never had this much time out in the big wide world before but David's plan was drilled into her and she was soon inside the cab of a big articulated truck which was heading for Liverpool.

The driver said he would smuggle her over to England if she paid him fifty quid. Theresa agreed making sure; he understood there would be no other kind of payment on offer. It was now she really missed David and his cheeky confidence, he would have handled this better, but at least she was on her way to him. They had agreed when making 'the plan' that if they got separated they would meet up in London, in Trafalgar Square, so that was where she told the driver she needed to be. At first, he asked many questions of her. Where did she come from, was she running away, how old was she and would her family be missing her? After she had given him answers he seemed happy with, she closed her eyes and fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming of David waiting for her in London.

When she was shaken awake by Bob the driver she was amazed to find herself on the ferry already. Bob had chucked his big trench coat over her and no one stopped or asked him who or what was under it, they were lucky he told her. Getting off the boat would not be as easy as customs in Liverpool would check his cargo and cabin. He told her to find a couple on board, who had kids with them and tag along with them.

That was easy enough and she soon found a rowdy family of four kids, one a baby in a buggy, a young lad of 4 or 5 and two girls about 10 and 14, with whom she struck up a conversation. She stuck to the family like glue, the parents only asked her questions about where she was from, where she was going, but nothing she couldn't answer with a well told lie. They had their hands full with their little kids and were content at least one of their kids was occupied and quiet.

The older girl was called Lizzie and Theresa couldn't help herself telling her such a story about her family, how rich they were, how bad she had been, rebelling against their strict rules and that she was being sent to a boarding school in London to finish her education. Lizzie hung on every word, believing it all, even though Theresa's clothes were old fashioned, not clean much like herself and they smelt of stale tobacco from the drivers cab and body odour as she hadn't had a chance to bathe in days.

Theresa was just impressing her with a story of how she was an actress and had done many stage plays and pantomimes, when her parents called her over as they had to go down to their car and get ready for departure. They said their goodbyes and off they went.

Theresa swore to herself as she waved them off. She had not considered they would have a car, as a foot passenger she had to go to a different deck to get off. All that talking had made her thirsty and the smell from the café that she had just passed made her stomach growl. Theresa knew she didn't have much time to sit down and eat so she got a tray and collected a variety of packaged food which she guessed would have to last her for a while.

As was her education from David, for everyone item she put on her tray, she also snuck one away into her ever-faithful backpack. If that backpack could talk it would have some right funny tales to tell! Unfortunately, for Theresa, the woman who was sat at the cash register spotted this odd behaviour and challenged her to empty out her bag.

Theresa panicked and was about to run off when a man wearing a uniform of some kind grabbed hold of her by the arm. He roughly pushed her into a seat whilst tipping out her backpack for all the passengers walking past to see. She was mortified, would they call the police? Was she going to go to jail for a few sandwiches and packs of biscuits? She hoped it would be a Borstal and she would find her David there. She was so tired and hungry.

She opted for the silent stance – not giving out any personal information and constantly looking for a way out. The officer who had searched her bag and her person, found no ticket and no money. He put everything back into her bag except the food of which they let her have a packet of four biscuits and a bottle of coke. He did his best to question her, but Theresa kept her head down looking at the floor, nibbling on a biscuit, and praying for a miracle.

It seems God was all out of miracles for stowaways and she was led off the ferry to the docks, straight into the hands of a policewoman and a suited gentleman with a posh briefcase who told her he was from social services.

After much talking, some frustrated shouting and demanding her name, Theresa was placed in yet another 'home', this time in Liverpool, England, until they received her records from Dublin. Silently she was laughing at them, records? As if there were any! Theresa didn't even have a copy of her birth certificate never mind a passport that they kept asking for. To help them a little, Theresa gave them the name of a school, which she had never attended and a made up name of someone they could call. That should keep them off her back for a while, it's not like anything was done at any great speed in Ireland she thought.

Saint Jude's was another orphanage, foster home come school, with more Nuns and a religion she had lost faith in years ago. There had been no discussion with the now tight-lipped Theresa so her Catholic upbringing was presumed, as she was obviously Irish. Now all she had to do was re-group, keep her head down, stock up on food and clothes again, pinch anything which might come in handy or was worth selling, and take the first chance she got to get back on 'the plan'.

Father Joseph had been de-frocked in the October of 1962, for much the same reason as before when the Catholic Church had covered up his reign of abuse at St. Bernadette's. This time he was caught up to his old tricks, at St Jude's, the very place Theresa had just landed up in, but luckily by the time she was placed there, he had long since left in disgrace.

Theresa was thrilled he had been caught and punished. She listened eagerly to the young novice Nun who was attending to her grubby condition and sorting out 'new' second hand clothes for her. As they talked, the Novice cut and styled her hair for her. It was the first time ever Theresa had had her hair done professionally, as the novice was a qualified hairdresser before she 'got her calling' to be a bride of Christ. She kept going on about the colour of her hair, its thickness, and its beautiful curls.

When the Nun had finished and Theresa saw her new image for the first time, she felt a sense of awe; she did not recognise herself for a moment. The novice had styled her hair so it touched her shoulders and framed her face, covering the last brown remnant of her birthmark. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for her since David, the school nurse, and the family on the ferry.

The young novice could not tell her of the details of Father Josephs disgrace but said the older Nuns were very suspicious of his behaviour. A young girl of thirteen in their care had become pregnant and it was not found out until she miscarried and confessed everything. It was said there was not enough evidence to convict him, as the girl admitted to having sex with more than one of the older boys in the home. She also told of Father Joseph and his 'special therapy' \- his way of giving absolution.

Circumstantial evidence was not enough to convict him under the law and send him to prison, so the police dropped the case. However, the Catholic Church sat in judgement of him, taking into account his behaviour at the previous homes and he was de-frocked with a full excommunication. The process and stigma of excommunication was humiliating and degrading for him, a total embarrassment for all his family back in Ireland, who promptly renounced him. Now he could never return to Ireland, as he would not be welcome.

What rumours there were, in place of the facts, had already been blown out of all proportion. It was well-known gossip that no one would have blamed any man or any parents who stood up against this heinous priest and deny him of further existence in this mortal world. The ex-Father Joseph especially didn't want 'other' things from his past catching him up, fuelling more rumours, and giving more reason for some mad Irishman to reap revenge upon him, in the eyes of God, of course. Joseph wisely disappeared.

Social services in Liverpool tried to get Theresa moved back to Ireland, but by the time they had it arranged Theresa had moved herself on. This is how her life went for a year or so, she would be picked up for vagrancy, for truancy, for possession of cannabis, a drug she had been introduced to in a recent home, and then finally - prostitution.

The authorities would come up with any plausible reason to incarcerate her in a jail cell, then another home, or put her with foster parents who didn't stand a chance. Theresa always ended up back on the streets, alone, learning some lessons she should never have had to learn, but she did what she had too - anything to survive, to find David, to get to London, to Trafalgar Square. She would never give up on him, the one truly good person in her life.

Theresa spent her sixteenth birthday, on the May of 1968, on the streets of London. She was sleeping rough, desperately trying to keep out of the way of all the drunks and druggies, unless she was trying to score a bit of relief for herself. She steered clear of all the old men and old women, who smelt like a mixture of piss and vomit, and anyone in authority who might take her in again. She slept in doorways, ate in cafés or MacDonald's, paying with what she either stole or 'earned'. The fund in her trusty backpack hadn't lasted and Theresa was scared that this was it for her – a life of crime and sex with dirty 'pervs', with a dash of 'weed' to ease her pain.

Through this relatively terrible existence Theresa was chased, she was spat on, she had coins chucked at her, and she felt destitute, abandoned yet again - but this time by her own doing. Fate was not playing her game; destiny had sent her down a wrong road, it was a blind alley, seemingly never ending, and she didn't know how to get out of it.

Days became weeks and weeks became months, it was now December and bitterly cold and wet. She was about to give herself up to the authorities, instead of facing another night freezing and starving, when a seemingly familiar face, with an Irish lilt to his voice, spoke to her. "My child, it's never you under that layer of dirt?"

It took a few moments for full recognition to hit her in the face like one of those horrendous ice baths; the fear froze her body ridged. Before her stood the priest of her early childhood, who had said he loved her above all else, from the orphanage she was born in – it was her abuser.

He was not dressed in the priest robes that she remembered and his face was saggy and lined his eyes sunken and black. The vision before her was of an old man yet he could be no more than forty. (He was actually only thirty-four.)

"Father Joseph?" Theresa gasped, shaking with fear and yet in some perverse way, she was grateful – just for a second. He helped her up from a shop's fire exit door, in an alley where she had set up for the night, along with other 'lost souls' as it provided some shelter.

"What are you doing in London, Theresa; tis you is it not? And why are you alone and sleeping rough? What has happened to bring you here, what are you running away from?" Joseph asked of her, in a seemingly concerned manner.

Before she had time to answer this barrage of questions, he was gently guiding her, out of the alley, away from her temporary home, out into the street where at nearly every other lamp-post, stood a young girl and the odd 'girlie' looking boy, obviously selling their wares. It was prime time as it was nearly midnight, and they were not short of punters, cars were slowly driving past each one until they spied something they wanted.

Theresa did not condemn them for their profession; she herself had stood there, when desperate and earned a living, hurrying away when the pimps came round. It was no surprise to her that her nemesis, Joseph, was cruising in this area. So why was she letting him take her from her night on the ice-cold street into an unknown end in his car?

"Can I ask where you are taking me?" Theresa said shivering, hugging herself, her hands already blue with cold.

"Don't worry Theresa, my dear, I wish you no harm. Firstly, I promise I will take you to a hostel, get you to somewhere warm and some help. Then if you are agreeable I would like a chance to explain a few things to you and ask for your forgiveness. I would like to make amends for the sins I committed against you."

Theresa backed away, shocked and angry. Joseph saw her face but continued, "I know I do not deserve it and will understand if you cannot find it in yourself to trust me, but I swear on Mary, the mother of all mothers, I am a reformed and penitent man, who has paid his dues for his past sins and has lost his calling to the cloth. I have been excommunicated, Theresa, my God has abandoned me. Instead I walk the streets to gather the 'lost souls' and aid them to seek redemption and help them to walk a new path in light and love."

He sounded sincere. Theresa looked at him, looking for any signs of deceit, clutching her backpack to her chest, her heart beating so fast she thought she would pass out. Her head was spinning from confusion and lack of food and the argument she was having with herself in that split second she could not resolve. What difference would it make now, she told herself, all the money that she and David had elicited from innocent people was gone, and she was still no nearer finding him. Life had been awful without him, sleeping rough, cold and hungry and alone, totally alone. What would it matter if she went with him? He might even help her to find him. What was the worst that could happen?

"Okay, Father Joseph, I will come with you and take your offer of help, but you are right - I can never forgive you." She spat this last phrase at him with all the accumulated disgust of those years, remembered daily, of all the abuse at his perverted hands.

"My sweet child, you do me a great honour, I will not cross you or deceive you, I promise. Let me attempt to right the wrongs and put your soul and your faith back together, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and the Holy Spirit, let me do this one last thing for you." He replied, doing the sign of the cross, as if that mattered to her - it meant nothing.

Theresa climbed into his battered car and so began another adventure, one that eventually would teach her a lesson she may never recover from. For 'Father Joseph' was indeed collecting souls. Souls he could sell for a shit load of money and he needed it to buy his freedom from the crime bosses and drug lords that he had got mixed up with after his demise and exit from the church. He had begun drinking heavily, gambling away all his savings, seeking the oblivion, the kind that only drugs can provide.

He ended up deeper and deeper in debt to these ruthless men, but they were very keen for him to work for them. By using his 'ministry' to illicit young girls and boys, with the tales of redemption and the saving their soul, of a new, bright and loving future, when in reality they were being 'groomed' for the sex slave trade.

Oh, these poor, poor souls that would end up working hard, lying on their backs for the pleasure of men; all kinds of men; who liked all kinds of perversions. Joseph was sure this coincidence was pre-ordained, a sign from the Devil, as it definitely wasn't the other bloke! Theresa would fit right in at his 'sanctuary', his hostel and home for these lost souls. With a bit of encouragement and guidance, he would soon have her eating out of his hand.

Even with her disfigurement that had faded with age and was now only a faint brown cross on her face, Theresa had a tiny slender body with a good sized bosom, a redeeming feature, with some experience too from the smutty way she was dressed. She had all the promise of a budding flower ready to bloom and would be worth a few hundred knocked off his debt. Joseph looked across the car to the passenger seat and saw the little child he had molested in the name of salvation, staring back at him with that smirk, a smirk that would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life, as at the same time Theresa faced her bullet, he would face his.

* * * * *

## Chapter Five - The Waiting Room

Theresa saw the nurse fiddling with a tube in the back of her hand and a lot of people in green gowns with masks. The lights were bright and were pointing over the body on the operating table. She guessed that's what it was but it was difficult to say from the position she held. She was viewing all this commotion, as through a thick piece of glass, the image and sound were not quite clear enough to make out what was going on - for that she was rather relieved. Theresa was enjoying the fact she was not in her body again but floating high up, near the ceiling. There were no windows in the theatre, which was a pity really as she could have floated away, putting all her troubles behind her. What were they doing to the wreck of her body?

She didn't want to look at it any more, she felt disjointed and disembodied, like it didn't have anything to do with her now. She was happy no one was bothering her; she was free from all that had gone on before the moment that had landed her in this situation. She was invisible, pain free but alone. Her memories of those moments 'before' were now cloudy, obscured, and just out of reach. Theresa felt as if she had forgotten something really important. Why was she in this mess? Where was David? Had she imagined it all? Was it a freaky dream?

"I wish I was outside" she said out loud, well, she imagined she had. "Do you hear me, I want out of here, I can't watch this anymore!"

With a big whoosh, she was outside, or rather on the roof of whatever building she had landed on. She was standing, not floating now, and she could feel the gravel under her bare feet. It was cold, spiky, and very uncomfortable, but this was nothing compared to the vision in front of her. She shivered, goose bumps covering her- well, whatever she was now. "David? Oh my God, David, it's so good to see you again, I thought I had dreamt it all up."

Theresa ran, or floated quickly, she wasn't sure which, into his open arms. They held onto each other for what seemed like an age. "I can feel you now, David, how is that possible, am I dead now? I hope I am." She said smiling at her best friend.

"You're not dead silly. In fact at this moment you are being operated on by some of the best 'neuro' surgeons this country has to offer. It's me that's dead, my friend, and that is why you can hold onto me. Before, at that scene of your shooting, you were unwilling to believe or accept the truth of the situation so I had to wait until you were. I am really happy to be with you again, Theresa." David said giving her a big hug.

"You're dead!" she gasped, truly shocked to her core. "I never heard of you again, after you were taken away, other than you were taken to a Borstal prison. I didn't know what to do or where to look, but I stuck to our plan David. I got caught loads of times, and it took ages to get to London. But because you spoke of it so much, I thought I would easily find you there. It was so much bigger than I imagined, and so many people, so many different kinds of people, all wanting something from me all the time, and then I got so lost..." Theresa began to really cry, for the first time ever in her life, tears of real grief and sadness instead of anger and frustration.

"Now, now Tee, (this was his pet name for his little 'sis') this isn't like you, come on now, let's sit down under this tree and I will tell you everything that happened to me while we were apart." Theresa looked around, indeed the rooftop and spiky gravel had gone and they were stood in a field of Irish green grass, a beautiful meadow with many wild flowers of vibrant colours and exquisite perfumes. In the middle of this vista was the biggest, oldest, gnarled oak tree she had ever seen. Its branches were spreading out, reaching for the sky and dipping to the grass that stretched upwards as if to shake hands with the leaves that rustled as if they were chattering to one another in excited conversation, and together they all waved to the sky in happiness, accompanied by the birds that sang in a beautiful harmony. Theresa had never seen or experienced anything so beautiful, peaceful and yet so invigorating. She was stunned into silence.

"Where are we David? Are we in heaven?" Theresa said pulling herself together as she was very excited to understand what this vista meant for her.

"No Theresa you're not dead. We are in the place that lies between life and death, heaven and earth, and it appears to all in different vistas. It's a waiting room of sorts. Does it please you? Do you need anything else?" he asked, invitingly.

"Well..." she thought for a moment. "It's missing a babbling brook and a little deer running around, being chased by rabbits...." she said teasingly.

"Look again, Tee." And indeed there, in her vista, was a little brook trickling through a reed bed and on its banks was a deer and its fawn, a 'Bambi' look-a-like, taking a drink, and madly hopping around like a lunatic, was 'Thumper', the rabbit from that Disney film she loved so much as a child - Theresa laughed out loud.

"Oh, David that is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!"

They sat down together, holding hands, on the bank of the brook, in the shade of the tree, in this perfect setting, to talk about the horrors that each of them had experienced since their time in the home in Dublin.

"Theresa, I was lost without you. They caught me just after I had picked up from the hidey-hole behind Saint Theresa on that Sunday you were ill. Remember? A sore throat and bad stomach I think. Anyway, I had a large stash of cigarettes on me for which I could give no explanation so I was convicted of stealing, but because of my age I was sent to a young offender's prison they called Borstal back then.

I fell apart. I was sure they had caught you too but it was the 'not knowing' that was the hardest. That and I couldn't handle the empty space you left beside me. I was sucked into a paranoid psychotic depression and I tried to kill myself rather than stay in jail. They pumped me full of drugs but I still thought everyone was my enemy; was out to get me; make me confess to things I couldn't remember doing. I truly lost it, Tee. I ended being up transferred to another kind of home, one where they treat people with mental disorders. Yes, you may laugh...I went to the nut house!"

Theresa couldn't help but giggle at this as they had always said to one another if the going got so bad they couldn't handle it any more, there was always the nut house, and they had even made a pact on it.

"David, I had forgotten, when I ran away, I forgot we agreed to go mad..."

"It wasn't your path to tread, Tee, it was mine, my learning curve, and something I needed to experience." he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"Why am I feeling so guilty then?" Theresa asked.

"It isn't guilt; and in no way were you responsible for what happened to me. Only I can claim the guilt for my actions. Your sadness is your desire to share in my guilt and I can't let you do that. You have to learn we are all responsible for our own actions, even when we were forced and still perpetrated a crime, if we knew it was wrong, we have still committed a sin. We were culpable by our actions, for not standing up and shouting NO! NO I won't!"

David saw Theresa was still puzzled.

"Okay, let me put it another way. When you didn't know right from wrong, in your innocence - then you were blameless. The sin would lay with the perpetrator and the person who was responsible for you. The sins of childhood lie with the parents, guardians or teachers, but at some point you realise your self - this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing or saying this or that. Then you are the guilty one - it is your sin."

How wise David had become. He made it so easy for her to understand. "David, I am scared. I have so many sins to account for! Will I go to Hell? Am I damned like the Nuns used to tell me?"

"No Tee, I am glad to say it doesn't quite work like that, but I can't tell you anything else. It isn't your time yet; you have plenty of time, plenty of living to do, to right some of those wrongs, to balance the books. I, on the other hand, have had to 'account' for the sins in my meagre existence. I am here with you now, as part of my, well, shall we call it my penance? My absolution depends on your rehabilitation"

Theresa nodded as if she understood all of that, but there was something else which was more pressing that she needed to know.

"David, can I ask you something, something I need to know?" she stared deep into his eyes, not wishing to upset him.

"You want to know how I died, yes." He had guessed.

"Yes, I'm sorry, is that okay?" she said, with sadness. Theresa lovingly, stroked his face, which was so young, so fresh; no black marks or bruises as she remembered.

"It's only natural, Tee, for you to ask but I warn you now, it wasn't pleasant for me, so please don't be shocked and remember, there was absolutely nothing you could of done, it's what I signed up for."

"Signed up for?" Theresa looked worried and bemused at her friend, part of her didn't want to know now, but curiosity was her downfall, and she needed closure.

"I'll explain that another time, but for now, my death - here goes". David pulled her close, and with his angel arms around her, with this beautiful vista in front of them, he began to tell her of the most horrific part of his short life and the quick, selfish ending of that very life.

"After the transfer from Borstal to the nut house, things did not get any better. The doctor's pumped me full of drugs, all kinds, and lots of pills which kept me quiet and zombie like. It was found, on testing my blood, that I had the HIV virus. I hadn't a clue then what it was or how I had got it. Apparently, as I know now, it was some bad blood I was given when I had my appendix out. Unfortunately for me, blood donations were not checked as rigorously as they are now, and as HIV and Aids were only just becoming news worthy as the 'gay' plague, it did me no favours. Because of my HIV status, most of the orderlies and nurses avoided treating me, if possible, just in case I lashed out or injured them and past on the infection. They were very ignorant of the condition so most of the time I was strapped to my bed, or to a wheelchair in a state of semi-comatose."

