 
I Hate To Love You Anee Berry

Chapter One

After burying that selfish old bitch of a mother, all I wanted - was a fix. Not standing on Union Street shivering, waiting to turn a trick. Kez watched from across the road, waiting for his cut of my money. I prayed for a saviour. It wasn't long until I felt the warm breath of a cars exhaust on my unshaven leg. Then I heard the predictable whir of its electric window opening. I leaned inside.

'You looking for business?'

'Hop in.' Boomed a deep black voice, with Eminem rapping behind.

All I had to do was give him head in the car.

**£50** Score!

The next day, he was back, and the next and the next. Till eventually I took him back to the squat and he became part of the scene. Sex with him was grim, but it paid the dealer. Back then they called me Roxy and I stooped at around five foot two. I had a sprinkling of orangey green straggling hair. Why - he kept coming back for me I do not know. There was no body fat on my bones, |I was bruised from head to toe, my clothes were hanging off me in shreds and I don't think I'd had a bath for months. Yet, 6.15pm every evening, his BM would straggle along the kerb, over and over, he'd patrol like an old black crow looking for road kill. . But he liked me, he said. Liked talking to me after he had finished work, liked my attentions.

He must have been deluded. I didn't listen, I just had other things in my mouth whilst he rattled on and on. One night I nearly choked, he asked me out to dinner!

I spat him out and stood up tall to face him, man to man.

'I'm not your girlfriend - you idiot. This is my job.'

Do you know what he replied. 'I know but I like you.'

So that was that. He liked me. He paid me £50 a day, that kept me in gear I was happy. It wasn't long before I started to look forward to 6.15pm. Kez on the other hand was the opposite. He'd pimp me from over the road, watching - waiting, sussing out the deal. I was his girl and I owed him.

After a couple of weeks he started asking questions.

'Who's that guy in the BM? Are you WITH IM? Does 'e speak English?' The questions were meant to incite fear but I didn't give a shit. But that wasn't enough for Kez, he wanted a bigger cut, but I didn't have the heart to charge Jerro more. I do have some values.

I was raking in £300 a week off him. And if I was with him I had a steady stream of crack on a plate. That meant I didn't have to rob clients anymore.

The first time I noticed that he was a bit weird was after weeks of doing him in the car, he took me to his hotel. As we walked around the revolving doors he put his bloody arm around me and kind of looked like a big bear, all puffed up and all. I realised then that he just didn't understand!

As we rode the elevator I began to feel a bit frightened. I don't know why there was nothing different about him, but when I went into the suite that his office paid for and saw the beautiful black ball gown and black stilleto's on the bed, I could have passed out with shock.

'This isn't Pretty fucking Woman Jerro!'

'I bought this for you to wear for me.' He sounded strong and doting. I looked into his eyes they echoed a warmth to me. 'Dress for me?'

He ran me a bath. I climbed in. As I laid there. I looked at my battered body and felt ashamed, right down to my core. I was coming down off my last fix and my body was gurning for its next. But something inside me felt relaxed. Dismissing the mirror, I padded into the bedroom drying my feet as I went. Jerro patted me on the shoulder, then went into the en-suite. I was just thinking what is a man like him, doing with a fucking hooker like me, he could get any woman he wanted.

It was obvious he was doing quite well for himself if his company paid for these digs.

But then I heard the taps running in the bathroom. I peered around the corner, he didn't see me. He was refreshing the water I had bathed in and was lying in my dirt!

But the dress was calling me. I'd never played dress up. I felt like I was five years old. Then as the dress rolled over my flat chest and over my hips and thighs, I began to feel like Julia Roberts. I wanted to look in the mirror and see if I had sparkly eyes too, but something stopped me.

I kicked the stilleto's over to the bed, one by one I put them on. As I wobbled on the pins, I decided that was the way I wanted to look, for the rest of my life.

When Jerro came out of the bathroom, naked, he was aghast. He walked over to me, hardening as he strode. He leaned it to kiss me on the lips. I turned my cheek to him again, he knew I didn't kiss. He backed away and took my full image into his sights.

'Have you seen yourself Roxy?'

'I look fucking awful - I do.'

'Look.' He took my hand and pulled me towards the dressing table mirror. I didn't look.

'Look at my bruises, look at my hair, I haven't even got any tits to hold up this fucking dress.'

'Roxy, you are beautiful.'

That was enough. I wanted out of there. I sunk to my knees, gave him his £50 worth and took off like lightning.

But you guessed it. Guess what happened at 6.15pm the next night.

This time, he'd bought me a coat. Then boots, then jumpers, you name it.

Eventually, by the time I had to phone him to rescue me from the cells, I had a whole bloody wardrobe.

*

The police had been sweeping the Union Street area for months, whilst I'd been getting regular money from Jerro for his treats, I hadn't been out much on the streets. But with regular money, my habit just got bigger. I needed more gear. Kez was working me a treat, giving me more gear so I needed more money, so he got a bigger cut. I was back out there, lunchtimes as well as tea-times. There was no need to even mention it to Jerro, after all it was my business. But that day I got lifted and banged up in the cells, I had no choice.

Kez would have battered me for leaning into an unmarked police car and giving everyone else away, so I phoned Jerro to rescue me instead. He looked grey and was beside himself with worry when he picked me up.