"Oh David that is so awful..."

"They would call me faggot or bender, wrongly assuming that as I had HIV therefore I must be gay. They were terribly ignorant of this virus and full blown 'Aids', and there wasn't much treatment or drugs in 1970, especially for some teenager in a mental institute. I was eighteen and no one was interested in taking an interest, therefore I didn't get much counselling or psychotherapy like some other inmates did. No trips out into the big wide world for me, I was a forgotten entity, shoved into a private room, isolated, with not even a window to look out of or a TV or radio to keep up with current affairs. No books or magazines either, they took away anything that might be stimulating from me. I think they hoped I'd give up and die but I liked the cocktail of drugs they gave me, they took me out of myself and I tripped out in my own mind. When they began to wear off, I would hallucinate, hear voices, so I would cry out and scream. I broke my straps many a time with what they said was in-human strength, and crawled or staggered round the wards, my legs were weak from lack of use, and it was on one of my 'trips' that I broke all records for escape, not that I was trying."

"David this is so terrible, I had no idea..." Theresa was trying her hardest not to cry, but the tears betrayed her and cascaded down her face like a waterfall in full flood. David did not try to stop her remorse. He knew it was cathartic and she needed to grieve for him. He continued gently...

"I think I was looking for the drug cupboard but instead I found the door to the stairs that led to the roof. It should have been locked and afterwards no-one knew why or how it had been left open. The key was found to be where it always was, locked away in a cupboard in the manager's office. No one could explain how a teenage boy in my weakened condition, got up the twenty odd steps to another door, also usually locked, then haul himself out onto the shingle and gravel roof, but I did, in my zombie-like, hallucinating, painful state. I managed to get to the edge where a small wall ran round the flat roof, stand on it, and yes, I threw myself off."

The pair sat silently, David allowing time for Theresa to absorb this harrowing information. The deer and fawn had disappeared from their vista, Thumper had long jumped away, and a cloud of greyness seemed to encompass them both. Apparently their mood had altered everything before them.

"Do you need more time Tee? Shall I continue?"

"You mean there's more? You didn't die?"

"No Tee, it was an end to the pain and the dreams, and it was a blessing, a relief, but even though the building was three stories high, I didn't die, not then, not straight away. I was dutifully rushed to the nearest accident and emergency room, who were too understaffed and ill-equipped to handle my complicated mashed up body, so I was transferred to the nearest hospital that could do something for me. I remember drifting in and out of consciousness. Unlike you Tee, no angel came to me, no bright lights - just peaceful darkness.

It was several weeks before I fully re-joined the land of the living to find I had lost my right leg below the knee to septicaemia and the nerves in my spine were so damaged it was thought I'd never walk again. I had severe facial scarring that made me want to scream when I saw it for the first time. I know I was no 'looker' before, but this made me want to die all the more, and to top it all, by the time I was ready to leave hospital, six months later, I was drug free, so this time I was making the decision totally, totally clean. There'd be no mistake either, no near miss, or not enough pills. I was resolute on a spectacular exit to finish my un- spectacular life."

"Oh David that is so sad.... I wish I could have been with you... I would have stopped you, you know, somehow..."

"Try to see it from my viewpoint, Tee, I was alone, unloved, no-one cared whether I lived or died, and you were a distant memory. A happy memory of happier times and it made me all the more sad and resentful. Oh and so, so angry with the world at large, but let's continue..."

David and Theresa hugged and she could not help a tear or two for all her regrets, and for David's life she missed. She felt like she was drowning inside, in a big pool of heartache.

David continued.

"It took me another six months to plan and complete my suicide. By this time, I had been taken back to the home again where everything soon slipped back to how it had been before, except now I had regular trips to the hospital for physiotherapy. I was told the likely-hood of my being able to walk on my one surviving leg was good, if I exercised. They fit me with a prosthetic leg, and they worked and worked on me. At first I feigned disinterest, and made no effort to help myself, which they put it down to severe depression. It wasn't far from the truth, except, when I was alone, in my private prison of a room, I exercised, and staggered, and learnt to limp round my room, with one crutch. Why, you may ask, if I intended to end it all was I secretly trying to get fit, to walk again?

It was a ruse for them to stop the close suicide watch they had on me. They thought I was drugged up and docile, where in reality I was acutely aware of my surroundings. It soon worked, and they stopped watching me. I found that by using my pain it kept me totally focused on my task in hand and visiting hours provided me with all the cover I needed.

It was a Sunday, the day most patients had someone come to see them and the staff were more lax at these times, taking a step back - using the opportunity to hide away in their office and watch TV, have a cuppa and a chat. I had secreted away some clothes and a coat so I could make a discreet exit, walking now without any of my 'aides' that would have given me away. I slipped out un-noticed and stole the first car I came to in the car park that wasn't alarmed, and old enough for me to break in and start it. It had been years since I'd done this and I was very pleased with myself, even with my legs not at their best, my driving was spot on and I was sure no-one had noticed.

My plan could now be put into action, no holding me back this time, I would do it right and all my pain and despair would be over. I was excited, like I hadn't been in years, it was almost orgasmic, the feelings that I had, and the anticipation. I drove straight to the bridge I had chosen, which I had picked out from an old AA road atlas I found lying around in the hospital, and made sure there was only a short walk for me to negotiate. I hoped it would be quiet on a Sunday afternoon, as I didn't want any witnesses or good Samaritans trying to talk me out of it.

I had picked a footbridge crossing the main railway line, where the fastest trains made their way into London. It took me some time to negotiate the steps, but my determination was great. It was an old footbridge and un-like a lot of the new ones, it did not have an all over protective fence to prevent me completing my plan. I did not have long to wait.

I must admit I had no thought for others, to those that would find me, or parts of me, I was totally focused, full of the revenge I would have on my 'prison' keepers and all those who had hurt me or abused their responsibility of me, neglected and maltreated me.

In the suicide letter I had posted to the local paper, to the police, to social services, and those that ran the nut house, I made sure the blame was placed on their doorstep. It was a good feeling knowing my death would shine a light on all the abuse I had suffered from different carer's. I named and shamed.

Strangely enough, I had a big smile on my face as I heaved my useless body over the handrail and totally unceremoniously I threw myself on to the track smack bang in front of the next high speed train that came along. I did not fail as you see, Tee, I am here with you now at last released from that existence, penitent, yet happy and I now get a chance to redeem my sin of suicide by helping you overcome your trials and tribulations by encouraging you to be the best you can be, to find love and hang on to it, and not to end up as snuffed out light as I did."

Down below on planet Earth, Theresa in her hospital bed recovering from surgery, smiled, but it went unseen by the nurses and those who stood around her bed. She felt safe in the knowledge David was with her. Whatever lay in front of her now, she had help and righteousness in the form of her Guardian Angel David and God was on her side of the fence for once.

After what seemed like an eternity just sitting and watching the scene in front of them, Theresa slowly absorbed all the horror of what David had shown her, her own private viewing of his life in 3D.

Your turn now Theresa, come on spill the beans... I know of some of the things that got you to where you are now as I have watched over you." David said encouragingly.

"If you watched over me how come I never felt you, or saw you, and why did you not help or warn me?" Theresa replied with a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"This is how it was explained it to me by my guardian angel. A lot of what you go through in life, you 'sign up' for, so the angels and especially guardian angels, have to stand by and watch, only guiding you through any difficult decisions where you wavered, and by answering your prays. They make sure that you stay on the right path for you. Unfortunately, because of this, I was powerless to protect you. It was very difficult to see you suffer so much, Theresa, it broke my heart many times but you pulled through, always making the best of any rotten hand you was dealt."

Theresa hugged her angel David; so glad she could actually 'feel' him. "Thank you David, I am so glad you are here to help me. Other people can't see you - can they?" she queried.

"Nope silly, especially not here, this is our special place - just for us, while we are waiting for your body to heal. This place is timeless, a few minutes here and a year has passed below.

When we 'angels' visit the earth plane, people do not see us unless it is necessary for them too, or if they have evolved and are enlightened enough or already have the gift of second sight, then they will sense or even see us. There are psychic and clairvoyant mediums that can 'speak' to the spirits who have passed over, bought forward by their own guardian angel, who come to give assurances to their loved ones. That is if they are open enough to accept and believe in the afterlife, but for those who are not sufficiently aware or if they are closed and have no faith, or are sceptical and cynical, then they do not get any comfort from this kind of message passed on by a third party. In their minds it is all a hoax, a fraud, they are just well meaning people taking advantage of people's grief, and profiting by it." David explained to her, Theresa nodded with agreement and understanding.

"I have always believed that God could not possibly be so cruel and vindictive, like the Nuns told me daily, because that's not what I felt inside. I knew he was an all-loving God from what I have read and taught myself. It is human being's that are cruel and use God and his words to their own ends." She said with conviction.

"You are very intuitive and wise Theresa, as your teachers used to say to you, 'you are an old soul on young shoulders'." They both smiled at this and David gave her the biggest, most comfortable, loving hug ever.

"Is my body okay, David? Do I need to go back soon?" Theresa said quietly not wanting the hug to be her last.

"You are still thinking of time like a human, Tee! We are outside the constraints of such earthly things. You will know when you have to return, so please don't worry. Talk to me." he said squeezing her hand gently.

"Okay, let me see, so you want to know what happened to me in the thirty three years I was in the hands of 'Father' Joseph." She said his name with such venom. "What have I done with my life of forty seven years to what date is it now?"

"Hmm... from your point of view, it is still 1999, the cusp of a new century, but as I said, time is irrelevant here."

David knew it was going to be bad but he needed to hear it from her, so she could accept her fate and move on to the next stage in her life, which he knew would bring her so much more love and the happiness she deserved. To him it seemed like minutes since he saw her last, at fourteen years old, but here she was now, saying she was forty-seven, but looking just the same to him as when they met as children.

"Yes, Joseph was the priest you told me about when you were in the orphanage, the one who abused you and you didn't know what sex was until I told you?" David reiterated, encouraging her to visit these past experiences that had hurt her so much.

"Mmm... Yep, that's the bastard who 'raped' me persistently. I am sorry to swear, David, when I am such a beautiful place, but it makes me so angry! He is why I died; I mean why I'm lying down there in a coma, or whatever that it is."

"We'll talk about coma's and what's going on down there with your body when it is the right time for you to return, but for now, turn your mind back to the night he picked you up off the streets of London." David said trying to keep her calm.

"How should I do this, David, there is so much to tell..." Theresa faltered, overwhelmed by her thoughts and emotions.

"That's how to do it, Tee," David replied. "Just think of that time, from the beginning and it will play out like a film we can watch together as if we were really there. You can jump forward, rewind, take your time; we can talk it about it as much as you want to. It is your story after all."

In front of them the scene changed in a blink of an eye to an old fashioned cinema, with all the art deco features, gold paint, red velvet seats and a huge wide high definition screen and full Dolby 5.1 surround sound. No more tree, grass or trickling brook, this was going to be hard so at least they could sit in comfort and warmth, thought David.

"Wow, that was quick!" said a surprised Theresa as she sank into the most comfortable seat ever. "Okay... here goes nothing." Theresa closed her eyes and grabbed hold of David's hand until her knuckles went white and his fingers went red, just as she used to do when they were still together and she was frightened.

* * * * *

"But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven." The King James 2000 Bible, copyright © Doctor of Theology Robert A. Couric 2000, 2003

## Chapter Six – My First Real Home.

"Father Joseph rescued me off the streets of London, when I was sixteen; in 1968 I think it was. He was so persuasive and I was so desperate, I thought at the time that I had little or no choice. I had no hope of finding you alone and I thought he might help me so I went with him, but every part of me was screaming 'FOOL!' I think I realised it was not going to be a good choice, but I was at the end of all my resources, my strength was fading, I felt ill to the bottom of my soul and really couldn't face having to sell myself again to some grubby bloke - just so I could eat.

He took me to a really big, but run down looking house. It was not a hostel as he had said and I'm not sure where it was, but it was a good ride in the car. It had proper big old-fashioned iron gates and a drive that curled round the front of this detached house to the side, where he parked up. From there you couldn't see the road because of the well-established trees; they were so big and old, sycamores I think they were. He led me around the back and showed me the overgrown gardens.

"This could all be yours, Theresa, if you want it enough." He said to me, guiding me into the house. We were in a very big, warm kitchen, not modern or clean for that matter, but it had everything I would need he told me. From there he took me round the ground floor and explained what he was trying to do with this ramshackle Victorian mansion. He explained he had been left a fortune by his brother, in Ireland, who had died a couple of years earlier, and he bought this house as an investment.

"It looked like a doss house to me, David, and there was a smell that reminded me of all the homes I'd ever been in, stale food and dirty toilets, he obviously never cleaned anything. It was as dirty as his blackened soul..."

"You weren't taken in by his offerings of salvation then?" David asked gently.

"David you pose a question I have often asked myself. In my defence, at some level I knew he just wanted a cleaner or housekeeper and if that was all he ever asked of me, I could live with that, but as you'll see... Well, let's carry on, play!"

Joseph continued with his tour and convincing show of concern as if he were offering me a belated birthday present. "Not all the rooms are decorated, Theresa, but it's nothing a bit of hard work wouldn't overcome, and I have an idea you might be interested in..." (Here it comes, I thought.)

Joseph led me through the magnificent oak panelled Hall with a grand front door and porch, which split the house in two, on one side was the kitchen, dining room, and a big lounge to the front of the house, and on the other side he showed me his office come study at the front, his bedroom and private bathroom. These were his private quarters where he insisted I would not be allowed in unless invited. It was obvious to me; he had never ventured anywhere else in the house as he had made himself very comfortable there in his so-called private rooms. I had been in his 'private' rooms once before, back at the orphanage when he subjected me to his 'loving' therapy. I would never go in there - ever.

The entrance to these private rooms from the hall, had been bricked up, and there was no other way in except through his office at the front. I didn't question him on anything then, as I was overwhelmed and so tired.

We then went up the grand staircase that divided at the top, and went around and back to the front of the house. Off these two hallways were four bedrooms, two either side, back to the top of the stairs, and there was a big bathroom, directly opposite was a door and another staircase which led up to the loft. Joseph said I had no business going up there, as it was unsafe as he had yet to deal with it, the door would remain locked and he had the only key.

"Of course, David, all this posturing about it being unsafe, and locked, that I was never to go in there was a challenge to me, and my curiosity. I would be putting it on my 'to do' list and see why it was so important to him."

"Quite right, Tee, but come on, this tour of the house is taking forever..."

"Okay, Mr impatient! He then took me to the big bedroom, at the front of the house, and said it was to be mine as long as I needed it and that I could leave at any time I wanted. He said I could paint and decorate anywhere in the house, to my taste and he would teach me how, but not his rooms, they were already done. As there wasn't much furniture in any of the rooms he promised he would get whatever I needed.

You know when someone offers you something and it sounds too good to be true? Well that's how I felt then. At that time I still didn't trust him, but he was true to his word for once and did as he said he would. He bought me second-hand furniture, replaced the old worn out carpets, had new curtains and other furnishings until the place began to feel like a real proper home that I had always imagined. I had a proper 'girlie' bedroom, all to myself. It may not have been the best interior design, but it was all mine. I felt spoiled and guilty for having so much that was all just for me. You know, David, when we had so little in those homes, nothing fancy, like a picture on the walls, carpet underfoot, and decent meals. How could I not trust him now, or want to leave this place for a life in the gutters of London?

We discussed my situation at length, in the kitchen where it was considerably warmer than the rest of the house. He told me the 'rules' of the house and how we could work together to get me a job. He even suggested I might like to go back to school, or maybe to the local college? But I passed on the idea of school as I had missed too much and college - another institution? I said I wasn't confident enough and knew my education was dismal, and besides he more or less talked me out of it. As for a job, I had no experience of that sort of thing and told him I wouldn't know where to start. He said he would help get my basic education up to scratch and we could see where to go from there.

The offer of normality was enticing and he mentioned all things I craved for, stability, security, comfort, no-one to bully me, demand sex from me, it was too good to be true. Signals should have fired off in my brain, but I was hooked. Stupidly I believed him."

"Very understandable Tee, but look what you gained, you were innocent, gullible, and what young girl would refuse a free hand in making a home for themselves, and a good job you did of it too. You would make someone a wonderful wife..."

" Err. David, not him!"

"Sorry Tee, I didn't mean him, of course, please carry on..."

"It was great for a couple of weeks everything just slipped into a pattern of domesticity, of what I thought were 'normal'. I loved the kitchen which he said was my domain and he taught me to cook the basics, stuff I couldn't remember how to do, so I could cook for him. We stocked the kitchen cupboards, which were empty as he said he ate out mostly, and he bought me a whole range of cookbooks, which were old, and falling to bits from a rummage sale we went too, to buy me some clothes and anything else that might be useful.

I did all the cleaning, as I was quite proficient at that from our upbringing in the homes. We painted and papered the empty rooms together, filled them with old furniture that he would buy at the markets and second hand shops. Nothing grand, as he said we were rescuing it from the dump and giving them a useful life again. He made it sound romantic, as long as it was clean and serviceable it came to live with us.

I actually loved that period of my life then, it was all exciting and new, getting to know the area, the shops, the people, and I would do anything so I could feel I was paying my way, without feeling wrong or bad about it. We had such laughs at our decorating attempts and mishaps - but he never left me alone. He was always watching me from a distance, making sure I was not thinking about running off again. He never let me go shopping alone, he said I was still a touch too ignorant and I would be taken advantage of by the unscrupulous traders on the markets and in the shops. I believed him as I did not have any experience of such things, but I was a fast learner and my confidence grew with every day I spent there.

I realise now, David, even then he was keeping me away from the eyes of the 'system', from the authorities, so no social worker busy bodies would stick their noses in and take me away, which would have been unlikely as I was now over sixteen. He made out they could snatch me away from my wonderful, new bedroom, with a dressing table, a comfortable bed and a nice view of the world from my own window.

At first at night he would lock my bedroom door, in case I got the urge to run away or explore the area without him. It took time but eventually he began to trust me more and me, him. I had fallen into his trap and it was too late - I was hooked. Was it wrong David?"

"Not at all, it is good, Theresa, to hold onto your dreams and to want to make more of yourself. You had nothing to compare this era of your life too; therefore it was no sin to be accepting of the situation, there was nothing you did wrong. Now, continueee..."

"Joseph told me how he had been de-frocked by the Catholic Church and excommunicated. He explained he was still a Christian man, with values and morals and liked to live a quiet penitent life, making up for his misdemeanours of his youth. He was indeed, a very well educated man and he told me he had degrees in philosophy, physiology, psychology, and now was learning about all the new technologies coming out, such as computers for the home.

Whatever he said I believed him, carte blanche and well, that's how it was. It suited me not to question him too much as I didn't want to go back into another institution, foster home or the streets. Life was good, better than good, but I never forgot you, David, and would talk to you often, in my room alone, telling you of my days, my hopes and dreams. Did you listen to me?"

"Sure did, Tee, you used to make me laugh when you imitated how that pig talked down to you. You had him bang to rights, even down to his mannerisms, and you even laughed at your own jokes which were funny for me to see... but come on, tell me more!"

"That's how it began so when he asked for a favour, I felt I couldn't say no, he even made out I was doing him a huge favour by helping him. He explained how he had an idea that could be a rewarding job for both of us, given our shared history, and it would help him make amends and be actively penitent. My rescue had been a success he thought, and it made him think that together we could do the same for the other runaways and lost souls.

He explained how he wanted to try and save them before any more damage occurred and this would be our new 'venture' but it would only work if we did it together. I was keen as he made it all sound so plausible. He said he would deal with the finding of these children as he knew the streets better than me and he would find a place for them in a good home and make sure they got the attention they needed. He said my responsibilities would be to clean them up, feed them, to talk to them, reassure them, to see if they needed any medical attention and generally be a 'surrogate Mum' to them. We had the room and the house was perfect for it. For all this work he would give me an allowance. That was it - I was sold on the high aspirations of this charitable work we were to do.

That is how things progressed, David, I felt I was doing something worthwhile and slowly we became a foster home, albeit under the radar of the authorities which at that time I had no clue about, and it became my 'job' and I was good at it.

Most of the time they were obvious runaways, mostly girls of thirteen to sixteen, but sometimes boys came through too, I'd talk to them, settle them in, go to charity shops with the money Joseph gave me, to buy clothes, shoes, and anything else I could pick up cheap.

Joseph told me not to question them too much, he would do that when they were 'ready', he wanted me to befriend them and help them recover. The bedrooms became dorms, the girls one side of the staircase and boys the other. We set up a dining room, near to the kitchen and the front room became a lounge, with comfy old settees and battered chairs, there was an old TV and lots of books and board games.

Nothing ever made me think there was something wrong going on, David. I truly thought for a long time we were doing something good, better than the authorities could as we had a different kind of foster home, one that truly cared about every single kid, but I still watched over the little ones when interacting with Joseph, like a hawk or mother lioness, ready to pounce and save them from the fate I had at his hands.

It was never far from my mind how he had abused me, but eventually I started to trust him, and he me. Even though the abuse was wrong, at the time, when I was five and six, I thought he loved me; he made all the other bad stuff bearable. I know now it was a perverted unnatural love but I also believed he was truly penitent and those feelings of love were now that of a parent to a daughter. I even started to think of him this way too, but I could never bring myself to call him Dad.

In reality, in the world of Paedophilia, I was no longer of interest to him sexually, I was too old, but I didn't know this then. It became the routine for us, working together, and I truly felt we did do some good for the runaways, who either went back to their homes, (so I was told) or were settled in private foster homes which Joseph sorted out for them. I genuinely thought they had a better chance of good life for coming to us. I suppose I let my guard slip, being totally wound up in this charade, this 'play' and my role in it, though I did wonder why none of them ever contacted us again, even just a simple note to say thanks.

When I questioned Joseph he said it was better for them to have a clean break, so they could settle in to their new lives and put the horrors of the past behind them. It made sense I suppose, and every time I had a query for Joseph he had an answer I couldn't fault; besides I was always occupied with the next child.

They were coming through the home quicker than ever, our capacity was six initially, two to a room in this four-bed house, but as time went on the numbers increased. Now at four in a room, with bunk beds, and sometimes I had to put up with the odd older girl in my room, which I didn't like as it was my private sanctuary. I loved my room, with all my things that I had acquired honestly, which I bought from what little money as an allowance I was given by Joseph to clothe myself and buy my 'womanly needs' as he put it.

Eventually, I did begin to worry; little things began to bug me, to niggle at my conscience, especially when children as young as ten started to come to us. They would not open up or talk to me at all. Joseph would say to me, "Well my child, you should know why that is, like you, they have suffered at some adult or paedophiles hands, they have suffered a severe trauma, and it is post-traumatic stress that keeps them quiet. It's all bottled up, and they need professional help."

He had an answer for everything and my guilt is that I accepted them at face value, even when that intuitive streak in me, as you said David, was screaming, 'It's a lie! He is a lying bastard!'

I really enjoyed my job, David; I loved sorting the kids out, playing Mum to them. It wasn't easy, some would cry all the time, and others would be totally withdrawn and unemotional. Some would scream and shout for their Mums, and even hit out at me, but eventually something would overcome them and they accepted the situation, calmed down and followed my gentle orders. All my experience at the hands of those unforgiving nuns, other homes and foster carer's gave me an empathy with them. I did not punish them as I had been, but used a softly, softly approach, more like the school nurse I remembered. Simply I gave them love and it seemed to work.

When all the kids were tucked in, I could retire to my own room, hopefully minus any unwanted guests as I worried they would steal my stuff. I would watch the TV Joseph had bought me, it wasn't an old one like in the lounge - in fact it looked brand new. I also had a telephone, but I was too scared to use it. It was there just to answer, when Joseph checked up on me. I never dialled out, or called anyone else, why would I? I didn't have anyone other than Joseph to call. He still kept me close to him, away from the world, not 'allowing' me to socialise with others, even with my age being thirty something but it suited me, as the world outside was so fast and full of violence. I preferred to stick my head in the sand and keep to what I knew and was comfortable with, and let the world go on without me.

I never had a friend, romantically, or even platonic - with anyone. I didn't want that kind of 'sexual' relationship that went hand in hand with being someone's girlfriend. You were the only person I ever felt close to, David, and when I lost you, I couldn't open up and trust anyone else because I thought they would disappear too and I couldn't go through that kind of pain again.

I stayed within the big wall I surrounded and protected myself with from real world. But here, in this home I had help create with Joseph, those walls were easily dismantled, by his charm, by his wit, his intelligence and by his well-told lies. I was completely won over by what I thought I needed and the acquisition of 'stuff'. He blackmailed me with presents, like the TV and now I can see I was still prostituting myself, David, working for rewards and the good feelings of being charitable and loving it. It was a mistake and I was to be punished for letting Joseph Bennett back in.

"As years the passed by he eventually began to trust me more, which meant more responsibilities, and he bought me a mobile phone, albeit a very basic one. I realise now it was to keep track of me wherever I was as now I was 'let out' to run errands at the nearby shops. I was afraid of the new technologies that came about as they made me feel ignorant and uneducated, which of course, I was, but Joe was patient and helped me to understand and use them in a limited fashion.

One of the many young girls who passed through my hands, and shared my room for a little while, showed me how to use the mobile thoroughly, how to text and send messages. She gave me her number off her mobile, which she had managed to keep hidden and I turned a blind eye to. She was older than most the kids coming through at that time and she was a bit more clued up, as if she knew what was really going on, but she never offered to explain, and I never pushed her to. She did move on really quickly and I did try to keep in touch with her, but she never replied. I thought I'd done something wrong, made a mistake with my mobile but later as all my world unravelled, I would find out it wasn't me, she wasn't able to reply.

Joseph had a computer in his office for the keeping of records and typing, printing letters of recommendation for some child he was trying to place. I would eventually find out these were bogus letters sent to a post office box that was his. It was his way of 'keeping it real' and to satisfy my curiosity. I was never allowed near the computer and would only ever stand on the threshold of his office whilst he bellowed out orders at me, or sent me off on errands.

There were times when we didn't get along so much, and he'd start an argument over the silliest things. The whole romance of the situation, of my job was beginning to lose its shine and I was increasingly suspicious of him and the whole operation. My stubbornness and ignorance of all these new technologies kept me in the dark sufficiently for him to think I was not curious anymore and of course, I was brainwashed by Joseph, a robot programmed to serve and keep themselves to themselves, but there were questions I needed answers too."

"Only right, Theresa, as you have always had a good conscience even when breaking the law, I could see that you were sorry, and would berate yourself. You still carry all that guilt for doing what had to be done to survive. No-one could blame you for that, Tee."

"Thanks David, you always had a knack of making me feel better about myself and the things we had to do. Now back to my film...

"The biggest question I had then was where did he finding all these 'destitute' children? Were they all found off London streets? Over the years the numbers had steadily increased and I suppose because I had accepted for nearly twenty two years, without much question, he felt safe to start bringing 'other' kind of kids home, some foreign and some much younger than normal, as young as four! I got confused and suspicious and when I aired my concerns, he always had an answer and I always opted for the easier route, ignorance.

Eventually I could no longer accept his stories of what happened to the children after they left our 'sanctuary' and the safety I thought I had been providing. How, without directly challenging Joseph, was I going to find out? Did I really want to know? What if he was up to his old games?

He'd never so much as touched or even looked at me in a way that was sexual, or intimidating. In fact, just the opposite, he was tender, complimentary, and very supportive. We would often talk away the hours, discussing many a subject off the news, or the latest book I had read, with the education he had provided me with. He had made it easier for me to accept this new repentant Joseph after all he was nearly fifty-six, an old man. I made a pledge to myself that the next child that was presented for care and what I now know was 'grooming'; I would try to keep better tabs on them, but how?"

* * * * *

Quote:

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has to do with punishment. He that fears is not made perfect in love." John 4:18 The King James 2000 Bible, copyright © Doctor of Theology Robert A. Couric 2000, 2003

## Chapter Thirteen \- Freedom and Friends.

"Joseph did allow me some free time to go out shopping for myself; I even went to the cinema alone, but he would check up on me, ringing my mobile and ask me where I was. He would then turn up in his car to pick me up, 'as he just was passing that way'. As if! I wasn't that naïve, he couldn't bring himself to totally trust me and now it was a two way street, reciprocated by me, I had closed my eyes to the situation for the last time.

It was now 1990 and I was thirty-eight, but still shy and withdrawn in public. I had no frame of reference to how a woman of my age should dress or look, and I think it showed by the reactions I received from the people I had chance to meet. I would keep my head down, mumble out my requests, and hear the laughter as I turned away. It was nothing I wasn't used to, all my life; it was the reaction I had grown to accept.

The corner shop held a special interest for me in the shape of its 'owner?' I wasn't sure. He was handsome in my eyes, and I had admired him from a distance for the two years that I had seen him work there - but I thought with my disfigured looks he was way out of my league. However it didn't stop me from having my first crush at thirty-eight years of age. How sad is that?

The corner shop was at the end of the road the home was on and it was a funny shape corner, like a big U, but the door was on the other road, which led to the new precinct and supermarket, a Tesco, which I had heard him complain to other customers they were taking all his trade away.

I disliked the bigger stores, full of people always rushing around with trolleys that never ran in a straight line. If Joseph sent me out on an errand I would see if the corner shop had it rather than walk all the way to the precinct. Joseph didn't mind where I went to shop as long as he got precisely what he had asked for. If I took too long in getting what he wanted, he would be on the phone, demanding to know why it was taking me so long. His diligence prevented me from wasting time talking, chatting or gossiping and he would tell me the 'rumour mill' would have a field day and it was better to keep a 'low profile', whatever that was.

I'd dream away hours, thinking of ways to talk to the shopkeeper, of his coming around the counter to help me, starting up a light and pleasant conversation. I had read enough magazines and romantic novels to know how it was supposed to work, but in reality, I just clammed up, lowered my gaze, rushed in and rushed out. My heart would be thumping so hard I thought I would pass out.

Back out on the pavement I would kick and curse myself. Should I go back in, pretend I forgotten something? I'd gaze longingly through the main window, in-between the ad's for the 'best offers' for that week and posters for the scouts next rummage sale, which I would pretend I was taking down the information for, or I'd stand reading the 'for sale' ad's watching him as he worked. I had been watching him for two years now.

"How shall I tell you this next bit of my life David? It needs more of an explanation, a bit more of a real feel, if you know what I mean?"

" Okay Tee, no probs, just let the scenes you want me to see as if they were just happening as they did in reality for you, by closing your eyes and we will go back, back, further and further into your mind, into your past, when you are at something you wish me to experience with you, open your eyes..."

Theresa opened her eyes and there they were, David and herself, standing on the street of her past, watching the younger version of herself living out what were her own memories... or something like that, it was a bit disorientating to begin with and then fascinating, strangely exciting as she watched herself doing and saying the stuff of her past.

"Can they see us?" Theresa whispered.

"No, Tee, or hear us, it will play out in front of us as if we are really there, and we will see hear and feel all that you went through. You can still jump forward or rewind to the scene you feel needs a thorough explanation, it is your story after all so tell it how you want, I will understand."

Theresa felt assured and said dramatically, "Lights, camera, action!" The scene surrounding them jumped into life and the past played out as if it were the present.

### Scene One.

"You'll never get him to notice you like that you know." I glanced round to see a youngish girl stood next to me.

"I'm s s sorry." I stammered.

"Nah, that's ok, he's called Brian, and he 'asn't got a girlfriend, he's just like you... toooo shy!" She giggled and pointed at him who was oblivious behind his counter.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." I replied with as much indigence as I could muster.

"Your loss." she said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

"How do you know him?" I bravely enquired. The thought hit me hard, it's now or never, she could be a friend, and at least now I knew his name, perhaps I could learn more from her.

"The big sop's me bruvver. You really got the hots for him then? He's never 'ad a girlfriend."

Her east end London accent grated, I was sure she was laying it on for me, teasing me in some way. She carried on, "Oh it don't matter your no looker, he would be happy wi' a minger!" Laughing loudly she jumped up and sat on a walled plant display near the edge of the pavement, dangling her dirty looking ripped jeans and tatty trainers. Probably the latest fashion, I thought.

"Isn't that a little cruel?" I challenged her, daring to meet her gaze looking face to face, and not hide under my hair like I usually did when anyone, especially a stranger, spoke to me. She stared right back into my eyes, not a quiver, as if she didn't understand how insulting she had just been.

"Don't matter to me what you looks like, you're not bad looking, just a bit old fashioned and you're a nice person I can tell. You're that lady from that big posh house up the road ain't yer? You must be real rich to live there; I always wanted to see inside it, is it nice?" I was a little taken aback that she knew so much about me, and I could not even remember seeing her before.

"My names Theresa, what's yours?" I said trying to break the silence, joining her leaning on the wall playing with the heads of the beautiful pansies in bloom.

"Mary, me Mum wan't very bright, and there was six of us and she was a bible basher so we all got saint's names. She's dead now..." she said without a flicker of any emotion, as if it was the usual thing you drop into a conversation with a stranger.

"Oh gosh, I am sorry to hear that, and Mary is a very nice name, I'm named after a saint too. How old is your brother?" This was the bravest I'd ever been and it was the most I ever said to someone outside of the home.

"Brian's the eldest, he is firty-nine, for'ee soon, I fink." Mary said quite openly, unabashed at my query.

"You mean forty; he does looks older than that." I replied, not meaning to correct her English and trying hard not to be offensive.

"It's that face full of crinkles and worry lines!" she laughed again. "Peoples always thinking he's older than he is, 'cus he's always looked after us kids and the shop all by himself. It's why he's never married, he's toooo ug ug - ley!!" Stressing the 'too', whilst stretching out the ugly to get some kind of reaction from me, I thought.

"It's a shame you feel like that, I know how he feels. People are always ready to judge when they are faced with someone who looks a little different." I had caught Mary sneaking a look at my birthmark, which could still be seen when I raised my head and moved the hair off my face.

"Likes you do?" Mary said bluntly, carrying on chewing a bright pink piece of bubble gum that popped out of her mouth now and again as she attempted to blow a bubble.

"Like me? Well, yes, I suppose so. I have found that people can't seem to help but stare at my birthmark even though it has faded and is nothing like I was born with." Theresa moved her hair more so Mary could get a good look at it.

"Why don't yer get it fixed?" Mary suggested.

"What do you mean fixed?" I was surprised at her frankness and had no idea what she meant.

"Yer know likes they do on tele, plastric surgery." She pulled back the skin round her eyes and cheeks until I could not help but laugh at this young girl's lack of grammar and her funny face pulling.

"Oh... you mean plastic surgery - yes I suppose I could, but it is very expensive and I don't have a job, Mary." I smiled at her and thanked for her thoughtfulness.

"But you live in that big house with that old man. Is he your hubby?" Mary giggled at this last statement.

"No he is not my husband!" I said indignantly. "I work for board and lodging, and I clean and cook for him and his 'guests'". (I couldn't tell her who the guests were, that they were young kids.) "I was taken in by him, from off the streets when I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I was at risk of damning my soul forever. Joseph kindly gives me an allowance for helping him out with the... well, with the house. It's not much, just enough for personal shopping and definitely not enough for expensive operations, besides which, this is the face God gave me. He gave it to me for a reason I yet have to understand but it is mine for life and not to change it for the sake of vanity. That would be a sin."

I was a little offended she could think I was married to him, but managed to conceal my horror. Did all the people who saw us together think we were married? I shivered at the thought.

"Ahhhh...So you're a religious nut job too then." She stated as if she had discovered an astounding fact. "So's me bruv. I'm not; it's all a load of rubbish to me."

Another fact learnt about Brian, thank you Mary, I thought. I was getting to like the name and the sound of the man I that filled my most private fantasies.

"I must go Mary, I'll be missed, but it was very nice to meet you and to talk to you." With that I turned and began to walk away, as I was in very real danger of Joseph coming looking for me.

"You got a moby?" Mary asked just as I thought we had finished our informative chat.

"Yes" I replied "but I don't use it much, it's too complicated for me, I'm just no good with all this new stuff coming out all the while." I replied blushing slightly.

"Oh my God! What cent tree (as two words not century) you out of; give it 'ere!" She outstretched her hand and I handed her my mobile. She quickly opened it and started to type something in it.

"There, you got me number now, if you wants I can put in Brian's as well?" she offered.

"Ohhh errr, no!" I grabbed my phone back, a little rudely. "Thank you Mary, but you'd better not; it is his to give, but thank you for yours." I said regaining some composure. Joseph might overlook a girl's name in my phone with some elaborate tale from me, but no way a boy's name. Anyway, I didn't know if I ever would need it but having Mary's number was of some comfort.

"Okay I put yours in mine as well, so's I can text you! We can be friends can't we? I know your loads older than me, but you remind me of me Mum." This time Theresa could hear the emotion and untold grief in her voice.

"Ohhh eerr," I stuttered, again abashed by her frankness. "Thanks, but I really must go, and yes, okay, it will be nice to have a new friend. Bye-bye." And with that I strode purposefully away, hurrying to get back before I was missed.

"Laters!" She waved cheerily, jumped off the wall and went into the shop.

End of scene one.

Back to the comfy seats of the cinema.

"Only friend is what I should have said, David, but I was trying not think any more of it and racing to get back to the home in case Joseph questioned me too much. He always wanted to know all the details of my 'outings' saying he was only interested and trying to protect me. He would tell me, that I was 'too innocent' and 'so gullible' and there is so much crime out there, someone like me could get mugged or worse, raped – and of course, I knew what that was like.

Joseph always made it sound like London streets were full of them, muggers and rapists, so I never ventured very far on my own. My world consisted of the local shopping precinct where Tesco was, it was a good walk or a short bus ride away and it was where Joseph would take me to do the necessary shopping for food. Then there was row of shops near to the home - where Brian worked. Where I would go and buy the more daily requisites such as milk and Joseph's favourite newspaper, the Guardian.

Next to the corner shop was a pet store, where I would stop and look at the playful rabbits and guinea pigs, then there was a hairdresser, a second hand shop, which I was a regular at, and a posh woman's dress shop, which always seemed out of place to me. There were two restaurants', one Chinese take away and one Indian you sat in and had your meal, but Joseph never asked for food from there, or offered to take me out for a meal which was a pity as I always thought how nice the food cooking smelt.

The multiplex cinema that had recently been built was also within walking distance, more than a mile, I think, and that was the furthest point of my world. When I went to the cinema, alone of course, Joseph would always meet me in the car to make sure I got home safe, especially for evening shows, but I enjoyed walking, the freedom I felt when walking alone, so mostly I chose a film which had an afternoon showing.

Now I was older, I felt this was more a ruse to constrain me, to keep me under his watchful eye. In retrospect, I think he was afraid of losing me. The last time I mentioned a young man I had met, he kept me in the house, practically under lock and key, for 'my protection'. I soon realised it was a mistake to tell him too much and I have never made that mistake again. I enjoyed the little freedom I had and seeing a man just didn't seem worth it, so I told myself. That is until I saw Brian.

But back to my original problem, how was I going to keep tabs on the next kid? Perhaps making friends with Mary was a good thing, she might be able to help me. I guessed was about sixteen, a very worldly wise, streetwise and not very sweet, sixteen. She might think of a way, better than I could. I remembered how quickly she had handled her mobile. I bet she'd be good on computers too. Back at the house, all was quiet as I slipped up to my room un-noticed, a skill I had down to perfection. Somehow it made me feel more secure, the knowledge that I, even at this age, could still nip in and out right under his nose.

This was the turning point in my life, David; this is when it all started to go wrong. No I mean right. Oh I don't know! It was in those last years with Joseph that brought me to here, well down there in - what did you say it was - a coma? Well, with a bullet in my brain for sure, but at least I had some short lived happiness, found a true friendship and true love in Brian Upton and his sister, Mary."

* * * * *

## Chapter Seven – Liza, Mary and Brian.

"The next kid happened to be an uncooperative little bitch called Liza, not Lisa, 'with a z' as she told me for the umpteenth time. I guessed she was around thirteen; she would bite and scratch me when I tried to undress her for a bath, in the end I left her to it and dumped her 'new' clean second-hand clothes from the last guest who was her size onto a chair.

Little Liza Doolittle, as Joseph called her, our own cockney flower girl had come from a very bad home where she had been beaten regularly, and hardly ever fed a proper meal. She had little education, could not read or write and her language was awful, even worse than mine at that age. Do you remember that David? My bad swearing which I never got quite right and you always laughed at my frustration with it..." (David nodded and indicated for her to get back to the story.)