I was terrified too. Not so much terrified of Kez but terrified that I'd have to find a new dealer. As I suspected Kez was waiting across the road from the station. Jerro glared at Kez but I don't think he knew who he was . All that I had in my head was that - I needed a fix, not a sermon on the past life being going forever, and that he would redeem me of all my sins!

I did the maths, with Kez I had to work on the streets, with Jerro, I had to do the odd blow job. Luxuriating on the king size bed in his hotel I realised I had landed in drug dependency heaven. Then a black cloud came over me, I was going to have to move away from the girls on the streets. I rose to sitting, Jerro came over with a large glass of whisky in his hand and told me to drink it.

Then I heard him on the phone.

'Bring an extra large breakfast up to my room,' he ordered, 'as soon as possible.'

I hadn't slept for what seemed like days, I was clucking, my body was rattling from head to toe. The whisky had took the edge off it, but all I needed was a fix. He poured me another glass. I stood in front of him tearing strips out of my skin with my dirty nails. He looked at me with love in his eyes. My hair was a mass of dry knots, I'd slept in my clothes, I was dirty and even I - could smell myself.

Jerro had run me a bath and took my clothes off to be cleaned. With him out of the way I took my first glimpse in the mirror. My teeth were piano'd, my face was long and drawn, I looked like a grey skeleton that breathed. I put my hand in front of my mouth and blew so I could smell my own breath. It smelt of whisky and phlegm. I looked in the mirror again. I was the image of my dead selfish mother. My black framed bulging eyes glared back at me. Look at the fucking state of you! they judged.

The jasmine scented bath oils overpowered the room, I sunk into the water and held my breath. I did not want to come up for air ever again. But useless as I am, I was saved by the one and only.

'Roxy what are you doing to yourself?' He was nearly in tears.

'Drowning. What the heck do you think I'm doing!' I was smiling a little but he wasn't.

'Don't do that ever again.' He raged at me.

I was shocked.

'Get me another drink.' I sparked at him.

'You've had enough.'

I jumped to my feet and told him in no uncertain terms that I was leaving.

'Oh no you're not - lady.'

He held out his hand containing two blue pills. I snatched them from him, swallowing them whole.

'I need more than that to stay.'

'Don't worry. I've got more.'

As I went to dry myself off and the benzo's started to kick in my craving started to settle. Ok, the gripping pains in my stomach and chest were calling me, but I was in a place where I knew I was ok, to stay just for a little while longer. I wasn't stupid.

I'd hid my phone from him, so whilst he was lying in my bath water. I phoned a friend and begged her to score for me. I then arranged to meet her under the bus stop by the hotel,

'Please A.S.A.P.' I begged. I believed I could easily escape him.

As I laid under the bed clothes I thought, I'm going to like you. I had to be grateful for something, I could do whatever I wanted with him and he never wanted anything from me, well apart from the obvious!

He bought me drugs when I needed them and pulled me off the streets. He was kind and although I knew he was a wanker, because all men who go with prostitutes are wankers, he was quite an attractive wanker. In those days he used to work out, go to the gym, eat healthily, spend time chatting on Skype to his son. He must have had something about him to do that. He didn't beat me, he was a nice guy.

*

Before meeting him, I'd had two children of my own, two boys, but the bastards at Social Services took them off me and both of them; since, had been adopted. I hadn't seen Christopher since he was five years old, that was nearly seven years ago and they took baby Leon off me, as soon as he was born. The adopted parents of Christopher had promised to send Social Services a photograph of him every Christmas, but it never seemed to happen. The adoptive parents of Leon swore they never would.

Because Leon was blue when he was born and had to go into special care because he needed to go through a heroin detox. So I'd had it pretty bad!

It broke my heart to lose my kids. Ok, I was using drugs, who isn't nowadays, but I was a good mother. Christopher was always dressed nice and bathed every day. He had friends to play with. I played with him. We spent hours playing cars and trains. I would sing him songs, tell him stories. He was just about talking properly then they took him away.

Oh, he screamed. Every curtain in every house twitched. I heard him still screaming through the closed windows of the car as the Social Services bastards drove off with him. I sometimes see him now in my mind's eye, trying to escape from of the rear window of their car. His mouth wide and the woman's arm pulling him backwards, behind the seatbelt. All he wanted was his Mummy!

Two police officers held onto me. I wasn't fighting no-one that day. I had no strength. Then when they did it again and took Leon, I just got fucked out of my head on gear. More gear and more gear. I didn't care what I did to get gear.

I just needed gear. Gear was my life, I would live for gear. I would inject, gouche out, come to, need gear, scrat around, beg, steal, work, borrow, anything, to score. Every second of every day was consumed by the obsession and compulsion to use heroin, and sublimate life again. Life was physically and emotionally, too painful to live in. My memories haunted me and made me want to use even more. I needed to use to hide from my pain.

I'd tell my story over and over to the girls who I worked with. They would listen and try to console me. They knew what it was like, all too well. Most of them had had their kids taken away, too.

*

So, 'Jerro the Baptist' was rescuing me in his hotel suite. He'd come up trumps with the benzo's, there was an unending supply of whisky and from nowhere he had scored some skunk. I hated smoking weed, but it was better than nothing. He rolled me a joint to take the edge off my cravings for gear. As if dope would do the job, I thought. But hey ho, beggars can't be choosers. It did show that this guy cared.

'Roxy, how are you feeling now?' He asked as I laid in his bed.

'Samantha, my name is Samantha.'

'Oh. Alright.'