"Joseph went into great detail in telling me about her background and how best to handle her, using a bit of reverse psychology. He never did this with any of the other runaways; I would only get the barest details, enough time to write them up in a book I had started. I intended to keep a written record myself on all the kids that came through our 'home', just in case one day somebody would come looking for a child that had been in our 'care'.

I did this now David, because of the suspicions, the little niggles I had about this operation, this Christian kindness and charity of Joseph's. I put Liza into the girls' room where there was only one other girl in residence and she was due to ship out the next morning. Liza looked at me with her big blue eyes, "This is for me?" she pointed at the bed.

"Yes, it's all yours whilst you are here." I told her gently, unprepared for the flood of tears and her scrawny little body which she flung at me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Heh, heh, come on now, it's alright, your safe here." I told her gently whilst trying to loosen her grip around my neck.

Liza eventually let me go and jumped onto the bed, rolling round on it, tossing the pillows into the air, she hadn't slept in a proper bed for as long as she could remember she told me. All she had ever known was a tatty stained mattress on the floor, no sheets, or a pillow, just a grey blanket that was scratchy and barely kept her warm.

Once she started talking I could not stop her, even indicating by the finger over the mouth, shush, had little effect and she had such an excited, high-pitched voice. I had to calm her down or her noise would bring Joseph up the stairs to see what was going on. As if she read my mind she said next, in a hushed voice more mouthing the words than actually making a sound. "You will keep that man away from me won't you?" Tears loomed in those big blues heralding a downpour if I couldn't settle her down.

"What? You mean Joseph? Oh Liza please don't worry about him, he's a pussycat, he won't harm you." Liza pulled on her pyjamas and climbed into bed, the other girl, Janet, I think, was already asleep in her bed and oblivious of all the shouting and laughing. Janet was one of the quiet ones, who never spoke more than one word at a time and it worried me more than all the chatty ones. I tucked Liza in and made a promise to myself that these kids were going to get my protection from whatever plan Joseph had for them.

This is how it went on, David, week after week, girl after girl, and each time I would promise myself - I would protect them. I'd write about them in my notebooks that I hid under a loose floorboard under my dressing table, but in truth - I was powerless to do anything.

Liza left two days later, very subdued. I did wonder if she was drugged up, as she was so quiet. She gave me such a look as she left, it made me feel ashamed and part of something dirty. I went to the room she had been in and started to strip the beds and wash the clothes ready for the next inmate. Then it hit me –'inmate'! That's what you and I called ourselves when we were in St Josephs!

All along the only person I had been deceiving was myself - I was still an inmate. Yes, albeit with a little more freedom than those who passed through our caring hands. I felt powerless, a cheat and a liar. I kept my head down secretly crying inside, I didn't want Joseph to see my remorse and regret because he'd find a way to pacify me as he always did. I wanted to 'feel' like this, as I hated what I had become. My glasshouse was slowly shattering into a million pieces - my life was a lie. I'd buried my head in the sand long enough - all for the sake of a room and a comfortable life. And I realised it wasn't even my own to call my own, if you get what I mean, David?"

"I understand, Tee, you're doing really well." Davis said, pulling me close giving me another of those forever feeling hugs.

"There were all the trinkets and little surprise gifts Joseph gave me, in a way of a thank you. He would say - and it did make me feel, that I was doing something good, worthwhile and charitable – now all those words meant nothing. I had to become cleverer than him, more deceitful and find out exactly where this collection of 'lost souls' went.

I couldn't do it on my own though and I had no-one to turn to but a sixteen year old girl called Mary who I had spoken to no more than a dozen times now. I had divulged some of what went on in the home, how it was a sanctuary for lost and abused children whilst they waited to be re-homed. Mary said she had never seen any kids coming or going, in her typically bad grammar and I tried to answer to her many questions but I told her none of my suspicions though, the time wasn't right and I wasn't quite ready to rock the boat without a life raft in place.

As I lay in my comfortable bed, in my private room, I tossed and turned with the images of the horrors of abuse that happened to me but with the faces of the many children who had come to us expecting sanctuary. Where did they go really - a nice new home with loving foster parents? If they did then how could I contact them without alerting Joseph to my worries - I had to find out. From tomorrow, I told myself, I would question the inmates more thoroughly, and I'd stop calling them inmates, I shouted at myself silently.

I had to get into Joseph's private rooms. He never let me in there to clean or change his bed, he insisted on doing it all himself, telling me I had enough to do caring for the kids. I used to think this was very thoughtful of him, he even took his own rubbish out to the bins outside – there was an opportunity! It hit me like a sledgehammer; I could go through his rubbish. He was bound to of thrown something incriminating away, thinking I would never even think of going through his rubbish. Well, I hadn't until now, and that was partly due to Mary's incessant questions. She made me think, she voiced my suspicions that I was trying to ignore and hearing her say it really drove it home - I had to do more. The first part of a plan started to formulate in my thirty- nine year old head and next step was to ask Mary if she could help me."

"I got a chance to speak to her two days later whist out shopping for fresh bread and vegetables to make a soup for the kids in residence still. Mary was in her normal spot hanging around the little row of shops including the one where her brother Brian worked. We need another scene here David, I think."

"Your wish is my command!" Wham, bang, whoosh and we were both back on the streets of London in my memories again.

### Scene Two

"Hiya matey!" Mary shouted as she saw me, and came thundering down the road towards me on roller skates. "What do yer reckon to these then? Brill aren't they, do you wanna try?" The girl never gave me a chance to answer, as she rushed it all out in one breath. "What yer up to then? Yer down 'ere gagging at me brov' again? Yer really need to say 'ello to him yer know."

"Please take a breath and give me time to answer you, Mary; you talk so fast I can't keep up." I locked my lips with a pretend key to stop her from interrupting me. "Yes, your skates are lovely, and no- I would not like a go. I am down here shopping for veggies for dinner and no -I was not looking at your brother."

I finished my reply but I was looking at her brother, who was now on the step of his shop, looking at both of us, curiously trying to make out what all the commotion was about. I instinctively bent my head and averted his gaze. Damn my shyness.

"What all this noise about Mary? You're not harassing my customers again are you? Are you okay, Madam?"

The last bit of the sentence was directed at me, he hadn't moved off the doorstep and I had kept my reddening face pointed at the ground. 'Come on gal' - I encouraged myself to look up at him! It was the first time I had heard the voice of my two yearlong crush and I wasn't disappointed, it was nothing like his sisters, no slang, or swearwords, or much of an east end accent, he sounded...what did he sound like? Ah yes, he sounded a bit like Joseph - educated. I hoped that was all they had in common.

Bravely I raised my face a hundred and eighty degrees to find he was now standing only a couple of feet away. He repeated his question, "Are you all right, Madam?"

Madam? I'd never been called that and in my ignorance I did not know what it meant, that it was a polite gesture so I answered a little awkwardly. "My names Theresa, not Madam, and yes thank you I am fine."

Both of them collapsed in laughter and my face was burning in embarrassment, I hadn't a clue what was so funny. "Oh geez Theresa, you are a laugh!" screeched Mary.

Mary found everything funny but why was her brother laughing at me? I turned to walk away but he put his hand on my arm and turned me back to face him. "I'm so sorry, Theresa is it? I truly did not mean to offend you; it was the way you said it and I thought you were making a joke, please, accept my apologies."

I was still in the mind to walk away with my ignorance intact, but this was Brian, he had spoken to me, twice, and he touched my arm! I looked to Mary for some assurance that it was all right, and on cue she said, "This is Brian, my big bro, I told you about."

"Happy to meet you Brian, your sister is a little whirlwind, is she not?" How brave I had become, a whole sentence and not one word stammered.

"Yes, she can be a right handful but we love her all the same. Mary has mentioned you, her new friend, and that you work in that big house, but I didn't realise you were of my age, sorry to be blunt."

Mary had moved off on her skates out of earshot and out of range for me to send her my most worried look, or gesture for help. It was all up to me to make the most of this encounter. I looked straight at him, hearing the challenge and the concern in his voice.

"Yes, I am a lot older than her regular friend's I suppose, but in her defence she has been very helpful to me, showing me how to use my mobile phone. I am ashamed to say I am a little intimidated by all these new technologies."

"Aren't we all!" he laughed. "We have just had a new till and barcode scanner, it's been a right nightmare for me picking it up but Mary soon had it sussed out and then taught me, talk about embarrassing."

I hoped I wasn't staring, but I couldn't take my eyes off him, trying to drink in every detail of his persona, his looks, his voice, the shape of his eyes that bulged slightly behind his spectacles.

"That must of been quite a challenge, Joseph has tried to teach me how to use a computer he has bought me, one of his many 'bargains' not like the new-fangled thing in his office. He started at what he said was a very basic level, just enough to do some of the paperwork and all that, and every time I hit a wrong key, or it does something I didn't ask it too, I go into panic mode hoping the damn thing won't blow up on me."

This was the longest sentence I had said to anyone in years, except for Joseph and the kids of course. We both shared a laugh at my blowing up a computer, and our eyes met for the briefest of moments but it felt as if the whole world has stopped, my heart hammered in my chest and my stomach gurgled loudly.

"AW! Theresa that were 'orrible!" Mary exclaimed as she whipped past on her skates and prevented our conversation ending with awkward silence.

"Oops! Sorry both of you, it seems I must get back and feed the hordes - and myself!" I said embarrassed, apologising for my noisy stomach.

"Heh, that's okay..." Brian said in his smooth chocolaty voice, "Can I ask you something quickly before you go?" I nodded, a little worried. "Are you married? Divorced? Separated?"

I must have looked like a startled deer, as I froze, unable to answer, all I could think was why does he want to know? Luckily Mary jumped in sensing the awkward way her brother had asked that particular question.

"Nah, she's a 'Miss', dummy, sure I told yer. She's a never been married, never been kissed Miss!" Mary laughed at her own pun. It broke the ice again and Brian continued after glaring at her to shut up.

"I was wondering, Theresa, if I might take you out for a meal or a drink?" Talk about the sixty-four dollar question! I wanted to scream - Yes! Yes! Of course I will! But reality hit home hard, it would be impossible under Joseph's ever-watchful gaze.

"I'm very sorry, but I can't" And with that I turned quickly and walked away.

"Mary, get in and mind the shop, will you? I'll pay you before you ask, just give us ten minutes of your valuable skating time, okay?" But before she had time to answer, Brian was running up the street after me. He caught up to me just as I was going round the corner, into the street that eventually led to the home.

"Theresa, I'm very sorry if I embarrassed you. I really would like a date; I am not joking or anything."

I was quite startled I'll tell you David, at him chasing after me, but how could I explain about Joseph? Before I had chance to come up with another rebuttal he spoke again.

"Look, I know all about that louse you live with, Mary has told me. How he is always checking up on you - he isn't related to you is he?" His voice genuinely seemed concerned but what his face was doing is anybody's guess as I was staring at the pavement again.

"No, he's my boss and self-proclaimed protector." I answered quietly, ashamed that he knew this about me.

"Would you like me to have a word with him? Ask him if it is okay to take you on a date?" he suggested, not wanting to seem pushy or desperate but my reaction was not what he expected, I'm sure.

"No!" I shouted, surprising myself at the tone and volume of this simple word. "Please no, he must never know I have spoken to you. He would never let me see you, in 'that' way."

I hoped Brian would understand and back off, as much as I wanted him to be more, to have this date, I was at a loss as to what to do. It was then when Brian came up with a great idea.

"Mary tells me you're 'allowed' to go to the pictures on your own?" I heard the underlying sarcasm in the way he said 'Allowed'.

"He lets me go when there is an appropriate new film out and there are no ki... I mean jobs for me to do... but he nearly always drops me off and then picks me up from an arranged time and place."

I nearly let it slip out. Did he notice? I managed to lift my gaze from the street to his hopeful face, which was full of concern.

"Does he ever come in with you, even to check you are there?" Brian asked quietly hoping he wasn't pushing his luck with this woman who Mary had befriended and talked about endlessly, so much so he felt he already knew her.

"No, he never comes in. He goes on his errands for something or the other and I wait outside until he shows up." I replied my voice tinged with the sadness I felt about this impossible situation.

"How about we meet inside the cinema, he would never know would he? That is if it is alright with you?" Clever Brian. I could never have come up with such a plan! I felt excited and tried to contain my emotions, I whispered...

"Oh Yes! What a great idea." (And then with more controlled enthusiasm...) "In that case, I would love to go to the cinema with you Brian."

"I'll get Mary to text you my number and then we can arrange this espionage together."

Brian was very pleased with himself, at his courage at actually speaking to her. According to Mary he had been watching her, watching him, and neither had inkling. Good 'ole Mary and her quirky ways. If it was not for her they may never have crossed paths or spoke, as the curse of shyness they shared would have prevented it. He turned, waved and went back to his shop on cloud nine.

"Pause scene two please, David." Theresa turned to face her childhood friend. "That was the first time I had ever uttered his name aloud, David, and I liked it. I held out my hand for him to shake it and seal the deal, but he grasped it and pulled it towards his lips where he planted the lightest of kisses - just like in the movies. Boy! I nearly fainted and when back I got back to the privacy of my room I kept thinking about the kiss. David, it was a life altering moment... a scene that I replayed over and over again."

"Yes Tee, a true life altering event for it is here for sure your life started down another path." David assured her, "but come on I am dying to see the rest..." With that pun they were both set off in a tide of giggles, just as they had shared years ago.

"Okay - stop it David, your giving me stomach ache...play on!" Theresa continued before David could interject with the fact she really didn't have a stomach at present.

I had returned a little too happy for a trip to the shops and had to physically kick myself on the shin and bite my lip hard, hoping the resulting pain would conceal my hearts happiness and 'he' wouldn't notice anything amiss – please continue the scene please!"

"What's up with you, Theresa? Have you hurt yourself?" Was all I was greeted with, Joseph acknowledged my limping...

"Yes...damn it, I tripped over that loose brick in the path again, the one I keep asking you to fix!"

What an actor I was, I deserved an Oscar, as I really had kicked myself in the shin with the back of my left foot and there was a nice little bruise just peeking his bluish black head out as proof.

"Oh dear, I am sorry, Theresa. I promise I will get round to doing that but for now you'd better get in the kitchen and get dinner ready. Your late back and these kids need feeding and the two young brothers are due to go tonight so you'd better have them packed and ready." Joseph, he was such a thoughtful bloke – not.

It was strange though, him saying two were due out tonight. Were they on some kind of schedule? Usually this was part of the 'care' of the kids I had nothing to do with. I never knew when they were to go, or when they were due in. They appeared and then disappeared, and in all these years of my tending looking after these 'lost souls' I had never questioned him or even thought to find out.

I am as culpable as him with my silent acceptance. I realise that now and it hurts me inside, like a python wrapping round its victim, pulling ever tighter. My shame and guilt is the snake and it is my heart and soul they squeeze. The pain was so real in my chest, David, I thought I would have a heart attack and what use would I be if dead - who would help these children then?"

End of Scene Two.

* * * * *

## Chapter Eight – Discovery

"I was on my tenth notebook now and it was the summer of 1998. It had occurred to me that I possibly had all the evidence I needed in my books. It was probably enough for the authorities to start an investigation, but which authorities? I didn't know if it warranted the police, the church or social services, or all of them. Over the years I had divulged more or less everything that went on in this so called home to Brian and Mary. Our friendships had progressed apace and they were as equally horrified that it was not a 'proper' home for these poor kids, and they were also at a loss at what to do.

Brian was worried that I might indicate myself as an accessory after the fact, whatever that meant. I guessed from his worried expression that it meant I would be in trouble too. Brian had become a great asset to me through our clandestine meetings at the cinema or when I was out shopping and I became a dab hand on texting and removing all evidence of their meetings.

I was positive Joseph knew nothing, thanks to my increasingly good acting skills born of many a told lie, in the many homes I had experienced. My relationship with Brian had truly blossomed to more than just friends; it was a romance like in the Mills and Boon books I love to read, it was as near perfect as it could be, David."

"He sounds a good man, Tee, you have done well for yourself, truly, and you deserve this chance at happiness."

"Brian had even started coming to Mass on Sundays at St John's, the closet Catholic Church to the home, even though he was a protestant Christian in the Church of England. Of course, Joseph couldn't come, or wouldn't, so it was an ideal place to meet up. It reminded me of those times when we went to church, David, to do our pickups..."

David nodded.

"Joseph had told me that being a protestant was not a real religion appointed by God, and was run by the Queen. I used to take all this sort of stuff in without question, but Brian had explained it a lot better to me, all the history behind the spilt of the two faiths. We both come to the same conclusion, it really didn't matter where we worshipped, and any church would do. It was more important to have faith in God, than the house he was worshipped in. God is everywhere, Brian explained, and mostly he is here, (pointing at my heart), and here, (pointing at my head), and you can talk with him anywhere, at any time, you really don't need a third person. It made sense to me the way he explained it. Was he right David?"

"Oh, yes, Tee, the buildings and names of faith matter not, having faith and love in God is all you need." Theresa continued.

"In Brian's opinion, the bible has been interpreted many times over during the centuries, to fit in with the popular view of the day, and the purity of it has been diluted and tarnished by man. He is so clever and so educated but he never made me feel small or stupid, and he always answered my every question simply, from his heart.

It didn't take much for us to fall in love, but we both worried how to progress our relationship to the next stage. We had kissed and held hands and I truly felt real love for Brian, but I am also scared of what Joseph would do if he found out about us, or our campaign to bring him to justice.

Our going through Joseph's rubbish had produced a lot of evidence, which Brian kept in the shop, in a business like folder, along with the evidence of names and dates in my notebooks. We hoped it would be possible for some of the kids to be found but we needed more incriminating evidence of where the kids were passed onto and for what reason. I knew some had legitimately gone into private foster care; as I have letters of reply, accepting the children, and luckily I found one address near enough for us to check it out.

Brian and Mary were going to visit this foster home to see if it was a real place and if it was, they would ask to see the kids who were supposed to be there, for themselves. They went on a Sunday, after mass, a time when these homes usually welcomed visitors, and prospective parents. Brian was going to pose as a parent looking to adopt and ask for a tour to check the place out. Mary was going to turn up separately as someone looking for a relative who she was told might be there, with a bogus letter they had drafted up about one of the kids, a girl called Sarah Jones, who was supposed to be at this address.

Mary was to pose as the girls' sister, and explain they had both been in care and they had been separated, but now as she was over eighteen she was trying to find her. It was all a bit precarious, so much could go wrong or back fire, but we needn't have worried.

When they got to the address they found an empty shell of a house, used by squatters and druggies, with some still in residence. We're going to need another scene here David, so you can get the full feel of it and besides I wasn't there so I only know what they told me."

"Good idea Tee, we can do that and we will see, hear and smell it just as they experienced it too. Hold tight!" With the big whoosh and bang, they both stood next to the young Brian and Mary as they stood at the front door of the supposed home.

### Scene Three.

Brian got up the nerve to push the back door open as the front door had been boarded up, as were many of the ground floor windows, but the back door was not locked, the boards has been torn off and the door forced open. Inside the smell of urine stung their eyes. Mary, who was supposed to be on watch, could not contain her curiosity and was one step behind her brother.

"I told you to keep watch, Mary." Brian said, glaring at his sister

"What and let you 'ave all the fun? If anyone comes we should hear 'em. What is that 'orrid smell?" she replied wrinkling her little snub nose.

"It's piss, vomit, and shit, I guess - the smell of destitution. Well, this isn't a kid's foster home and it looks like it never has been. It must be a postal drop." Her brother whispered to her.

"What yer wisperin' for, no-one's 'ere are they? And what's a postal drop?" Mary said in her not so quiet voice.

"Keep your voice down, Mary, we don't know it's empty and there are two more floors, I think, so some drugged up tramp might jump us for our money and stuff. We need to see if there is any post around, the letters that Theresa sent, to prove this place is not legit."

Mary, now with a more subdued voice said. "Way to go brov'.... now I'm scared. Looks like they burnt it all look in the fireplace." They both went over to investigate the ashes, to see if anything had been left un-burnt, but there wasn't.

"Heh heh Sis' lookey here, I think we've got something." Brian said pointing to the far side of the big fireplace.

"Let me see, come on brov' what is it?" Brian passed her a bucket that was full of papers, advertising leaflets, trade newspapers, and letters - unopened letters.

"Wow! Score or what!" Mary squealed excitedly, trying to control her volume.

"Yes, look at this one, it's in Theresa's handwriting" Brian said passing the unopened letter to his sister. "I think we better get as much of these as we can, Mary, it's all evidence. Now take some photos on that little camera of yours, as further evidence."

"What shots do you fink are best?" Mary said squinting, holding her camera to her face and surveying the room.

"Mmm, I think the bucket, next to the fireplace for a start, then some shots of the house showing its obvious derelict condition." Brian replied thoughtfully.

"Okay, brov, let's get a move on, this place gives me the wobbles." Mary dutifully wandered around taking pictures of just about everything.

Brian gathered as many letters as he could and stuffed them into his satchel, or 'man bag' as Mary called it. He always had it on him when out, with his bird watching book, his mobile, and many other important items a man needs. He didn't think it was 'gay' as Mary said.

Theresa interrupts the scene...

"And I had complimented him on his thoughtfulness when I had cut my finger on some paper; he instantly jumped to my rescue with a cleansing wipe and plaster. Brian, my hero..."

"Back to the story Tee..."

The scene springs back into life...

Back outside they had another quick look around the building. The garden was massively overgrown with brambles and weeds, and there was no evidence that it had ever been used as a playground for kids. Mary took a few more shots to use up the last of the film.

"I'll get this developed tomorrow and we can show Theresa what we've founded." She said.

"Found, not founded," her brother was always correcting her grammar. "Yes Mary, good idea. I'll text her too, to let her know we have found something." Brian was pleased they had got some real evidence and the case against that vile pervert was building and would soon be enough to take to the police.

The scene changes and Theresa and David now stand in the dining room back at the 'not' home and younger Theresa picks up the story. (The future Theresa shivered as she felt weird watching her younger self-reliving her past.)

"I got the text, just as I was serving up Sunday dinner to Joseph and the five current residents. Thank God I had it on vibrate and Joseph didn't as much as flinch, so I thought I had got away with it, but all through the dinner my nerves became frazzled and I was so anxious. Truly I didn't know how much longer I could keep up this daily charade.

"Theresa, my dear, you seem out of sorts, a little jumpy, is there anything wrong?" Joseph asked as she put his bowl of rice pudding in front of him. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing it hard and pulled her down to his eye level, "Well? Cat got your tongue?"

"No, Joseph, I'm sorry, I have a violent headache and feel unwell. May I be excused?" She lied, quick thinking on her part, but then she was used to it.

"Have you any painkillers?" he said, still holding her wrist and watching her every facial movement. "Yes, in my room I think, I need to lie down or I am going to throw up." (All over you... The last bit she thought in her head.)

"Okay Theresa, take your tablets and lie down for an hour, I will send up one of the girls to wake you and then you can finish your chores."

His reply was edged with suspicion, she could feel it intuitively that he wasn't happy with this 'tale'. Joseph could count on one hand how many times Theresa had been ill and now these 'headaches' were becoming a bit too frequent.

"Thank you, Joseph." I said and left the room, bounding up the stairs to read the text message which could only be from Brian, and erase it ASAP, just in case Joseph decided to check my phone, which he hadn't done for quite a while, to my knowledge. The message was brief and to the point.

"We have found something; you need to see it ASAP."

End of scene three.

Back in the comfy warm chairs of the cinema, Theresa continues to tell her tale to David.

"I was so excited and my mind was in a whirl, I wanted to drop everything and run to Brian, to listen to what they had found out, but I did not dare. I would have to wait, until Tuesday probably, the quickest I could reasonably go to the shops again without stirring Joseph's suspicious mind any further. At last they were getting somewhere so I lay down on my bed, in my room, paid for off the backs of those innocent children, dreaming of the day when this would be all over.

Despite my diligence and acting ability, Joseph increasingly became more watchful over me; it was like he could smell my fear. So I cut my visits down to Brian's and stopped meeting him in the cinema, as Joseph had surprised me by coming in with me, a sure sign he thought something was wrong. We had to be patient.

I lost my mobile, on purpose, just in case he checked my usage, as it was only a 'pay as you go' one. It meant there were no written bills for him to check over my calls, or track my messages, but to be better safe than sorry I took it to the canal and threw it in, severing yet another access to Brian and Mary.

Joseph was furious with me and my carelessness and refused to get me another, but when I said that was okay, I'd buy my own, he also cut my allowance making it impossible for me to afford one.

We managed to keep in touch though, Brian would send notes via Mary, which were hidden in a wall two doors away from the home, where the cement had crumbled, leaving just enough room for a piece of paper. Brian told me this was the old fashioned way of 'texting', he did make me laugh nearly all the time and I was surprised that this method, used by many a resistance movement, actually worked so well.

A whole eight months passed, since the false address and the letters incident, and although all three of us wanted to complete the bringing down of Joseph's empire, we recognised that we must be patient, as not to put me in harm's way as Brian and Mary did not know what Joseph was capable of, and what he might do to keep me quiet.

It was the spring of 1999 when they came up with another idea, well Mary did. She had finished school and left with eight GCSE's, thanks mostly to Brian's support of her education, making her study hard, and she had even improved her use of the English language, losing the east end accent and refining her speech, so now I could understand what she said!

Mary went on to get a place at the local college to do a Nursery Nurse Diploma, which she passed gaining a triple distinction, the highest award. Not at all bad for Mary, as school had been the least interesting place for her when we met all those years ago. It was down to Brian's care and encouragement and possibly my help and friendship which motivated her to do more with her life. I tried to show her that she had all the chances - where I had none.

She applied for and got her first job in a day care centre, up near the precinct but it the spring of 1999 it announced it was shutting down, so she would soon be out of a job. This had given Mary an idea, which she explained to me on one of our arranged secret meetings, this time at a chemist in town.

I was picking up some tablets for myself. My headaches had turned out to be migraines, and the chemist had confirmed it. They were no longer a ploy to use as the migraines had become real, I thought it was because of all the stress I was under, but the kindly chemist explained to me, it probably due to a hormone imbalance because of my age. It was good to have a proven reason, an explanation for my occasional 'odd' behaviour, on which I could blame anything when asked about something by Joseph.

The chemist said I should see a Doctor as me I was peri-menopausal. The menopause usual begins at fifty but the symptoms can start much earlier. I did not like to discuss my woman bits or problems with Joseph but it was guaranteed way to make him shut up and change the subject, so I used it as a weapon to get me out of some very tight spots. It made for a good excuse when I needed to get away. I couldn't go to a Doctor anyway, they were the 'authorities' that held your records and of course, I didn't have any so Joseph would say, so they wouldn't treat me. I was lucky in that I never got so ill as to need a Doctor, all my nights in cold rooms at the homes I had been in and nights out on the streets had hardened me.

What I didn't realise, what the chemist and everyone else didn't tell me, was that I hadn't got long before I could no longer have a baby. The chemist had said my Doctor would prescribe me patches to wear, which I told Brian about asking him why a Doctor had would do that when I didn't smoke anymore. Of course, Mary and Brian went into howls of laughter and later when we had a chance, Brian explained to me what the menopause would mean for me.

I'll tell you, David, I cried a lot over that, even though having a baby myself had never entered my head. Just knowing that I soon would not have the ability to conceive seemed unfair, especially when all my life I have done nothing but 'care' for the children of others. It was a cruel twist of fate - for Brian as well, but he assured me, he loved me more for the graceful way I accepted it. I had said there were lots of unloved children and babies out there for us to foster or adopt. That's if the powers that be would ever let me near children again."

"Mmm, a difficult dilemma Tee. The clock has spun round so quickly for you and you have never given an ounce of thought to your own life. You have never considered having a husband and a family of your own. Now you have Brian and it is almost too late for those things, yet you still put others first. It is commendable and I am sure Brian could see that."

David always knew the right things to say, just like her Brian. They were similar in so many ways. "Come on now, Tee, stop those tears, we are nearly there..."

"Sorry David. Where was I before I digressed so much... ah yes...

Joseph had not liked the fact I had been talking to a chemist but surprisingly he allowed it. I suppose he didn't want his best asset, me, ill and unable to perform my duties. My duties had become many, as the home was always full to capacity. Where it had been twelve kids in the bedrooms we had now moved up into the attic as well, making beds on the flooring Joseph had put in, so now we could accommodate another four kids.

The attic wasn't finished off properly, no insulated roof, all bare rafters and slates which had moved in last year's strong winds and let in the elements, it was freezing up there. The staircase had seen better days, no bathroom - just a bucket, no electric lights - just a paraffin heater and an old lamp. It worried me to death, as it was such a big fire risk up there.

Joseph had spent weeks moving all the 'stock' he had up there. I sort of knew he traded in counterfeit goods as well; some that I bet were stolen. I had broken into the attic ages ago and found boxes of cigarettes to which, of course, I helped myself. There were boxes and boxes of other profitable items and crates of alcohol but I think he gave up doing this illegal trade as the other illegal profession as a 'carer' was much more profitable, with less of his financial outlay and more to his liking so instead he made it yet another bedroom.

Anyway back to the point, I had told Mary I was finding it hard to cope with everything. All the washing, cleaning, shopping and feeding about fifteen kids and sometimes as many as twenty; sleeping anywhere there was floor space, including my room.

I complained to Joseph, that I could no longer cope alone, even with using the older kids (old being thirteen or fourteen) as help. They came and went so quickly that I purely didn't have the time to train them and they were simply too young for the bigger tasks, like planning meals and cooking for so many. They couldn't go out to do the shopping either, so I had a right proper rant at Joseph that went something like this...

"Why don't you ever help with me with these chores? You never even take the all the rest of the rubbish out – you just clean your own room and office!" I used my best 'I'm not going to put up with this anymore' voice.

Joseph in his usually 'I am not listening to you or you don't matter voice' replied, "That's what you are here for and if you are getting too old to cope with it, then I'd better be looking for somebody a bit younger and then you can go back and starve on the streets, you selfish bitch!"

It was a threat he told me often, and before; the thought of being out there alone, made me reign in my problems and cow tow to his demands. This time however, I confronted him not letting him get away with the usual taunts.

"It might be a good idea to get a youngster in to help out, in fact if you don't do it I will leave!" Wow, how brave of me! His reaction was not what I expected either. I expected to be hit, or locked in my room, denied food and comfort, but he must be getting soft in his old age as he agreed!

He agreed that the number of kids they were managing had nearly doubled and he supposed the work had too. He said would advertise for a part-time assistant for me, but his decision would be final. I thanked him before he changed his mind, backing out of his office as I had mistakenly crossed the threshold by a single step whilst in my rant, breaking the vow that I would never go in there. It didn't really matter now; I was consistently breaking my self- inflicted boundaries daily.

The next day Joseph gave me a card to put in the corner shop - Brian's corner shop. It said;

'Wanted part-time nanny for a private home.

Duties; cleaning and cooking, helping to look after children.

Hours 16 to 20 per week.

Pay to be discussed dependant on qualifications and references being checked.'

"As soon as Mary saw the card she took it down as she didn't want competition, she wanted the job as she had an idea. When she told Brian and me about her plan we had mixed feelings. Mary getting involved at such close quarters was risky but the opportunity of having another pair of eyes, and with her younger age, the kids might open up more to her and Brian could legitimately introduce himself as her brother, with some reason or other to call on Joseph.

There would be more opportunities if she were on the inside, Mary explained to us. All three of them could close in, bait the hook and draw in the net, hoping Joseph would make a mistake, and it might be possible for Mary to get into his office and check out his computer.

Yes David, Mary was full of ideas too tempting to pass up on, so it was agreed. We prepared false references, and decided to dress Mary much younger than her twenty-four years and being of short stature she could easily pass for sixteen or less. I thought that if she had an air of innocence and purity, and presented herself as a devout Roman Catholic, (for which I would teach her on what to say and how to act) Mary would be like sweet honey to Joseph. He would be stupid to pass on her, that and the fact that after two weeks of advertising, she was the only applicant.

It worked, and after only a thirty minutes of her interview; he offered her the job, to start on the next Monday at 6 am sharp, to be ready for preparing and serving breakfast. He introduced me as the 'house mother' (which made us both howl later) and she carried the part off impeccable, without a shred of evidence that she knew me, and being very pious and shy, just as I had taught her for her role of danger and subterfuge.

* * * * *

## Chapter Nine – Making plans

Brian bought Mary and me new mobile phones, ones with camera, to be kept in secret - out of sight from Joseph. They were to be used to take photos of the unfortunate kids that passed through our hands and record as much evidence as possible about the goings on in this so called home. I was finding all the intrigue and suspense nerve racking as well as carrying all the guilt from the knowledge I now had. The future of these children depended on Mary and me. They kept assuring me I could do nothing about the past, but it cut me in two and the stress began to show.

We all agreed the next step had to be getting into Joseph's private quarters, his office and his computer. I still never crossed the threshold - unless by accident as in my rage the last time, so it had to be Mary. I have only ever stood at his door to receive a new child, or to have new orders bellowed at me from his 'highness', as I called him to Mary.

For Mary however it was a different story. Joseph from the moment her met her, showed a real interest, and when she asked him if he could help with her religious studies, it was like taking candy from a baby - he jumped at it.

It was her innocence and demur character that attracted him as she dressed like a child still at school. A black suit with white shirt, complete with a bow at the neck, the skirt hem just above her knees, her hair in a ponytail tied with a ribbon, and then the piece de resistance, white knee length socks, with t-bar black flat shoes. The outfit was erotically enticing to Joseph, unlike the scruffy kids that passed through our hands, unclean and in dirty rags. Even when I cleaned them up they did not arouse him in the same way as Mary did. It was a new feeling for him, I think.

At sixteen, (we lied about her real age on her application form, David, as I knew he wouldn't want a grown woman with a mind of her own.) Where was I, Oh yes...Mary was older than his normal taste for young girls, but there was something about her that was waiting to be exploited - she was a virgin. Mary had told him this (as part of our plan) during their regular study period; she was waiting for the right man to come along, as she wanted marriage and to have a family within the sight of God, of course. It worked as Mary reported to us she felt Joseph craved to be that man to take her innocence."

"Yes Tee, I can see how that would of worked for him. What you have intuitively picked up on his desires, his preference for the 'child' in a woman's body, all clean and fresh, untainted, unspoilt, ready for the taking. It was his downfall when a younger man and it was your mother that suffered at his hands. Mary reminded him of Catherine, your mother, as she was when he had made his first declaration of love to her and defiled her, taking her virginity too. But you could never have possibly known this. It was his first true experience of love and it went so horribly wrong for him - all those years ago. And now with another chance presenting itself he would be unable to resist Mary, keeping the 'child' in the budding womanly body long enough for him to take away the cherry of her innocence. The best taste of all to him, this vile predator, was a loving and giving innocent - he would devour her whole."

"Oh David, If we had known that we would never of done this. I can't believe my own unknown mother suffered first at his hands! And then me! Was this all his plan?"

"I'm afraid it was, Tee. His sick and twisted reign over your parents, but all this will be revealed to you at the right time, for now – onwards please!"

Theresa, shaken, continues. "It was all part of the plan. Mary would gain his trust and keep him occupied, teasing and tantalising him. We had a backup plan if things got out of hand, she had a rape alarm stowed away in her bra, amongst her ample bust, and if I heard it I would phone the police at once, and then Brian so he could rush round and rescue his sister from this perverts sickening grasp.

Mary had her bible studies once a week on a Sunday evening, as not to interfere with her duties in the home. Everything was going to plan, she had even managed to hide a voice recorder on herself, which she had cleverly bought and had shown Brian, the 'technophobes' and me, how to use it. The idea being that Mary would record their sessions and upload them onto Brian's home computer so they could listen to them together and then I could put her right on any religious points she might encounter, and of course, they would have any slip ups he made, recorded in his own distinctive Irish lilt.

The evidence was increasing at a rapid pace now. Joseph had stopped his hawk like watch over me as his view was now firmly fixed on Mary, and she played with him, drawing him in as any good fisherman would, playing the line and reel into the landing net. Joseph was lured ever tighter into her confidence but it took another six weeks to get him "relaxed and pliable" as Mary told us. To the stage where he started to reveal the odd snippet, giving a chance for Mary to innocently question him. He never saw her as a threat, like he did me, who had been with him now for over thirty years. He would never let me get close to him like he did this wonderful young woman who was everything he could want in an obedient and pious wife.

I think it was something Joseph had never let cross his mind, especially given his age and mine and all our sordid history, but Mary? I think here we should listened to his thoughts, David."

### Scene Four

The image on the screen moved to Joseph's office, where he was sat at his big desk, deep in thought and although his lips did not move, Theresa and David could listen in as he was writing his most private thoughts of that time into his journal.

"It is the 27th of November 1999 I plan to ask Mary to marry me - after she had given me her most valuable asset - that is a must. A new millennium, the year 2000 is ahead and what better way to mark this transition from one century to the next? Her pull is so strong; I want her more than I have ever wanted any 'young' girl, as is my taste, but that is another urge and nothing like this pure, unadulterated love. I have fallen in true love, I believe, only the second time ever in my whole life to date. I love her, my beautiful, innocent Mary Mitchell.

What irony! Theresa instigated this opportunity for me. The bastard child of the last woman I ever loved, all those years ago, and I have fulfilled my promise to her. I remember as she lying in bed after delivering her bastard into the world, I told her I would make sure she never knew another man's love, and that I would watch over my bastard god daughter and I have – she has never known another man but me! And now she has found my Mary, the only woman child who has ever lit the fire in my heart as her own mother did."

Here Joseph throws his head back laughing loudly. He continues writing.

"I want her virginity first as her commitment to me. I need to make sure she will subjugate herself to me, but as yet, she is still aloof, so teasing and yet so innocent... and totally unaware my feelings for her. She is proving more difficult than I had hoped and it makes me all the hungrier for her. But – I don't want to scare her off; she isn't like the abandoned destitute kids where I always find a button to press to gain there trust and obedience. I need something I can hold over her, as I do with Theresa. She has always been terrified of ending up back to the streets, and of losing her home. At her age now she wouldn't last a week - so I keep telling her. She would be picked up as the trash she is and bunged away in an asylum! Lost and forgotten, until death do you part, a fitting end to the bastard child of the woman I so longed for in the past."

End scene four

Back in the cinema Theresa turns to David. "In reality, David, I did not believe this, I had Brian to love and cherish. I knew in my heart of hearts, he would never see me lost and forgotten, but I cleverly let Joseph think I was petrified at the thought of being cast out, defenceless and alone, or being sent back into an institution of any kind.

To this date I had now accumulated over twenty-five notebooks, in them, all recorded accurately, were the years of recording the goings on at the home, 'the sanctuary for lost souls ' as I had named it. Twenty of them were safely in Brian's hands with numerous folders' of letters Joseph had posted out to bogus addresses, which Brian or Mary would go and retrieve when at all possible. They were all written to make the home seem 'legit', on paper that is. There was nothing legit about it and now we were just beginning to find out the whole horror of what happened to the 'lost souls' in 'Joseph land'.

Joseph had given a letter for me to post to a person and address I had never come across before. At last! This is what they had been hoping for, a slip up in his normally ridged routine, either I had picked it up with the normal pile of bogus post which I still posted as we needed the post mark as proof, or he had put it in the wrong pile, as he preferred to see to his 'private' post himself.

I took the letter straight round to Brian before I posted them all, so he could steam it open and copy it on his new scanner for the computer, such clever technologies, and so helpful to us in our espionage. I glued it back together and posted it just in time for the last postal collection, after all it would make Joseph suspicious if it didn't arrive at its destination.

The letter was to an individual called Serge Dubrovsky, obviously some Serbian or Russian, we guessed, not just his surname but because some of the kids coming into the home had similar foreign sounding surnames. The letter said quite simply, in English;

Serge,

I have three young girls you may be interested in. They will be ready on Friday for collection at the usual place. I shall have to charge more as costs at the home keep rising with the increase of numbers to meet your demands. I am positive these three will be worth it. They are six, nine and twelve, and these sisters have been in the business for quite a while; their mother is a drug addict and there is no father on the scene. She had been using them herself to pay for her habit but she overdosed and died. A trusted informant let me know and I got to them before the authorities. I have them sedated but you can inspect the merchandise as agreed and all together the cost is £3,000.

If you like they can be split up, the 12 year old would be ideal to train in the sex slave ring or for prostitution; she is hooked on smack already and should be easy to move on. The younger two are not on any drugs other than the diazepam, as you know, it makes the transition a lot smoother. They are perfect for the paedophile market and I have a good collection of photos of them, which I will include on a disc. You will soon get your money back Serge, and more beside. Have we a deal? Answer in the usual manner and I will set up the drop off for Friday as previously discussed.