He held out the joint. 'Take a toke on this Samantha.'

Just then there was a knock on the door, it was room service with the breakfast trolley. Whilst he was busy at the door, I went over to the window. I could see Jenny, loitering under the bus shelter across the road. I waved at her. She waved back. I tried to shoo her away with my hand, but I don't think she understood. I closed the curtains and turned my back on her.

My taste buds pulsed. My body screamed cravings; I needed something, anything to soothe me. On the outside, I felt cleaner, much cleaner than I'd felt in years. But on the inside every part of my body was screaming for heroin. My belly was aching, cramping. My head screaming for gear. Under the duvet I was covered in a thick layer of sweat. I needed fucking gear not skunk. Yet, the skunk tasted good. Jerro asked me to eat with him. I shook my head with disgust.

'Can I have some more pills. Please?'

'Later. Eat.'

To earn three more pills, I had to eat a full rasher of bacon. It must have taken me hours, and a nanosecond to wolf down the pills. Instantly my body began to relax. The churning madness in my mind calmed and the obsession to score was dissipated for a while. The skunk had a heavy pungent smell and made me feel sick.

I must have passed out soon after that because when I came to, I was ravenous. I picked and picked at the left over toast and managed to eat it without him nagging me. I remember that meal as my first breakfast in years. The next few hours and days were spent in a confused, extremely stoned, aching, sweaty hotel room. Jerro told the staff that he had the flu, and did not want to be disturbed. The staff were not allowed to enter the room.

'Knock the door with the trays and we will collect them,' he'd said.

The outside windows were wide open to ventilate the cannabis fumes and he laid towels under the door to stop the stench from going up the hallway. After four or five days, I can't remember, the cravings for gear had dissipated, also the diarrhoea had calmed. I started to look half human in the mirror and a miracle happened, I had a spot of blood in my knickers. I'd never really had much of periods, like the other girls, mind you. I didn't have a lot of anything, boobs, teeth, arse or even hips. But somehow I'd managed to have two babies when I'd been using. Jerro told me that my body was returning to a form of health. He loved it, watching me eat everything and anything that was put in front of me. I remember one special moment.

Jerro had come out of the bathroom naked, walking around the room as if he was a male stripper, strutting his stuff. I was laid out on the bed, thinking, 'what the heck are you doing? He must have read my mind. He began singing in a soft low voice, like Barry White. 'I'm going to come over there my baby, and make sweet, sweet love to you!'

'Oh!' I smiled through my stoned bleary eyes.

He came up to the double bed, put one foot on the mattress and twirled his penis, like a helicopter. He slowly probed the air, and thrust his hips. God knows what he thought that would do for me. But anyhow, I saw something hanging from his backside. I leaned up to take a closer look. There was a stream of toilet paper hanging off his arse, like a flipping tail.

Curling my legs up, I ached with laughter. My knees were on my chest, it was so funny. Jerro wasn't too pleased. But I laughed and listened to the laugh and the noise that came from me. It was weird, I hardly recognised myself. It was the first time I had laughed in years. Jerro joined in laughing (once his ego had subsided).

'Oh Samantha, I've never seen you laugh!'

Neither have I, not for one hell of a long time, I thought.

The following day, I remember looking in the mirror and noticing how pink my skin was becoming. The creams I'd been rubbing in had made my skin softer and not so gaunt. I think I'd put on a few pounds and I definitely looked 100% better than the first time I'd seen myself in that awful bathroom mirror. I think I'd been held hostage in the room for about a week when Jerro told me that we were moving to Stockport. He felt it was a safe distance for me to be away from the bright lights of Manchester and all my 'cronies.' But close enough for him to commute to work. At this stage in my recovery I was very vulnerable so he crossed his fingers and signed the chitty at reception. We moved into a third floor, tiny one-bedroomed flat.

This was a hard time for me, I knew I couldn't go out because if I did, I would relapse and score. I still needed the escape of oblivion. I didn't want to score. Ok, to be honest, I did want to score, but I wanted to stay this new person too. I'd had my hair cut and coloured back to its original auburn colour and with the newfound colour in my cheeks, make-up was not top priority every day. I didn't have to hide spots, scars or black eyes anymore. I liked what I saw in the mirror. The days were long and boring. There is only so much Jeremy Kyle, Doctors, Relocation, Relocation, you can watch without the past coming back to haunt you.

The long minutes were reminders that I missed Christopher and Leon. My mind was like a film rewinding and replaying memories. I ached to know what they looked like, to know what they were doing? Or to know if they were even happy. If they missed me? Or even were they together? Those bastard social workers won't tell me anything.

'Samantha you've been promised a photo at Christmas. Just wait. You agreed to that,' was all they would say.

Some hours were easier than others. The aching in my gut intensified and I pacified myself with endless joints, then the whole cycle would start again. After three weeks on benzos and skunk, I decided to quit the skunk as the paranoia I was going through every day drove me insane. I wanted to be dead and away from the voices in my head. I wasn't that stupid, I knew I'd done wrong by using heroin and working on the streets but I wasn't an evil woman, ugly bitch or vile creature from scum island, like the voices from my subconscious told me, over and over.

For the first time in my life, I was six weeks clean. Jerro was becoming confident around me and told me that he was quite proud of my progress. If I went out during the day and scored, not only would it kill me - It would probably kill him. He had become quite caring and loving towards me. One day he brought me flowers, another day a dress he had seen in his lunch hour, another day some lingerie. I asked for a kitten to keep me company, but he put his foot down to that. He was allergic to cats.