Yours,

Joseph Bennett.

"Got him! I was jumping up and down inside with what this meant. It was hand written by Joseph - unmistakeably. It would match the other hand written letters I had dug out of the rubbish. It was still a shock even though our suspicions had been confirmed. It was all I could think about, David; we had him bang to rights! And then I thought of the harrowing future the three sisters would have. How could we prevent it? We had four days to plan something – I simply could not let another child go through my hands to this fate.

My remorse hit me hard; all those hundreds of children sent all round the world to satisfy a pervert's most grosses needs. I was sick, physically and violently sick; Brian held my hair off my face whilst I threw up in his sink. "It's not your fault Tee, you could do nothing for them then, but now we can." I loved it when he called me Tee, like you do David.

Slowly I regained my composure enough to go back to the hell house before I was missed. My thoughts then were of you, my friend and your whereabouts, as I had never found out about what had happened to you. Remember the money we saved in my little backpack? Of course it had all a gone long time ago and at that time I felt I had abandoned my search for you when I came to live with Joseph. It was all so wrong; nothing had turned out like we had talked about and I really hoped you hadn't ended up like one of these kids.

Of course I know different now, David, but I want you to know I thought of you often and never gave up hope that I might find you - one day. Not in a million years did I imagine it would be quite like... now where was I?

It was all I could think about back then; whilst I still berated myself for the part I had played so willingly in all this, and for what? My own comfortable room, a bed, a bath and three square meals a day \- how cheap was my soul! I cried all night, on and off, ramming my face into my pillow as not to wake the house or the three tiny blonde heads on my floor under a duvet, clinging to each other in their sleep.

I had bathed them earlier that day, and whilst I was drying their beautiful golden blonde hair I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have three beautiful girls like these, as daughters. I knew I had missed any chance of having any family myself, besides - what kind of mother would I of made? When all this shit hits the fan, I'll be lucky if they let me own a dog was all I could think, and it made me cry even harder into my already wet pillow. I grieved for the children I would never have and for those three little heads peeking out above the duvet on my floor - what hope was there for them? I silently told myself off; I had to be strong for them and think! Think of a plan, some way to get them out of here and to safety.

The letter to Serge had been addressed to the West India docks, Harbour Quay, Unit 27 on the Isle of Dogs, just a short walk from Canary Wharf. Joseph had taken me there once, as a treat to see all the new development going on. It was probably a warehouse, or false offices, Brian and I agreed when we looked it up on a map and we worked out it was about thirty minutes away by tube but we didn't know if this was the meeting place Joseph referred too, or whether that was somewhere else. How were we to find out?

We eventually agreed, turning all our ideas and options over and over that Mary was going to have to get the three girls out of the home as a priority, but they had to hatch a distraction plan to get Joseph out of the home so we could move them and make out that they had somehow ran away. In fact they would be hidden in the attic, which was presently unoccupied. I knew the 'shit would hit the fan' (Mary's saying, not mine...) as far as I was concerned and all the blame would come down on me but I would bear it. It was nothing compared to what would happen to these little angels if we failed in rescuing them.

On the Thursday before the drop off which we hoped was still set up for the following day, Mary and I put our plan into action. We did breakfast for all the kids that were in residence at 7.00 to 8.00 a.m. as normal. Joseph hardly ever joined us, as he preferred his all his meals, except Sunday's dinner, in his private quarters.

Mary went into my room and as quiet as a mouse snuck the three girls into the attic and stayed there with them to make sure they stayed quiet. It wasn't difficult as they were still under the influence of whatever drug Joseph had given them.

I went and told Joseph that Mary's brother had rang (which he had done so Joseph would hear the phone ringing) informing us that Mary was sick, with the flu. We had already seeded this worrying thought in Joseph's mind by discussing it with in his earshot, about this terrible flu bug that was going around and killing so many old and infirm people.

We need this done as a scene too, David please."

"As you majesty demands..." David smiled the smile of an angel that warmed her soul and Theresa felt some of the stress and tension from re-living this part of her life melting away...

### Scene Five.

I knocked on Joseph's door and expertly delivered the information as the practised actress I had become. Joseph swallowed it, no awkward questioning other than - "Has Mary been in contact with any of the kids, were any of them showing signs of being ill?"

"We are lucky in that we do not have many kids in at the moment, only the two young boys and an older girl of fourteen and they were all at breakfast and seemed fine." I replied.

"What about the three new girls you let sleep on the floor in your room last night instead of the nice comfortable beds that were made up for them? Nothing gets passed me, Theresa." Joseph stressed in his warning voice.

"I let them sleep in my room as they seemed so out of it and I was concerned for them, they seemed ill. They were still fast asleep when I got up to prepare breakfast, so I left them and went back up to get them when it was ready but they would not come down to eat, they were so dopey and unable to stay awake, so I left them to sleep it off. They're still up there." I explained. "I'm concerned Joseph, they don't seem 'normal' in comparison to the other kids, but I don't think it's the flu like Mary has. I'm just going to take a tray up to them when I have finished in the kitchen. I'll let you know if they haven't perked up." I was relieved, as he seemed to accept my well-told lie.

Joseph sat and mulled over the speech Theresa had just given him and decided to go check his merchandise for himself, whilst she was busy clearing away the pots in the kitchen. He was worried as it was imperative that they were well, as Serge would not take three sick kids readily - too much trouble.

I heard Joseph's thunderous footsteps come crashing down the stairs and he burst angrily into the kitchen

"Where they bloody hell have they gone Theresa?" he screamed at me.

"Where has who gone?" I replied flinching, waiting for the first blow to land. He grabbed my arm and practically dragged me upstairs to my room shouting all the way.

"The bloody girls from your room! What you done with them, Theresa? You've not been getting too attached or had any of your funny ideas now. Theresa, explain this?"

He pushed me hard from behind into my room where nearly an hour ago, Mary had snuck the slightly doped up girls out passed the room that the older girl was in, and then up to the not so safe attic, locking the door behind her. She had cleverly got her hands on the key a while back and had another cut and then put the original back, all without Joseph noticing. When empty of any extra kids he kept the attic locked and it was part of the plan that Joseph didn't think to check up there – which he didn't as there were only a few kids in.

"Well Theresa? I am waiting for a fucking explanation!" Oh dear, swear words, I really was in trouble and I was going to need some of those Oscar acting skills to get through this charade.

"I don't know Joseph; I left them asleep on my floor - honest." He belted me quick one to the head, knocking me right off my feet but luckily I landed on my bed.

"It doesn't bloody look like it from where I'm standing. How the fucks have they got out? All the windows are nailed shut. They didn't come past my quarters, they must have come down and out the front door, brazen little hussies, obviously not as doped as they made out eh Theresa." His face was that close I could see how old he had got and he smelt like an old man, stale cigarettes and whisky.

While Joseph reasoned with himself, I made sure I looked shocked, suitably penitent, and crying hard as I could, which wasn't hard at all as I truly feared for my safety if he found out what we have done and what was planned.

"Get the other kids in the dining room now and question them, they might have seen something", Joseph ordered me. I didn't need asking twice and ran past him. I was sure the other three kids had seen nothing as I had kept them in the kitchen helping with the breakfast and, of course, the girls had gone up not down, so at no time had their paths crossed.

Joseph was furious. I had not seen him this angry in a very long time, not since I had broken into the attic and helped myself to his ill-gotten gains he kept up there and it was the first time in years that he had actually hit me. My ear was still ringing but it was worth it if they managed to get the girls out safely.

With the other kids suitable questioned and sent to their respective rooms, Joseph came into the kitchen. "I'm going to the police station to report them as missing and you will stay here in case they just wandered out by mistake and come back. Do you hear me Theresa?" he bellowed. I just nodded.

I was truly frightened now. I thought this was a strange move for Joseph considering the state of the girls and getting the 'authorities' involved – it felt wrong. It was something we had not anticipated but it played out in our favour.

Ten minutes later Joseph left - car keys in hand, with yet more orders for me to stay put in case they came back. Fat chance, I thought, and couldn't help a snide look from crossing my face.

As soon as I was sure Joseph had gone I raced up to the attic to tell Mary it was all clear, but they must hurry as he could come back at any time. The three girls had recovered enough for them to be told what was going on and that they were being rescued and taken to somewhere safe.

Very obediently they followed Mary's instructions to be quiet as they snuck back down the creaky loft ladder and down the flight of stairs, out of the front door with a quick wave to me, running now, down the drive, onto the street, round the corner to the road where the shop was, and where Brian was waiting to help take them up to the flat above the shop. We had done it!

End scene five.

* * * * *

## Chapter Ten – Joseph's Tale

"Oh, if only life was that simple, David, we had no idea..." Remembering it made me feel defeated.

"What happened Tee? Take your time; I can see this is painful for you..."

"Well, you see this bit is about Joseph... and I am not sure how to tell it?"

"Not a problem, Tee, just as the last time we will look at it from Joseph point of view from where you left off. Let him tell his tale. Okay?"

### Scene Six

Joseph is sat deep in thought in his car.

"I had watched the girls and my bride to be, Mary, fleeing the home from a distance. I was now safely tucked away in my car, about a hundred and fifty yard's down from the corner shop, facing up the street on the opposite side of the road. When I stormed out of the home to go to the police, in reality I went to my car and pulled out of the drive, turning left and then some short distance off I had stopped and parked up – there was no way I was going to the police but I had to collect myself, get my thoughts together so I was sat pondering on what to do when I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the little brats and the teasing woman child running away - I could not believe my eyes!

I turned the car around as quickly as the traffic allowed and followed them from a safe distance; they were too intent on their escape to notice me. Surprisingly they stopped at the corner shop and disappeared inside! Bloody little tramp she is in cohorts with my bastard goddaughter who had now spoiled my perfect woman child. What did all this mean? Could they have found out?

Serge would be furious, and so would his backer, that Italian bloke, Antonio. I still owe a debt to him for saving my life from a Chinese gang out for my blood. Back then I had a rather large gambling debt I owed this triad. Antonio took on the debt and I had to agree to repay his 'kindness' by using my practically derelict house as a safe house for storing stolen goods; counterfeit cigarettes, booze and the odd bloke on the run from the law. Well, that was all it was in the beginning.

As I sat in my car, lost in thoughts and memories, my hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel, and gaze fixed on the door of the shop, all I could think about was those early days when I had started out in London.

I had bought this massive Victorian four-bed house for a steal, with the money I inherited from my brother William who had passed away in Ireland, from pancreatic cancer. William was the lucky sod who got to marry Theresa's Mum, Catherine, and the love of my life until Mary had come along. I never even sent a condolence card to her, never mind going to Ireland for the funeral – I knew I would never be welcomed. The opposite in fact, I would be hounded out! The bible bashing, hypercritical Catholics would stop at nothing, only just holding back from a public stoning - a fitting end from the bible for me - the 'pervert priest'.

It wasn't a fortune but enough to set myself up comfortably with a house and car and still have change. I lived the high life for a while, booze, sex, drugs, rock and roll and all that jazz, and I got hooked on cocaine, the rich man's drug of choice. There was gambling too and initially I used the house as a place to flop, but later to host poker games, a bit of dog fighting, fist fighting, cockerel fighting and it didn't stop until I ran out of money and began to use the credit offered by these underworld types.

The Italian mafia man, Antonio, who bought my eventual debt of forty-five thousand pounds, got me to sign an agreement which basically said that if I defaulted on the debt, by not paying what was due, or following the direct orders from him the 'Boss', I would forfeit the house and my life.

I managed to get myself clean and sober as I realised the chances of being able to do as asked, in my current drug and alcohol induced state, were nil and I was more likely to end up a concrete pillar in some new bypass bridge - never to be heard of again.

It was at this time of feeling low and useless that I had turned back to lusting over young girls, the younger the better, which gave me an idea, a plan to release me from this debt quicker than all the counterfeit stock I sold, so I went to see Antonio.

I outlined a plan for starting a 'home for runaways', but to keep it under the radar of socials services, explaining that when it was established as a private foster home of sorts, it could be used as a front for the sex trade. I was surprised how quickly Antonio had jumped at the idea; he must have known how lucrative it could be. Although personally, he told me it was a vile trade, he could not resist the profit that could be made at this dangerous game. It took all night but we thrashed out all the details and a repayment schedule for my 'loan'.

There were no identifying signs to the house, just the street number at the permanently locked black iron gates. Money had not been spared on the security and privacy issues. The house was set back behind some tall trees that hid nearly all of it from view. It was very secluded for a house in the suburbs; in fact to get a good look at the house you would have to go three quarters down the drive to even see the front door. The post box was on the gates so no person, without reason, could enter the property and had to ring the house via a telephone at the gate to gain entrance.

Before I found Theresa, I would scour the streets of London looking for any runaways, dressed in my priest's collar and black suit, as to give the children a false sense of safety and someone they should be able to trust. Antonio's men did the other major cities in their own ways, which I gave no thought too. It was difficult to go out looking for these homeless kids when I had to lock the others up, reasonably secure in the home, with one of Antonio's 'goons' as help. Antonio himself wanted nothing further to do with this venture. He kept his distance from the home and from me, just in case it was discovered. He wanted plausible deniability, so he told me and of course, his debt paid off in cash.

With this new very lucrative venture I managed to reduce my debt to twenty-five thousand and at the rate it was going it wouldn't take much longer to pay it off completely. When completed I would negotiate new terms, getting back the deeds to my house and a bigger share of the profit.

Mary – I was to marry my Mary and have a new life and that bastard bitch, Theresa, has ruined it all! I couldn't help but think back to those early years when the home was established, and I had all the procedures and plans for the acquisition and disposal of the kids in place. That was when I found Theresa and I could not believe my luck. I could finally get rid of the worthless 'goon' Antonio had given him as help and welcome Theresa back into my family. I had thought I would never see her again after my exile from Ireland but it seems fate had other plans for her and I got to keep my promise to her mother. I was lucky that she was in a real destitute state; and could see she had been prostituting herself. She was on 'dope' or some other nasty cheap drug that helped take the edge off her dismal existence.

I took my time with Theresa and used my powers of persuasion by understanding her 'needs' as leverage, and dangling the biggest carrot of a true and proper home, with all the comforts and security it would offer, even though it meant she would have to forgive and forget the past abuse. I used my commitment to this charade of rescuing runaways as a penance for my sins and by making it sound like she would be doing the right thing, for these 'lost souls'. Bingo, hook line and sinker, I had her! I won her round with these false promises and lies and she worked scrupulously and tirelessly for me, and all for the good of the 'poor wee little mites, God bless 'em' \- and on top of that she did it for peanuts.

From her point of view, I suppose she thought she had never had it so good, and the home did improve because of her. She was very good with the children, especially the younger ones; I guess it was her maternal instinct coming into play. I did think initially that the older ones could prove to be tricky as I didn't want them 'talking' to her, just in case they let something slip or did something to make her suspect that all was not as it seemed.

So I bought drugs from Antonio, to sedate them with when I picked them up and kept them dosed up until they were shipped out. I explained to Theresa that many of these runaways, like herself, used drugs to ease their pain and suffering and had to go through the horrors of withdrawal as she herself had. It was best done slowly, monitored carefully and we didn't have the time or staff to do it so it was kinder to keep them sedated. Eventually where ever they were placed, they would do the hard task of breaking the dependency chain. It was easy to baffle the simpleton that was my bastard goddaughter, or so I had thought.

I did all the dosing of the kids in my office, out of Theresa's sight. I knew she would never go in there, she never as much as crossed the threshold, even when I was introducing a new kid or giving her orders for the day. I kept records for each child, where they were found, their height, weight, skin colour, medical issues, in fact anything that might affect the price of the merchandise, and for what route it was to be groomed for.

Sometimes it was old Polaroid shots to be covertly, sold by post, and now with the increases in technology it had become easier and even more of an open market - the great wonder that the Internet was. Now I had the world at my fingertips and the black market sex trade was worldwide and I had made myself a fortune. I had long since paid off my debt to Antonio and now had the deeds back to my home, although he still took a large cut – I was a rich man. A lonely rich man who had just had his world kicked in the bollocks and his dream wedding cancelled along with his rosy red future.

It seems Theresa's memory was long and she would never totally trust him. I had miscalculated her abilities it seems. I wasn't all that heartless, I let her have free reign in the house and even helped her to decorate it and fill it with cheap, nasty second-hand furniture. I was always amused and secretly laughed when she gushed about how homely it was now, better than the dirty wreck before she had come to clean it all up for me. It may have been all Theresa's doing, and I actively encouraged anything she instigated that helped to keep things quiet, run smoothly, and keep her in the dark. I thought I could hear everything that went on in this hollow, echoing Victorian piece of history and I kept track of her every move and had gained her trust. Why else would she have stayed with me all these years? Apparently - I have been played...

I was undecided, whether to go back to the home and beat Theresa black and blue until she told me what had been going on, or to go round to the corner shop where the brother and the bewitching slut 'Mary' lived. I knew of the friendship Theresa had developed with them, but I hadn't suspected that it went any further than work colleagues or casual acquaintances. At the home, Theresa gave the orders like a matriarch, and little Mary would nod, bow her pretty little head and get on with whatever had been demanded of her. I never saw them have more than a five-minute conversation and from what I heard it was always about the home or the kids. Theresa could be a demon though, when she wanted to be, her temper was impressive but I managed to control her, finding them 'special buttons' to press.

After more than an hour of recollecting memories, pondering on what to do and watching the shop, I decided to go back to the home and return later to have a word with the brother and the 'sick' Mary, showing my concern as an employer and of course, to ask her if she had witnessed anything out of the ordinary going on in the home, concerning the whereabouts of the three little sisters.

Mary could not have got a look at them, as I had delivered them to the home under the cover of darkness the night before, and she had already gone home. The sight of her coming from the direction of the home with the three little golden heads in tow when she was supposedly sick with flu, and then the brother, waiting on the doorstep of his shop absolutely bowled me over; it quite literally came from the left field. I never so much as glimpsed the deceit, the treachery, coming. I had been too complacent, wrapped up with desire for the woman child and a future they now denied me. I was fit to burst with anger and hatred. They had herded the girls into shop, put the closed sign up and all had gone quiet as I, Joseph Bennett, started shitting bricks. How much did they know? All three of them must be involved in this 'rescue' if that's what it was. It couldn't be anything else, could it?

I am furious with Theresa. At first I thought a beating would do, or should I torture the cow into giving up all she knew? Was the devious woman child, Mary, the pinnacle of my affections, my planned future bride, who was to see me into my dotage and retirement, fully blissed out on her sweet sugar and with all the erotic pleasure she would have given me, was she complicit too? My future has been ripped away... Such a shame, I've been conned - well and truly stitched up.

I marched straight passed Theresa, who had hardly moved from the front door, no doubt frozen in fear that they might be discovered. I said nothing but I think my anger was evident; you can't live together as long as we had and not know each other's traits and foibles."

Theresa, in the cinema that was her coma, put her hand up and asked to pause the film for a moment.

"I know Joseph's off by heart. He would lock himself in his office, bolting the door and he'd put on some very loud classical music depending on how bad his mood was. A mild temper we would get Beethoven, the blackest black temper would get us Elgar, and so on and so forth. Generally, I enjoyed the classics; Joseph had gone to great lengths introducing me to a world of art, culture, and music, such music that I never ever dreamed existed, except in Church, when during a service hymns would be sung by a beautiful choir of angelic Nuns. (Who relished in dishing out torture the rest of the time.) This was my view of the world, cruelly bent out of shape, educated by Joseph, who twisted my damaged persona so I did not have a normal appreciation of all things esoteric. But I have changed the topic again, David, let's see what else he was up too, press play..."

Back to Joseph in his office...

"I was striding up and down my wooden floor; loudly enough so Theresa would hear my footsteps over the blaring music. It was about 5 p.m. when I emerged, and I had quietened the music to a gentle country and western song. The house was still. The two young lads had been their room playing and the older girl was helping Theresa with dinner preparations, peeling some potatoes, not a word was being said other than 'pass a knife' or 'is this enough'. This young girl was definitely not one of the 'talkers' who barraged everyone with unlimited questions, expecting answers Theresa couldn't give them, and I wouldn't. Why are we here? Where are we going?" And so on... Theresa was hardly a fountain of all knowledge anyway, with her limited education, mostly provided by me

I made them jump by suddenly appearing in the doorway of the kitchen with the two boys by my side.