After six weeks, I had gained nearly a stone and my ribs had a thin layer of fat on them. I worried constantly about this, but Jerro loved it. He would spoon me in bed at night and hold me tight. I started to feel safe in his arms. I had to keep reminding myself, that he was a wanker that slept with prostitutes, so not to get too cosy.

I hadn't worked for nearly two months and life felt strange. I had no attachment to Jerro. He was just a way to a means. This new world without heroin was scarier than the old one. In the old world nothing mattered, whether I lived or died. Death was an easier option sometimes and more pleasing than the thought of not ever scoring again. Everyone knows that if you're dead, the cravings and madness has finished forever. There's no shame, no fear, and no kids.

I started to become really sick in the mornings. It was flipping awful, throwing up everywhere. Jerro thought I'd been using. He began phoning me all the time as if he was my pimp, checking up on me. He would come home and check my arms for track lines. He would stare at my pupils looking for signs. His suspicions drove me crazy. They made me think about using even more.

I was lonely in the flat, I missed the girls, I missed the chat. I couldn't talk to Jerro like I talked to the girls on the street. One day, the addiction was right on me, I needed a fix and I had decided that I'd had enough - being clean, I hailed a taxi and got to the train station to catch the train back to Manchester. I ran over the bridge and onto the platform in my new patent black platform shoes. As I reached the bottom stair, I heard the beep,beep,beep of the train doors closing and the train went off without me. My foot hit the platform with a thud, my ankle twisted and one of the straps burst and left its mounting. I was left with a flapping black patent broken shoe, crying dry tears as the train disappeared into the mist.

A guard looked at me. I snapped. 'Yeh, I need to go home!'

Looking back it must have been a godly intervention. As I came back through the front door of our flat, I knew I'd been saved from myself. Six hours later Jerro came home from work.

'Hi hun, how was your day?'

'Alright.'

The following day I was frozen to the spot as I thought about how close I had come to throwing everything away. My conscience got heavier throughout the days because I had to keep my secret away from Jerro. He didn't suspect a thing. But it taught me that I was struggling and needed some help and some friends. I was starving for someone to talk too who would understand me. For the first time since being a child I began to feel quite lonely.

I didn't realise but one day I was telling Jerro about my poor old horrible day in front on the and he turned to me and told me 'to man up and grow some!' Then I recognised the grave ache of loneliness n my gut. I had felt that since I had been a child, because I did, I would just jack up, but now I couldn't. I looked online for the nearest Narcotics Anonymous meetings and found out that they were on every day. _Maybe someone there, might be able to understand what I was going through, better than him._ I thought I'd look into this.

The internet told me where the next meeting was. I decided I would go along; however, I chickened out. And the next day, and the next day and the next week. Eventually I opened up to Jerro and told him I needed more out of life, I needed to be around like minded people. I needed to be distracted from the empty dark hole inside me that drugs had left behind.

'But you're clean, you're cured.' Was his answer to everything.

'I'm not, Jerro, I'm too scared to go out alone, I don't trust myself. I know I will score, and all this will all be for nothing. I want to go to an NA meeting and make some new friends, friends like me, who are clean and can help each other.' He looked down at the floor.

I recognised his sulking. 'You are helping me, Jerro, but they are going through it at the same as me. I've tried to go. But I can't. I'm too scared to go. I want to go, I want to use. What can I do, Jerro?'

I looked at my bare feet. 'Come on girl, I will come with you.'

Chapter Two

Our first NA meeting was filled with people just like me. Jerro held my hand and every now and again gave me a little squeeze to show me, he was still there for me. As I looked around the room, I couldn't help but notice, how many horny men there were. I'd recognised a couple of them from the streets; maybe we'd done a trick together. I was good at faces, but not names. The only names I remembered were the dealers. They had kept me sane! There was a girl who I had worked with on the streets, she looked amazing. She must have been a few years clean. After the main share, she came over and discreetly showed me and Jerro where to get a cup of tea and a biscuit from. It felt good that she had protected my anonymity. Jerro didn't guess anything.

Meetings were on every day, so Jerro booked me a taxi to take me at the same time, every day. The taxi driver was a young black chap, mid-twenties and always smiling and cheerful. He never asked questions, just sang along to himself and R. Kelly up front. I didn't want to talk.

As time elapsed, I became supported on a one-to-one basis with a girl who was now called my sponsor. Together, she guided me through the NA twelve step programme. I had to face up to my past life which made me want to run. The last thing I wanted to do was apologise for the wrongs I had done in my life and go around asking people to forgive me. I couldn't remember half of the shit I'd caused, but after listening to other members share their stories, I recognised similar traits in myself, daily. Jerro said I was progressing. As I got out every day, things became less strained between us consequentially he started to relax around me.

In the rooms I was surrounded by good looking men and shared quite a lot of extended flirty glares and chit chat at coffee breaks. Every day I could see that I was changing and once I'd got a few clothes together, I started to feel less grubby and quite girly. At home though, my interest in Jerro was waning. I was grateful to him for rescuing me from the streets. But he wasn't my type. I knew I didn't want to be with him. One day at a meeting, I was feeling a bit rough. I passed out onto the floor. Bang! Just like that.

I woke up, surrounded by a few members and Tom the first aider. As I came round, he told me that an ambulance had been called. I told them not to fuss, that I felt fine, a bit confused, but fine though. I felt something wet and realised, I was lying in a puddle of pee. There was no need for an ambulance, all I needed was a sit down in peace. Reluctantly, I went along to the hospital in the ambulance to have my blood and urine taken and tested. In there they gave me a cup of tea. An hour or so later Jerro arrived just as I was being ushered into the consultant's office.

'How are you feeling now Samantha?'

'Fine, it's a fuss about nothing. I don't think I've eaten today.'

'It could be that, but also, it could be the fact that you are expecting Samantha. You are pregnant.'

Wide mouthed, Jerro and I glared at him from the other side of the desk.

That was all I needed. I didn't want another baby. Another baby that they would take off me. I did not want to have to stay with Jerro. I did not want a baby.

For once Jerro was speechless. He drove me home in silence. We had tea in silence. I hid in the bedroom with my headset on as Pink sang wildly into my ears. This was the last thing I needed. I must have been at least three months pregnant. I prayed that it was not too late to get rid of it. Jerro came into the bedroom after an hour or so.

'Samantha, what are we going to do?

Do you want another baby?

Do you want to have my baby?

Do you think the baby will be alright?' I couldn't answer him.

Oh my God! Whatever you decide is what we will do!'

All I knew was that if Social Services got a whiff of this, I'd have the baby taken off me 'as soon as.'

'I need time to think!' I barked at him. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to this bastard. Fuck, I was in deep shit. I was going to have to tell him that I had already had two children, and they had been taken off me because of the drugs. I was panicking, If I kept it I wouldn't even be able to leave him now. All I wanted to do was use. Picking up my phone, I phoned Carol in Manchester. No answer

Brian...... No answer

Kez ...............'I will be there in an hour!' he said.

Knowing now, what I didn't know then. I should have picked up the phone and called a friend from NA, not my pimp. So standing outside the block of flats, that Jerro and I had taken shelter from the world in for the past few months, Kez picked me up and thrust a wrap of gear, into my hand. The silver foil felt familiar. The spoon felt cold. But I was desperate to use. We parked around the corner and set up the works. Chasing the Dragon, soothed the spot.

Kez didn't ask any questions, he just told me that there was lots of this where he came from and he 'would see me alright!' Back in Manchester that evening, I picked up and shared a needle with a couple of the other girls. It was bliss. The following day, I was back working to pay for my gear. My tolerance level was low so a £10 bag lasted a good six hours before I needed another fix. Even though, I wasn't laughing and joking like I had done with Jerro. The heroin made me feel safe. I knew who I was and the demons were kept at bay. There was no time to remember anything. The weight dropped off me and I started to recognise my body again. All my problems had gone. Until after about a week.

I was stood on Union Street, and a white Audi slid past me by the side of the pavement, the door opened.

'Are you looking for business?' I asked into the car, to be met by Jerro's right arm grabbing hold of my bag and pulling me inside.

'Get in, Get in.' He yanked me in and locked the central locking.

Terrified, I didn't say a word. I was trapped inside, he drove fast. I looked at his neck, it was red with rage.

'Where have you been, I have been worried sick, Samantha. I've looked everywhere for you.' He took his eyes off the road. 'Samantha, I didn't know if you were alive or dead.' There was a tear running down his cheek. 'I've been so frightened.'

I hid my face on my knees.

'Are you alright?' His voice was getting louder. 'What's wrong with you Samantha? For fuck's sake talk to me.'

Through my bleary eyesight, I saw the road signs for Stockport and realised he was taking me back.

'We won't be safe there, Kez knows where the flat is.'

'Just let that bastard come anywhere near my house, I will shoot him.' He roared.

'How the fuck did you just disappear like that, Samantha?'

'I wanted a fix, that's all, I just wanted a fix, I hate being clean. I hate remembering, I hate you, I hate being pregnant. I just want to be dead. I don't want to live. I want to die. To be at peace. Get it!' I screamed at him.

'I get it, but Samantha,' he looked at me with a strange fondness in his eyes, 'That's my baby too.' Silence filled the car. 'Do you still have the baby?'

'How the fuck do I know,' I snapped back. 'Are you asking did I abort it? No I fucking didn't! Is it still alive? I don't fucking know and I don't fucking care.'

My rage was intensified by my cravings. I needed a fix not a fucking lecture.

Jerro grabbed my bag and stole my phone.

'You, girl, are going cold turkey and I don't give a shit, if you and the baby survive. If you do and if you don't, that's just how it is.'

He pushed me through the flat door and slammed it shut. As I clucked in the corner by the side of the toilet. I heard him double bolt the doors and windows too.

The next few days were the worst days of my life as my body withdrew from the heroin again. It was harder this time. Jerro never left the flat. The only time the door was unbolted was when a pizza or a curry was delivered. He watched me suffer and I think he enjoyed every painful minute of it.

In hindsight, it was growing pains. I had to grow up and he was strong enough to let me. On the fourth day, I felt the baby move. On the fifth day, I felt the baby kick. Every day, my body recovered. The baby moved more. After two weeks of detoxing, I was looking like the old/new Samantha. Humbly, I returned to the NA rooms and began sharing my story. I learnt that it wasn't embarrassing to admit failure. It was part of the journey and to be honest, nearly everyone had relapsed at one time or another. I learnt a lot from it. The biggest lesson was that every relapse got harder to get over. I also learnt that I was weak, and in my weakness, I was powerless and hid behind drugs. Na the perfect training ground for me as I needed protecting from myself.