"I'm off to take the lads to their new foster parents; I had to ring and postpone it earlier, after the girl's disappearance, but as the police have found nothing new...." I lied, pausing for effect, "so I'm taking them now. I'll be gone about an hour, maybe two, depending on the traffic. Please stay inside Theresa, in case the girls find their way back, or the Police call round and keep your ear out for the phone. Take messages as there are going to be some disappointed parents who I had lined up for those three little angels, God preserve them," I fluffed out my lie for good measure, hoping Theresa would take the bait I had so cleverly laid out for her.

I had decided the best course of action would be to call their bluff, to see what they would do next, this brave trio of misfits. I had casually dropped a small notepaper, one of those fluorescent yellow sticky ones; whose name eluded me, in the hall, in a place Theresa was bound to find it, just outside of my office door. I suspected she would try and gain access to my records, if they hadn't already.

There wasn't much paper evidence nowadays as it was all on the hard drive of my computer, safely locked away behind many passwords and encryptions. I was certain that it was way above Theresa's computer skills; and after all I had taught her all she knew, but was it above the virginal slut, Mary and her boggled eyed brother? I left and in no time at all I was handing the boys over to one of Antonio's goons at the end of the street, where I could still glimpse the entrance to the driveway.

Antonio had agreed to take the lads off my hands due to the disappearance of the girls and dispose of them according to the plans already in motion. The place of drop off was on the Isle of Dogs where a white van, with some double glazing firm written all over the side, would be waiting to take these poor unfortunate boys onto their worst nightmare.

It had been an especially profitable sale to an Arab of some repute, who had a taste for young boys. Counterfeited paperwork and passports had been made at a great cost under the name of a private 'adoption'. The lads weren't even Arabic, Pakistani, or Indian, or coloured in any way. This Arab had a taste for young white meat, and they were going to a very certain life of cruel sexual acts, torture and eventual 'disposal' when the Arab in question, tired of them. A shame they couldn't be returned after his appetite had been satisfied for re-sale, but recycling hadn't reached the depths of paedophilia as yet. I really should stop laughing out loud at my own jokes!

"Pause David! Shouted Theresa – I remember this! "I had the name of this Arab! I overheard when I had my ear glued to Joseph's office door earlier that night, in case he had any suspicions' about Mary or me. I had thought it a welcome bonus that we might be in time to get the police to respond and rescue the lads before they set sail. We thought without question it would be a cargo ship or something similar, they would be hidden on, probably one of that Serge bloke..." Theresa said to David. "I'm beginning to remember more of what happened now, we're nearly at that time aren't we?"

"Yes, I'm afraid we are, but let's carry on to the end." With a big hug the scene burst into life again.

I did not have to wait very long as Theresa was running as if her life depended on it, round the corner to that bloody shop again. I gave her a minute to get ahead and then drove round and parked up out of sight. No one was to be seen on the pavement, the shop itself was dark and closed, which was unusual as it was normally open until ten at night, every night except Sunday.

Ten minutes passed and a very stressed out Theresa came out, running back in direction of the home. They now had the piece of information I wanted them to take note of, the meeting place where I was supposed to hand over the missing girls to Serge. In the car park near his unit on Harbour quay on the Isle of Dogs again, but this time there would be no Serge waiting, or one of Antonio's goons with his white vans, there'd be just me and a peace keeping friend. Wouldn't she be surprised to meet that friend, and that meddling brother of the whore 'Mary' or whatever her real name was. I could barely think about my stupidity at being 'played' by this trio, especially as my plans for a blissful retirement were now well and truly dashed. I would have my revenge - on all of them.

End scene six.

* * * * *

## Chapter Eleven – Capture and Evasion

"David, are we still watching Joseph's view?" Theresa asked her guardian angel.

"Yes, Tee, for now... I think it is best that you see, from his point of view, what happened up to the point of the shooting. I really want you to understand that there was nothing more you could have done. The wheels of this epic espionage are well and truly turning all by themselves now and you have played your part like the true heroine I know you are."

"Thank you, David, but a heroine? I don't think so... but let's continue."

"Roll cameras!" said the best friend she had ever had.

### Scene Seven.

Joseph is stood talking to Theresa in the hall...

As the next morning was Friday, the day of the proposed handover, I tried to appear normal, maybe a little moody and disgruntled, and was talking to Theresa about tightening up the security of the home, maybe installing some of them new security camera's. I made Theresa go and check every window, and every fire exit to make sure they were nailed close or chained up. She knew they were too, but gave a good show of concern, asking if the police had any news, and if they were going to come round and take statements. (In her best panicky voice of course.)

"I can't talk to the police, Joseph, what if I slip up and say something I shouldn't?" Theresa voiced this as if it were a challenge to him.

"Now, Theresa, you know better than that. If they come I will tell them you are of diminished capacity mentally and do not understand the workings of the world at large. You can stay in the kitchen, out the way, okay?" Theresa nodded. She understood the veiled threat.

What I meant was that if she did say anything incriminating I would have her sectioned and put in an asylum. I had threatened her with this many times before and she used to appear scared that I was able to do that, but not now. It seems her good friend's; Brian and Mary must have told her they would never let it happen. I could tell her fear was an act as her eyes held a slightly veiled challenge I had never seen before.

I had ingrained a fear of the 'authorities' into every fibre of her body, and drilled it into her that she should never, ever talk to them, in any shape or form. Theresa always had made a show of begging me to do it for her, as she did now and I would play along telling her not to worry, promising to handle everything and the best thing she could do now was to get back into her normal routine. She had become a proficient actress and I could not help but wonder how long had the cow been stringing me along? She even asked about Mary, if there had been any news? When would she be able to return to work? All normal. All routine. The 'other' matter now closed.

Theresa it seems now understood my act was ploy, a way to control her through fear. Mary and Brian had obviously helped her face down that particular demon, with their explanations that the 'authorities' are exactly the people she should be talking to.

End of scene seven.

David turned to Theresa; "I think it would be a good idea to see the next scene from Brain and Mary's view point, when Joseph turned up at the shop. We'll do it like before and enter the scene to watch them... ready Tee?"

"As my lord and master commands!" Theresa replied trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the increasing fear of her return to the present.

### Scene Eight

Brian is stood thinking behind the counter in the corner shop.

In the ten minutes they had to chat last night about the address for the drop off, it was decided that he should go and take some photos of whatever, or whoever turned up to meet Joseph, hopefully this Serge bloke. Afterwards they would all go to the police, with their collected evidence and the three young girls, called Martha, Rose, and Amelia.

They had opened up to Mary, telling her about their life with the drug addict mother and the absent father and about some of the unscrupulous men who wanted had sex with Martha, the eldest at twelve. She was going through some bad withdrawal off whatever drugs her own mother had plied her with. They told Mary, their Mother would tell them that these men paid a great deal more for Martha's 'loving service' than they would for her 'loving services', and the vile perverts made the two younger girls watch. It was sick.

Mary had actually thrown up. She could not comprehend the horror these angels had suffered at the hands of these perverts. It was just how Theresa had explained when that vile priest gave her his 'special loving therapy' when she was only six, telling her he was saving her immortal soul. It was twisted. When she finally got her sickness under control Mary told the girls she would make sure these blokes paid with their 'dick', making the girls chuckle, the first time they had an emotion other than blind terror of the unknown future ahead of them.

Mary answered her mobile surprised to see it was Theresa calling. She hurriedly explained that Joseph had just come into the kitchen where Theresa was trying to stay out of his way, and announced he was going out for a walk around the neighbourhood to question locals about the girls. She told Mary she felt this was a ploy, some trick to get her to panic or reveal something to him and as soon as he had gone, she had ran upstairs to get her hidden mobile to ring her and update her on all the happenings her end. Theresa said that she felt everything seemed to be on still, but to be careful as Joseph was making out he was looking for the girls around the neighbourhood, so to make sure they didn't look out a window or something to give there hideout away.

Mary ran down to the shop to inform Brian who had decided to open up to day as to keeping up appearances. Message delivered, Mary returned to her angels and Brian continued to serve a steady stream of customers with his normal cheery banter. In reality he was worried sick for Theresa and just absorbing the news Mary had given him when - shock, horror! The man himself had just entered the shop!

Joseph walked in casually, wandering slowly around the display cabinets, looking through the goods on the shelves. He picked up a local newspaper and went to the counter where a much shaken Brian, was trying to hold it together. He was praying like mad that Mary would not decide this minute was the best one to do one of her entrances again, which amused so many locals.

"Brian, is it now?" Joseph asked placing himself squarely in front of this man, who looked to him like he might wet himself if he went 'Boo!'"

"Yes sir, I mean, Mr Bennett, your Mary's boss aren't you?" steadying his voice as much as he could.

"I am" he replied, nodding "Just checking on how she is doing, two of our kids have come down with her flu. I wondered how she was faring, if she'd seen a doctor and had tablets prescribed. I didn't want to trouble our GP in case it was one of them 24 hour flu's." Joseph lied as the expert he was.

"Ah yes, I'm sorry to tell you but on last inspection she was still in bed, with a sore throat and a high temperature, but we haven't had the Doctor in yet, Mary prefers these bugs to run their course instead of bombarding her body with antibiotics. She is very particular about keeping her body clean and pure as I am sure you will know." Brian commended himself for such a forthright answer, while his knees were knocking like a brass bands big drum.

"Could you do me a favour there Brian?" Joseph asked wanting to see how far this stupid man was going to keep up the charade, and he needed him out the way, out the shop, just for a moment.

"Yes Sir, of course." Brian replied hoping he didn't want to see Mary or some other ruse to go up to the flat.

"Could yer be nipping upstairs and asking Mary if she has the other key to the back door as Theresa has gone and lost hers." He lied, they both knew it was a lie, but Brian saw no escape from having to go upstairs to retrieve the key in question.

"Not at all Mr Bennett, I'll be two ticks, I know where she keeps her keys. If anyone should come in could you kindly tell them, I will be back down in a flash."

"Of course, my son, not a problem. Give my best to your sister and tell her I hope she is well soon." Joseph decided this Brian was an honest man trying to cover up a dishonest deed unsuccessfully. He was as wobbly as the jelly Theresa made every Sunday for tea.

Brian raced up the stairs to the flat, burst into Mary's bedroom, making the girls squeal, both of them dived on them to hush them up. Brian explained quickly under his breath that Joseph was downstairs asking for her set of door keys.

"Does he know Brian?" Mary nervously asked.

"Not sure Mary, he seems genuine, but then he is a practised con-man. I better get straight back down before he sees fit to come and visit you himself." Mary then made the most of coughing her lungs out to add to the myth of her flu symptoms just as Brian re-entered the shop.

"Oh my lord, she sounds fit for the knackers yard there lad." Joseph said with a touch of added humour to his voice.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, she's putting it on for yourself, I guess. I told her you were here." Brian assured him.

"She has company up there though, I was sure I heard some youngster's squealing?" Like a tennis game these unimportant words were uttered to score points and Joseph had just served a straight 'ace'. Score thirty all.

"No, Mr Bennett, I assure you, just her and the TV on full blast as usual. Is there anything else I can get you?" Not a bad counter volley, match point to Brian.

"No lad, just the keys." And with that Joseph left, leaving a much shaken

Brian, regardless of his age, could see that this man was dangerous and now more than ever, he was frightened for Theresa safety. He was desperate to talk to her, but didn't want to give the game away, too much was at risk, and they had the little girls to think of, they must come first as they were the best evidence they could of ever wished for.

Joseph smiled to himself; the lad had played straight into his hands. Whilst he was up in his flat, acting for his life, Joseph had secreted away in the shop some very incriminating photos of three little blonde haired girls, in a variety of sexual poses, typically sort after by the likes of himself.

His next course of action was to anonymously phone the police from the phone box that was a little further up the street, with a tip off about the 'paedophile' and the fact he had three girls in his flat who were not blood related and were being held there against their will. Just as the policewoman on the other end of the phone was trying to get him to come in and give a statement, Joseph declined saying he had already risked too much, his family would be targeted and he had children himself.

"How did you come across this information, Sir?" The policewoman asked trying to get more concrete evidence out of him.

"A bloke in the local pub who had too much to drink was showing some of the lads a photo he said he had found on the floor in that shop. When they passed it to me, I knew I just had to ring in."

With that he put the phone down, returned to his car and waited for the fall-out. It took a little less than half an hour, for one squad car to turn up. Not exactly an emergency in the police's eyes then, Joseph thought. Two officers, one male, one female entered the shop and closed the door.

Forty minutes later, Brian was led out handcuffed and put into a waiting 'paddy wagon' that had not long turned up. Another policeman went in and came out with a box, and another with Brian's computer. Then the female police officer bought out the three girls and Mary. All nicely wrapped up Joseph thought as he watched the scene unfold from the safety of his car. Pity about the three girls and all that money he had now lost, but he knew exactly who would take out his anger and revenge upon.

End of scene eight.

"Oh my god!" Theresa collapsed in her comfy chair in the theatre of dreams and David held her, comforting her best he could within his angelic healing light.

"I did say, Tee, there was nothing you could do. Come on now, let it go, we are nearly there. Let's continue with Theresa's Tale shall we? I think it best now you recall what happened leading up the moment before you were shot. " Theresa still sobbing nodded shakily and a new scene began to play out around them.

* * * * *

## Chapter 12 – Death V Love

### Scene Nine

I was in the kitchen... Joseph had returned to the home, where I was holding a silent vigil. He came into the kitchen feigning concern, asking her if I needed anything.

"How's that head of yours, Theresa, no migraine developing?"

"I'm okay, but so worried for those three innocent's I let slip through my fingers. Did yer find out anything, Joseph?" The knot of fear I had in my stomach helped with my act of concern.

"Actually, I do have a headache and I am so tired, Joseph. Can yer be reheating yer own dinner, as I already fed the only kid left, that fourteen year old, what's her name?" Her name actually kept slipping her mind and she vowed silently to protect her regardless of her ability to remember her name.

"Christina, I think. No, you be getting off to bed and have a lie down, She can do me dinner and the pots while yer resting." Joseph said gently, with as much feigned concern as he could muster. "I have to be slipping out at nine to meet a friend. I'll be gone a few hours, so tuck yourself in and try to get a goodnight sleep."

I thanked him and hurried to my room, trying hard not to break into a run. I dived onto my bed and reached under the mattress for my mobile. There were ten missed calls and as many text messages from Mary. Brain had been arrested as someone had tipped off the Police about the girls they were hiding and they had found some photos that were 'illegal' of the girls in naughty poses and stuff.

Mary texts sounded frightening, if that were possible, and to boot they were holding her as well 'pending more investigation'. Theresa immediately dialled Brian's mobile, but when it was answered by a woman, she quickly killed her call, and then she tried Mary's - but it went straight to voice mail.

My heart sank - Joseph had found out. I was sure of that, as the planet was round; the bastard had been playing them. How much Joseph knew was mine to guess, but I knew I couldn't let him get away with all of this, especially after all the years of patiently gathering evidence. It was too heart breaking and now he had screwed up my only chance of love and happiness with Brian. I found my demon again; I wanted to kill the pervert priest, her godfather stone cold dead –but how?

First, get rid of the girl, I thought and I wrote out a quick letter of explanation and gave it to Christine to hand in, along with the five more recent notebooks and photos she had stashed away. I went over with her what she should say several times, as it was important the police realised they had the wrong man. I made Christina, who was visibly shaken by the current turn of events; repeat it back to me until she got it right.

It was all in the letter and I hoped the police would listen to this visibly distressed young girl with the amount of evidence they now possessed. The police had to come for Joseph. The full horrors of what this de-frocked, excommunicated priest did in this home had been thoroughly documented by one of his victims. When they come to ask me where Joseph is, I was to give the sticky yellow note on which was the address of the meeting, which I guessed he had so carefully planted for me to find.

Theresa pauses the scene...

"I'm nearly there now David, near the end. Have I got to watch myself being shot again? It was Joseph who shot me wasn't it?"

David smiled. A smile that reached into her soul – he was her true soul mate. She now recognised him from many past lifetimes where he had been her father, her brother and a husband to her. It was comforting to know that if she survived this ordeal, he would still be there for her, always - just a prayer away.

"Theresa we do not have to watch your being shot again, and I am afraid I can't reveal who shot you either, or what else happened after, other than that I guided your spirit away, but we do need to know a little more of the circumstances that led you to the docks."

Theresa lowered her shaking head and then raised it, steadied herself and began watching the 'end' of her life play out again, for the second time.

Joseph had left for his meeting, to undoubtedly make up some lie to Serge, I thought, as I went into the kitchen to find something, anything I could defend myself with and stop Joseph. I didn't think I could kill him so decided I should try damaging him a little so he could not go on the run. He then would stand trial in front of all the children he abused, or sold for others to abuse, whose lives he had thrown around like pound coins into a wishing well, a stupid idea as they could still be stolen. I knew this as I had debased myself to that level many times, pinching other people's wishes so I could feed myself.

The police still hadn't shown up and I began to worry that Christina may have just made a run for it rather than trying to explain the going's on in the home. I had to do something to stop him getting away. I got the biggest knife I could find and put it inside my duffle coat; with my mobile in my pocket, and nothing else I left the house that had been my home for thirty odd years, with no intention of returning. I was nearly an old woman and my life had run dry, I literally had no more 'give' in me. Now it was my time to take!"

End scene nine.

"I think we need to go back to Joseph now, David as I don't know what he did next." Theresa stated as calmly as she could.

"No prob's Tee"

### Scene Ten

Joseph is sat in his car, in the car park at the docks, waiting...

I had cancelled Serge earlier telling him there was a lot of police activity at the corner shop, too near the home for comfort, and I did not want to risk moving the merchandise tonight. Serge was not pleased and told me I would have to wait another month for him to return as he had enough 'merchandise' to move as it was, he was doing me a favour after all.

I had seen inside Serge's ship, and how he secreted away in modified containers, his 'cargo' and when suitable stowed away, drugged and quiet, he kept them in the best conditions possible, to be delivered to the underground paedophile, sex trade, mainly in the East, the Arabic nations, and eastern countries like Singapore, Thailand and such places. Not having the three girls was a shame, but I guessed Serge did not want to be linked to this ex-priest with the police on his tail.

It didn't matter to me now, I had left my trail of breadcrumbs and all I had to do was wait for the ungrateful bitch, the reason of my troubled life to turn up. Yes, she was going to meet my secret weapon tonight, say hello to Mr Colt 45!

I was weirdly getting turned on at the thought of taking her out or down, or whatever the slang was for shooting her until she was dead. A sickening thought had crossed my mind, should I taste her one more time? Errgh! No! I decided. She was much too old, wrinkly and chubby in all the wrong places, she did nothing for me, but the little 'sick' voice who spoke to me often and fuelled my so called 'unnatural urge' was whispering again.

"You've never fucked a dead bitch!" What a turn on, I could take my time fucking her, with no struggling or screaming to contend with. It would be my one finger up to the Mc'Ginty clan that I shot then fucked their illegitimate bastard-fucking bitch of a daughter. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. If caught I would certainly make the headlines and my tale of sick vengeance should make good reading for a month or two.

I'm not stupid, I know there is no going back to the home - it was over. No doubt the police will turn up there to check on the goings on that 'tweedle-dee' and 'tweedle-dum' would have told the police and the three lisle of dogsass's, no doubt they would have a lot to say once they were weaned off the drugs. Either way I am screwed. My plan is to take my bastard goddaughter, Theresa's life. Why should she live when my world was in ruin's because of her. I'm going to shoot her dead, fuck her corpse and buy passage on Serge's ship, which was still docked, waiting for me. Yes, that a plan.

Theresa was supposed to arrive at the docks, to this car park as I had stated in my note as it was arranged with Serge. She must of realised she was meant to find the yellow sticky note as it isn't like me to be that careless. It was five minutes past eleven; the agreed time was eleven, had she missed the note? No, was the easy answer as I heard Theresa's familiar Irish lilt coming out of the darkness.

"Joseph?" Theresa walked hesitantly out of the shadows.

"Hello, Theresa, so good of you to join me, I see you got the invitation..." I had got out the car and was walking towards her slowly to show I meant business. Theresa pulled out a large knife from out her duffle coat. "Oh my, Theresa, what a big knife you have!" I said laughing, rubbing in salt into the already open wound that was her heart. "Now just what do yer think yer going to do with that, my child?"

"I am not your fucking child, and if you come any nearer I'll show you, you bastard child molester!" She screamed at me, waving the knife around, chopping great big lumps out of the space between us. It was so funny seeing this old woman try to intimidate me - I laughed so loud as to inform the devil himself!