My pregnancy was becoming too big to hide and I found a new friend to confide in. Janice. She had two children and had also been a working girl, a few years previous. Her children had been taken away from her but nowadays she had visiting rights to see them every day. She had kept a good relationship with Social Services and together they were all working towards resettling Janice and the kids back together, permanently. She was going to be housed and re-introduced to full time parenting, under supervision, very very soon.

Janice was a great support, she had relapsed several times, but this time, she swore she would never go back. She had too much to live for, she said. Over the next few weeks we became thick as thieves. We would chat about the old days, the laughs, the tears, the people we worked with and all their dramas. We both agreed that life had seemed much more exciting in those days. 'Now look at us. Domestic bloody goddesses!'

'Are you happy, Samantha?'

'I wish I could answer that in one word, starting with a Y. But I just can't. If I was to be happy, I wouldn't sleep, I would want more. I don't like feeling good, I don't like looking in the mirror and seeing pretty bloody Samantha every day.

'Yeh, I know, I know where you're coming from. It's like the outside has been transformed but the inside hasn't.' Janice agreed.

So it was true, the past still haunted her too. We were birds of a feather. We knew how dark and black our insides were. Janice tried to make a laugh out of any situation and jested, that a few weeks before they'd met, Samantha was blacker than she was today,

'Look at you Samantha, the black's turning grey.'

Maybe she was speaking the truth? I suppose with every day away from the gear and my old life, I could be nearing the white and starting to shine. _Embarrassingly and to be honest, it did look like that in the mirror!_

Time always went by too quick at Janice's, she never judged me, she just accepted me. I relaxed with her and was simply 'me.' I'd never felt this belonging feeling since I'd been a child.

As I sat in the taxi home, listening to R. Kelly, I remembered some childhood days laying on the sofa, listening to Blue Peter. I was curled up under a blanket, It was the nicest feeling. I was with my longest-ever foster parents, _I think it was Dave and what was her Name?_ They had a cat, a Sphinx cat - 'Skinhead', I called it, just like me. I had chunks missing off my head from Alopecia. I would roll the cat under the cover with me to keep the poor thing warm. I'd talk to it and tell it, that it didn't matter if it had no hair and was all wrinkly, that I'd love it forever. I'd teach it how to watch TV, and how to be a good cat and one day, I remember promising Skinhead that I would take her on Blue Peter and I would get her a coat and a Blue Peter badge. I think I was very young then. As the taxi rumbled on towards the flat, I chuckled to myself. _That was a lovely memory. Wait till I tell Jerro. He thinks all I talk about are bad things!_ But then, if I told Jerro that, I would have to tell him the rest, about my shame filled childhood within the care system. Then he would ask about my mum. I was not telling him anything about her, I hated her. He'd never want me around his baby if he knew about how I was brought up. Ok, he's not my Mr Right, but he is Mr Right, right now, and if I stay with him, he holds the ticket for me, keeping my children!

'Hey Babe, you're looking happier today. '

'Yeh, feel good, saw Janice and the kids today.'

'Get us a tinny?'

So, that was that for the rest of the evening. Jerro, beer and football, me watching his size 14 feet kick imaginary footballs around the lounge whilst slurping at his beer. He asked me to chuck a pizza in the oven. So I did. Half an hour later he's screaming at me.

'You've burnt the bloody food.'

He never asked me to get it out. It was not as if I was hungry. As I watched him eat the burnt pizza like a cement mixer, I began to feel sick.

His loud chanting at the TV warned me that his team was winning. I began to dread the football ending. I knew what came next. I curled up in bed with my back towards his side, my nightie pulled down as far as it would go. As soon as I heard the ping,pong of the TV going on standby I put my book down and pretended I'd been asleep for hours. He pulled the duvet back and curled his old sloppy body around me. His cold hands tried to rouse me from my pretend sleep. Nuzzling into my neck and sliding his hands up and over my breasts. I didn't respond. As I lay rigid, he fiddled and taunted my inflamed pregnant nipples. Inside I was screaming. _Fuck off. Fuck off, I don't want you. Fuck off and leave me alone._ Yet he curled deeper into the backs of my legs. I could feel his erection through my nightie and knew he was going to help himself. My stomach was wrenching, I tasted bile in the back of my throat. His hands wandered down towards my crotch by passing my swollen bulge, he plunged his fingers deep inside me, they made a path for his unwashed penis. He pulled my nightie up and probed himself into me. His fat wobbling body sweated alongside mine. Not a sound came from my being.

With his head balancing on his right hand, he thudded and thudded into me. I could have been a corpse, he wouldn't have cared. His testicles slapped the backs of my legs as I surrendered, until he climaxed. His juices dripped out from between my legs, leaving me lying in a sticky patch. He rolled over and instantly I heard his heavy breathing turn into snores. I got up to wash him off me.

I scrubbed with the soap but it wouldn't clean me. The bath exfoliating sponge would not clean me either. I turned to the bath cleaner, then the bleach. I was desperate to rid myself of him! Putting a dot on the sponge, I scrubbed and scrubbed myself raw. Till eventually I saw blood. I knew I had gone too far. I was in agony. I sat on the sink and flushed loads of cold water up at my vagina. The burning in my groin was excruciating. Blisters started forming around my vulva. I watched as the mirror between my legs told me the tale of 'what not to do,' I was in agony and I needed medical treatment. But, if I went to the hospital for the burns they would know I was pregnant and tell Social Services. I had to be clever. Torturing fear took over me, as I crouched besides the toilet pan, I thought I may have poisoned the baby, I had to find a way out. Jerro had not even stirred, he snored like a train going through tunnels. He would be livid, if I'd woken him.

I crawled along the bedroom carpet and gathered up a few clothes. I took £20 from his wallet. Before leaving the flat, I packed loads of wet toilet roll into my knickers to calm the throbbing. I left the flat and went to stand outside whilst I waited for the cab. I didn't have to wait long before a black cab came along. The short taxi ride dropped me at A&E and within minutes I was admitted and seen by the triage nurse. As time was of the essence, I was pushed by wheelchair into the special burns unit and seen by a doctor almost immediately. Bathing my wounds was awkward to say the least but after a pain- killing injection and my privates being wrapped in cling-film I stopped weeping and received antibiotics through a drip to stop the burns from becoming infected. When the hospital tried to find my records all hell broke loose.

'Janice, we can't find your records!' The nurse said. It took a second for me to click at the Name.

'Please can you tell us your address again, Janice?'

Whilst the nurses were looking up my notes, I ripped the intravenous cannula out of my arm and made a quick run for it. I managed to get out of the hospital without anyone noticing. The red lights at the ambulance stop sign glared brightly at me. The red pedestrian crossing lights told me not to walk. The red sign in the bus stop told me that the night bus was coming in less than five minutes.

Exhausted, I made my way home. The bus pulled away and as I looked behind, I saw the triage nurse outside the main doors, smoking a cigarette. _Boy, that was a close escape!_

Arriving home, I could hardly stand, exhaustion had overtaken me. I looked at Jerro's huge mound. It was in the same place as where I'd left him, hours before. The thought of what had happened turned my stomach. My crotch started to throb again, so I grabbed a handful of paracetamol from the bathroom cupboard and curled up on the sofa. Daylight broke and Jerro towered over me, he asked if I was ok?

His face was still, like a frozen millpond. He patted my stomach and grabbed his briefcase and went to work without saying another word. Lying there, I reflected over the night before and the feelings I'd experienced in the past twenty-four hours. From togetherness, to cosy and safe, to rape then burns victim, to being illusive and secretive, now being full of hate, lies and thoughts of revenge.

_How dare that smelly Nigerian help himself to my body? Banging my baby about, like he had a right?_ Raging and trying to go back to sleep, I cursed the ground he walked on. Two coffees later, I knew I had to get away. But there was only one place I could go to. Inside my purse, £12.53 rattled. I must have been about six months pregnant and I could still work, I'd done it with Leon. I wouldn't be able to have full sex but I could give head. That's what most blokes wanted anyway.

During the day, I pondered over how to get away. All days my fingers hovered over the instant redial for Kez's number. Desperately, I tried not to phone him, I was saved by the bell as Janice rang.

'Hey Samantha, what you up to today?'

'Nothing.'

I'm near yours, at my cousins, a couple of streets away. You free for a cuppa?' I didn't really get a chance to reject this southern lass. She didn't take long to arrive, when she sat down and took a good look at me, she was horrified. The pain was etched on my face and she knew straight away that I was hiding something. The throbbing truth of what had happened to me the night before was exploding and I needed to regurgitate the story, I was trembling with fear until I could hold it no longer. As I went to sit, Janice joked.

'You needing a good poo, Gal, or has Jerro kicked you up the arse? Looks like you're going to shit yourself!'

Tears thundered down my cheeks. I was in agony physically and mentally, I felt like I was being tortured.

'Janice, I need you to promise me, hookers' honour, that you won't breathe a word of what I am about to tell you!'

An hour later, after drying my tears and holding my hair back when I purged into the toilet, for the second time that day, Janice picked up the phone and spoke calmly to a friend of a friend. The pain killers were working but I needed my dressings changed.

'You stupid bloody cow Samantha, you could, well, you couldn't have done anything more horrific to yourself, if you'd tried.'

The friend came and had a look at the fresh calluses in my groin and told me to relax, they were not infected yet. However, I did need to see a doctor.

'I will go tomorrow, I promised.' She left me with a packet of stolen antibiotics and her phone number.

Luckily, Jerro left me alone in the bedroom department for a few days and the welts seemed to heal. Amazingly, I began to feel clean inside. Janice checked in with me every few hours and after one week she left me a whole day without calling to check on me. Jerro didn't have a clue. The following week he tried to have sex with me and I lied and told him that I'd been to the doctor and it wasn't advisable. This excuse gave me a few weeks of freedom. He was quite happy with a hand or a blow job anyway.

As I brushed my teeth my gums began to bleed. Then for no reason at all, two of my front teeth fell out. I was too terrified to go to the dentist, but Jerro forced me to get into the car and pushed me through the dentist's door. He did not have a clue what he was doing!

The questions, the lies, I was going to have to give, had stunned me into silence. Standing at reception, he gave my real Name. That was the worst thing he could have possibly done! I had to answer to it, sign for it and what made the whole situation so bloody wrong was, now I was exposed and recorded as pregnant and acceptable for free NHS treatment, for two bloody teeth they ironically couldn't put back in. Social Services could trace me. Jerro thought it was great, he didn't even have to pay for my dental treatment!