"You were always good for a laugh, I'll give you that Theresa, your total lack of understanding and education, your gullibility, your naive innocence, all mudded by me so I could have my revenge on that bloody family of yours, your real Mother, my Brother and your Father!"

I could see her fear is spiralling around her like a python ready to squeeze her to death. She was stood frozen, in shock. It was the first time that I had ever mentioned her mother and father.

"My parents?" She hesitated in her step unconsciously, lowering the knife trying to take in and digest the words I had just said. In the minute while she was trying to take in the news that she actually had 'parent's', the sound of the blues and two's started to wail in the distance.

"Shit, you bitch called the pigs have yer? Well it won't do you any good because I am going to introduce you to my friend, Mr Colt 45, and then I'm going to fuck your dead body till it bleeds out!" I screamed at her.

Theresa stops the scene.

"It was a trap! David... It had to be, I am an orphan! Both my parents' are dead and 'he' had adopted me as his 'Godchild.' I had never understood why he had selected me from so many, and had never asked; I just accepted that this normal. All my life, no one had ever mentioned any parents, and now here in this one terrible minute, everything changed as my nemesis waved this snippet of information like a red flag to a bull."

"Come on Theresa calm down..."

"I can't David it's still so real, He was red faced and manic, just like all those years ago when he abused me. His 'nightmare' face bought all those feelings I had buried deep within my psyche. I felt myself moving towards him, to damage him as much as I could when it struck me I didn't know what a 'Mr Colt 45' was? How ignorant and stupid am I!"

"You're doing really great Tee, nearly there..."

Back to Joseph...

She had no idea and her ignorance and hesitation were her downfall as I raised my hand from behind my back, showing her the gun, and squeezed the trigger. A loud snap issued from its barrel followed by a wisp of smoke into the cold night air. I don't think she fully realised, or comprehended what had happened until the bullet hit her in the head and she fell to the wet, cold car park surface. I began to rush forward to finish her off, make sure she was dead when I heard a second loud snap...

End scene ten.

## Epilogue.

"I have parents? Then why was I abandoned like an unwanted puppy at the side of the road?" Theresa queried her guardian angel.

"These are the mysteries' you have yet to solve, Tee." They both took a moments silence to let this new revelation sink in.

"Back to the beginning David?" Theresa said dejectedly, stating the obvious.

"Yes the end of your life, I mean how it was then and now the beginning of your new life." David said softly.

"He shot me - didn't he David? I didn't know he had a gun, I didn't know what it was, how stupid of me" David gave her another one of them cotton candy hugs into which she wanted to melt away, with no cares or worries, or go back into that body of hers which was probably in so much pain still.

"Take another look at you self, down there Theresa. There is one more thing I have to tell you which you didn't see and it should make your recovery time all that more pleasing."

"What David, don't tease me!"

"Take a look first." He said guiding her head in the direction of a new vista opening before them. It was a hospital, she thought, and yes, there she was asleep, deep in her coma. A pretty young nurse was hovering around her, making her comfortable, doing the usual nurse stuff, and there waiting patiently at the back of the room, was Brain.

"Brian!" Theresa shouted forgetting she could not be heard. "Come on David put me out of my misery, what do you need to tell me?"

"Okay, are you ready for this?" he said teasing her.

"Oh yes already - you tease!" David got serious and the mood around them changed, the colour losing its brightness and warmth.

"Okay now, you are probably wondering what happen to Joseph. Yes?" Theresa nodded, she hadn't thought to look and see what happened to him.

"Well, he was shot too, and about the same time. As you got his bullet, to the brain, he got his, to the heart and he was killed outright." Theresa took a moment to let this news soak in. He'd got away with it! The vile pervert priest didn't get to face his abusers or stand trial.

Theresa groaned, "It's not fair, he didn't get punished!"

David held her close and the warmth returned along with the energetic colours and together they stood and watched the scene being played out before them. Brian was now at Theresa's bedside, holding her hand, telling her of his day and that of Mary, who would be along as soon as she had the kids to bed. Mary had kids?

It slowly sank in, on closer inspection as she could see grey hairs in Brian usual brown mess, it had thinned out some too, and he was thinner and older, that was it?

"David how long have I been in a coma?"

David squeezed her hand, "There's no easy way to say this, Tee. You have been in a coma just over ten years. It is 2009 down there and you are in what they call a 'sleeping coma'. Your body has healed, you do not need life support and your brain is working, you just haven't woke up yet."

"David, I'm scared - do I have to go back?" As much as she wanted to hold Brian again, ten years had passed for them, and for her it felt like ten minutes. Would he want her still? Especially in that aged body of hers. No doubt there would be healing to do still, and physical disability from being in bed for ten years. Ten years!

Theresa was struggling to absorb this new information and she was scrutinising her body. It looked different from her last 'visit', her long auburn hair had gone replaced with a short bob with tinges of red but mostly white hairs, not smoky grey like Brian's. Her once plumpish figure was now thin and scrawny; it was going to need a lot of tender loving care to get her back to full strength.

"Theresa, even now you have free will, I can only guide you, but look at that man, look at Brian. He has sat with you every day since the shooting and he has never given up on you. How can you abandon him now? Cast him away because you are scared?"

"Well put like that, I suppose I must go back and finish up this mystery. Joseph did me one favour before he shot me, he told me I have living parents and now I need to find them. I also would like to know who finished off Joseph for me, and what happened to the three girls, and all those I betrayed in my ignorance. Did we actually make a difference?"

"Yes, Tee, your evidence was crucial in the apprehension of Joseph's associates and Brian and Mary were cleared of their involvement. All these are all worthwhile reasons to return..." David hesitated.

"I feel a 'but' coming on" Theresa said, so like David to keep her in 'suspenders', as they would say when they were kids.

"You're missing something." He stated. "Look again."

Theresa strained her ethereal eyes over the scene below one more time, and then it hit her like a bolt of blue lightening. She saw the unconditional love in Brian's eyes, the softness of his gaze and warmth to his tenor voice she used to find so hypnotic. Yes, he was older, so was she, but they still had time to love and live together.

"Now you understand, Theresa, there is only love, total unconditional from every atom in your body - love. It is the lesson man strives for everyday not realising it is there, right before them, in abundance. If only they would look harder, get past the 'must have' greed that dominates this world now. They need to slow down, smell the roses, feel the wind in their hair, the earth under their feet, and just 'be' in the now. Can you take this message back with you Theresa?"

Theresa smiled and hugged her friend. "David, I will do my best, I will tell of everything I have experienced so others can learn from me. I am ready now, old friend, to go back and do some of that living and loving. But will I remember any of this?"

David shrugged his shoulders, "I can't be sure on that Tee, it really depends on you, it's your free will either to remember or to forget, which ever your soul decides, and you will instinctively follow its lead. I cannot tell you more than that, other than I am only a prayer away, and I will always answer your call, I love you Theresa..."

Theresa was a whirl with all these mixed emotions as she 'fell' back into her body, her eyes starting to open, her body moving slowly as she croaked out a whisper, "David, David, don't leave me...."

* * * * *

Other books by this Author

Time Tells Tales

A Novel In Five Tales

Set in Ireland and England in the early 1900's, covering a century, Time Tells Tales is a Novel in five parts or 'Tales'. They explore the history of three families; their interconnected lives are intricately woven together by love, birth, death, and marriage. These lives are spiced up by religion, revenge, scandal, abuse, heartache and spiritual intervention.

The five Tales are told from different perspectives by the characters that drive this novel along to the surprising conclusion, spreading across time, space and dimensions, hence the title - Time Tells Tales.

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Alfred's Tale

Dead in a Ditch

Alfred of indeterminable age is lying at the bottom of an icy cold deep muddy ditch, where he is hidden by brambles and branches. He has been knocked into this desperate place by a hit and run driver on a lonely, unlit lane on the Staffordshire moorlands. He was drunk as a skunk and it was pitch black. He didn't blame the driver for not stopping, why would they? He was one of life's destitute wanderer's, better for all if he was not found.

He was sure that broken bones aside, this was going to be his last resting place. As this realisation hits home Alfred begins to review, play out the high and lows of his mostly misspent life, whilst his body succumbs to hypothermia, and finally death.

What will he reveal? Will he be found? These and many more questions will be answered in this first novel by this new author, Stephanie Fletcher.

For sure, Time certainly has some Tales to Tell.

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Catherine's Tale

Love, Loss, Lust, and Lies

This is the sequel to Tale One - Alfred's Tale, and tells the story from the perspective of Catherine, the love of Alfred's troubled life. Here we meet this young girl, Catherine, on the verge of womanhood, who has to deal with the unexpected death of her Mother under suspicious circumstances, and the fallout of her Father's grief and the interference of the Catholic Church.

Catherine is brought up a devout Roman Catholic living in a town called Puncheston, County of Kildare in Ireland, in the 1930's. Just as Catherine seems to be coming to terms with her loss, she suffers an unexpected attack on her person, raped by a trusted member of the family, a cousin older than her twelve years who makes this abhorrent, botched declaration of his love for her, resulting in uproar and more emotional outbursts.

We can live every moment with Catherine as we read from the pages of her Diary. She aspires to become a writer like Jane Austin, her heroine. We have access to her most private thoughts, written as she struggles to come to terms with all the devastating trials and tribulations that beset her. She describes her first love, a secret and forbidden, eventually giving into lust with Alfred, the apprentice butcher, who comes from a family of some disrepute. We continue with her as the consequences of their actions drive them far apart - forever.

What are these consequences? Will Catherine ever recover from the highs and lows of this emotional roller coaster? Will she recover from the loss, the lust, the love, and the lies? These and many more questions will be answered in this first novel by this new author, Stephanie Fletcher.

For sure, Time certainly has some Tales to Tell.

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Theresa's Tale

Forbidden Love

Theresa's Tale is the third tale of this novel and tells of forbidden love. She is the illegitimate daughter of Catherine and Alfred, raised by catholic nuns in an orphanage in County Kerry where she was born, cruelly taken from her mother before she had chance to even glimpse her bastard child.

Theresa is a troubled child who is bullied and beaten by the Nuns who see her as a child that is no good, scarred and useless. The local priest who is attached to the church and the orphanage plays a big part in keeping this child from knowing her heritage and her parents as it is only him, Joseph Bennett, who has all the answers to all the secrets and lies.

We follow Theresa as she is moved from home to home coping with abuse, lack of love or any true affection and generally having miserable existence. Theresa runs away to England, to London, looking for her best friend from her last 'home' David, and she is dragged into the world of prostitution and drugs, her only way to survive on the streets.

A familiar face, her childhood abuser, rescues her! Theresa is pulled into another world of paedophilia and child slavery. She slowly plans to exact her revenge on the devil incarnate while helping as many of the kids that he rescues in the name of God, to escape their horrible fate. Theresa does this with the help of Brian and Mary, a brother and sister who befriend her. It is with Brian she has her first glimpse of what true love could be, but she worries that Brian will not be able to love her, an abused physiologically damaged middle-aged woman with no experience of a real loving relationship.

In November 1999, just before the millennium, Theresa's plans come to a violent conclusion but with an unexpected twist. This Tale presents us with many more questions and few answers to the ever more complicated lives of these characters in Time Tells Tales.

Will Theresa ever find out who her real parents are? Why was she left in the hands of those cruel nuns? What is true love and why would anyone want to love her? Will Theresa ever escape the hands of her abuser and save her mortal soul? Will Brian get passed her damaged persona and love her truly? Will she live to find answers to these questions? These and many more questions will be answered in this first novel by this new author, Stephanie Fletcher. For sure, Time certainly has some Tales to Tell.

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Jim's Tale

Out of the Mouth of Babe's

Set in 1994 in England, this Tale is about Jim Middleton and his wife Serena, nee Rooney, and younger sister to Alfred. Serena and Jim have one child, Paul, born in 1958, who meets June Bennett, legitimate daughter of Catherine Bennett, whilst at university and they marry in 1982.

They have a gifted child, Angela, born 1989, Jim's only grandchild who Serena got to hold, cruelly for a brief moment before her passing. Serena dies prematurely from bowel cancer at the age of 58. Jim comes to terms with his wife's sudden death by helping to care for five year old Angela whilst June is pregnant with their second child as it is a difficult pregnancy.

Angela opens her Granddads eyes to possibilities he had never given much credence to, his scepticism about all things supernatural and spiritual. But his lack of belief or faith in an everlasting life after death is challenged by events and Angela helps him to cope with his grief, changing his whole outlook on life and death.

This Tale introduces a new family to this saga and opens us to new concepts, pushing the boundary of belief systems, sharing the struggle of a five year old girl and the trials and tribulations she has had to face in her short life.

Will people begin to believe in her gift? Will she grow up bullied, tormented and hide her gift, never to help those who seek her help? These and many more questions will be answered in this first novel by this new author, Stephanie Fletcher.

For sure, Time certainly has some Tales to Tell.

* * * * *

Angela's Tale

A Gift For All.

This is the final Tale, set in 2008, in both England and Ireland. This Tale is about Angela's special gift, and how she learns to use it. How it helps to brings to a conclusion to all the secrets, scandals and lies which intricately wove the lives of these three family histories together.

Angela finally un-wraps the mystery that she had begun with her Granddad Jim, who sadly passed away, but Angela with her special insight and empathy made his passing memorable and peaceful as he returns to the arms of his loving wife.

Alfred's letter and journal's came too late for Serena and Jim but with Angela's gift, she helps her family in ways no-one else can and they set out to solve the mystery of Catherine and Alfred's forbidden love and hopefully to find the lost child they never got to see.

As Angela is now a fully qualified a nurse as she feels her gift and her intuition is best used in the healing profession. Her most recent patient is a middle aged woman who was involved in a shooting and she was hit by a bullet which lodged near her temple in her brain. The woman had undergone surgery which was successful, but she was left in a coma for over ten years.

Angela gets messages and visions from her Grandparents, Jim and Serena, who help her find Catherine, her mother's mother who she has never spoken about and finally revels to her family her past family life in Ireland. The evidence contained in Alfred's journals and Catherine's diary highlight the possibility that this woman in a coma might be related. Will they piece together who this woman is? Will she ever gain consciousness? Will Brian stand by her? Will Catherine survive the ravages of old age to finally hold her long lost daughter?

These and many more questions will be answered in this first novel by this new author, Stephanie Fletcher. This is the final tale of a family reunited on both sides of the veil. Time has truly told a Tale.

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Time Tells Tales - The Lost Children

Sequel Book to Time Tells Tales

The Rooney Lads

The Voyage To Hell And Outback

Taken away at a young age and put into care in an Irish foster home, ran by the Catholic Church, these three brother's experience the kind of adventure children should not have to face.

Well meaning people govern their lives as it is seen to be the right thing to do. Instead they are ripped apart and scattered over the globe by circumstances that were then, beyond their control. Will these lads ever reunite? Will their shared history reveal their heritage? Who were their parents? Do they have other family back in Ireland? So many questions and the boy's experiences make this novel trip over your heart and scream for a happy outcome, but as we all know fate likes nothing more than to throw a curve ball or two. These and many more questions will be answered in this second novel by this new author, Stephanie Fletcher. For sure, Time certainly has some Tales to Tell.

* * * * *

Short Stories

Season's Anthology

These four short stories reveal to us the four stages of 'LOVE' throughout a year in the lives of four very different couples and their experience of love at a certain stage in life.

'Spring' tells us of a first love, of puppy love, of a crush, and the ending of such love, as a person grows with experience and they learn more about their relationships. (Not available yet.)

'Summer' is about a chance meeting which maybe the beginning of true adult love, or unconditional love. It is a story of hope, of not giving up on love, that it may, at any time, in any situation, leap out and touch us on the shoulder.

'Autumn' reveals to us what happens when things start to go wrong, when love leaves and divorce seems inevitable or is it? (Not available yet.)

Finally, 'Winter' takes us to a place that all couples fear - being the one left alive and alone, when their partner passes away. It is a sad but enlightening story which shows that true love never dies.

* * * * *

Summer

Sally is twenty-four and disillusioned with her life and the daily grind on a road to nowhere with its many pitfalls. A chance meeting on a day that started out as grey as the rest, changes her life forever. Who does she meet? Can she really escape her tower block, warehouse city existence? Is it the summer sun that illuminates a different path to her soul? Can one day really make a difference?

* * * * *

Winter

Betty woke up and turned to the empty side of the bed she had shared with Percy for the last twenty-seven years of marriage. There was still an indent in the mattress where he should have been laying alongside her, but it was cold and empty. She reached for his pillow and snuggled into it, breathing in his smell, she couldn't bear to wash the pillowslip as yet.

It had always been her fear, her nightmare that Percy would die in bed beside her, but instead he died three days after his seventieth birthday - in his beloved potting shed, his other home, his allotment. A quick final blast from his heart, bang! And over and out - Percy was no more.

'Winter' takes us to a place that all couples fear - being the one left alive and alone, when their partner passes away. It is a sad but enlightening story which shows that true love never dies.

* * * * *

Where There is Light, There is Understanding.

Holly is struggling to keep her life together, juggling with grief and a new sixteen-day-old baby. Will history repeat itself? Can she cope or will she opt out like her own mother? This is a short story with a big lesson for those who are open enough to understand.

* * * * *

My Poetry Collection

Family and Pets

Book One

This is book one in a series of three different collections of poetry, all on different topics. Book one poems is about family, children, and pets. All are easy to read and well written. I hope you enjoy them.

* * * * *

Inspirational Poetry

Book Two

This is an Inspirational collection of Poems that I have written over the years, during good times and bad. I found that the writing of them helped to keep me sane and hopeful.

There are two with the same title; 'Love begins with me', as they are poems entered to an Invitational competition with that theme.

In 2010, I came first, and in 2012 I had an honourable mention.

A few of the poems have been experimental in writing style, and the judgement of how successful I have been will lie with you, the reader- so enjoy!

* * * * *

This and That

Book Three

A collection of poems written over the years which are varied in theme and style, from a trip up a Volcano to the depths of Insomnia, there is something for everyone. I hope you enjoy my journey in rhyme.

* * * * *

About The Author.

Stephanie Fletcher.

Biography

I am a Mother and best friend to three girls. I truly love my life and every person who has ever touched it with unconditional love, and I am grateful for all their support in my endeavours. I am now a Grandmother and I am sure inspiration will come for some children's stories!

I have a website for publishing my writing and poetry. The web link is http://www.stephanie-fletcher.co.uk

I started writing seriously after having a traumatic event in my life resulting in a nervous breakdown to boot. My physical and mental health suffered greatly and now several years later, hand on heart, I can honestly say I am not the self-driven OCD perfectionist I was before.

I had a spiritual enlightenment, counselling, and time, lots of time on my hands. I could have quit, and sank deeper into depression but I didn't. I am lucky enough to have three wonderful caring and considerate daughters who witnessed my decent into hell and back, and a family who never left my side. I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and hit life head on again like the Taurean bull I am.

I have always written a journal of sorts, spasmodically, and the days of staring into thin air became times of inspiration. At first I was scared to show others my work. The last thing I needed was criticism that cuts you to the soul. I needn't have worried, only but a few people gave me critique that knocked my confidence and I began to grow as a writer.

I am the first to admit I am not very well educated, only secondary school but I returned to college at forty, did a creative writing course and gained a certificate in counselling skills. I read a lot, anything and everything and I take notes everywhere, for use later in my work. I collect idioms and sayings, inspirational quotes etc and they all help. A voice recorder is handy for those nighttime ideas and I also read my work out loud, recording them and then playing back, as it is easier to see where something doesn't work. I have a programme called 'dragon speak' which types up my recordings and saves a lot of frustrating keyboard time, which does my arthritis no good! I like to do my original work long hand so I have a lot of A5 notebooks needing attention.

Writing is never dull, or a job, I enjoy every day I spend writing and often surprise myself at what comes out. I am now attempting my first Novel, called 'Time Tells Tales', a synopsis is on my website and it is now finished! It is available as an e-book on Smashwords and Amazon or buy it from my bookshop on my website! I have three collections of poetry and two short, novella length stories available as well, one of which is free, so go help your self to a copy!

Connect With Me Online:

Email: stephanie-fletcher@sky.com

Website: http://stephanie-fletcher.co.uk

Twitter: http://twitter.com/safletcher59

Facebook: http://facebook.com/angelstar59

Smashwords: http://smashwords.com/profile/view/angelstar59

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/978767.Stephanie_Fletcher

LinkedIn:  http://uk.linkedin.com/pub/stephanie-fletcher/4b/937/a10/