I had been safe at the hospital as I'd given Janice's Name. Fuming, I told him he was a self-righteous dick. All he cared about was what he looked like and who he was with. The dentist checked my teeth and gave me a lecture on poor hygiene and gum disease. He told me in front of Jerro, that I needed extensive treatment, over eleven fillings. I needed to have several teeth extracted as they were just black rotten stubs and I desperately needed a scale and polish. I quivered lying on the folded back seat, as tears dripped into my nostrils.

Nothing was hurting, no-one else was bothered about the teeth in my head. But now the fucking Social Services were going to find out I was having another baby and they would take it away. The NHS even had my fucking address now. I had to either own up to him about my past, face being disowned or just get away.

At reception, I threw Jerro a thousand daggers in every glare, as I signed the documents for free dental care due to pregnancy.

'Drop me at Janice's,' I ordered when we were in the car. He charged through the traffic as I cried heavy tears. The palm of my hand was covered in snot and tears, everything was going wrong. Now I was going to have to have loads of fillings and extractions and loads of injections too. I was allergic to needles. I couldn't have injections! Who did they think they were?

My tears must have disturbed Jerro. Sulking, he drove in silence to Janice's. At her door, she held me in her arms. I bawled fresh tears and somehow told her what had just happened to me. With a wave of her hand, she shooed Jerro away and put her hand to her ear and mouthed, 'will phone you.' Janice welcomed me into her home, she had her kids that day and asked Dwaine and Sasha to let Mummy have a special five minutes with Samantha. The kids came over and cuddled me then quietly left the room.

'I want this, Janice.' 'I want my baby!' 'Janice what am I going to do?'

Her soothing infusion of Yorkshire tea mellowed my heart and eventually I managed to dunk a custard cream biscuit into the hot brew and stop crying. It had been the first thing to hit my tummy that day.

'What would your sexy dentist say if he saw you eating a biscuit, with sugar?' Janice joked.

'Probably, tell Social fucking Services I'm eating sugar!'

'Oh, dear! This is really becoming a massive issue for you.' Janice reflected this back to me. Then she horrified me with a simple statement.

'Maybe, Samantha, you won't like this ..... but.... maybe Social Services can help you!' The big white elephant entered the room. Silence followed. 'Samantha, they help me so much nowadays. Look they are even getting me my kids back.'

I'd heard enough. I was so angry with Jerro, now her, I couldn't reply. Had Jerro told her to say that? Had she been talking about me to her precious social worker. Something was going on here that I did not know about. It was all so much out of my control. At that moment I needed to be away, I did not want to be anywhere near Janice or Jerro or her kids or anyone. I needed to walk and be free. I needed to talk to my real friends. I grabbed my bag and hoisted my huge frame from her squelchy sofa. Dizzy with exertion, I wobbled towards the door, turned the catch and left. Janice stood horrified as I closed the door behind me. I couldn't comprehend what she had just said.

Social Services could help me! How? By taking my baby. By holding my hand through the birth, then taking my baby. By giving Jerro all the rights as a father and not allowing me access to my own baby. By watching me every minute of every fucking day!

As I walked around the streets my thinking cleared. Feasibly, they could not do that. Feasibly, Jerro would not let them take the baby. It was his baby after all. In their eyes, he had never done anything wrong. He had loads of rights. And, as long as I stayed with him and as long as I kept him happy, I could have my baby and keep it. It didn't take much to keep him happy.

Look at the other night! Janice had joked 'pull me nightie down when you've finished, love!' That was better than being out on the streets, sucking dirty fat fuckers' cocks for my next fix. Maybe Janice had been right, maybe she could speak to her social worker on the quiet and suss the situation out. My feet took me back to the flat, to be honest, I felt one hundred years younger. Jerro's worried face loosened when I leaned in to kiss him and thank him for leaving me at Janice's to work things out.

I had no option. I had to confess to Jerro about Christopher and Leon. I begged him to understand that I was on drugs then and now, I was a different person. I was with him and I'd learnt my lesson. I promised faithfully, that my addiction was in the past and I didn't really need NA meetings anymore. But I did want to keep my finger in the pie, so to speak.

He was overjoyed to hear that I was cured. He said he would try to stop worrying about me then. We spent hours talking over the situation and the viability of the Social Services taking the baby away and by early morning he made me promise that I would go with him the next day to see a doctor.

For the first time since he had helped himself, I felt at home in Jerro's arms. We could be a family. They couldn't touch me if I was with him. He had given me the answer on how to keep my own children.

Chapter Three

Doctor Jervis sat wide eyed and didn't blink once as I told him about our pregnancy.

'You haven't been to any antenatal appointments as yet?' We nodded. He was shocked, I could hear it in his voice. Then I had to tell him about the other pregnancies and the children who had been taken away from me. However I told him that I was nearly seven months clean, and in a stable relationship. Jerro stroked my hand.

'We had planned this pregnancy Doctor.' I fibbed. 'We are so excited to be expecting.' I looked lovingly at Jerro.

'I will have to inform Social Services, Samantha.'

'I know. I knew you would. But Doctor, everything's going to be fine, I'm in a different place in my life now, Sir. Everything's going to be fine.'

And surprise, surprise, it was.

My first antenatal check and scan went amazingly well. The baby was the right size, it looked like it had an elephant's heart-beat, it boomed at us from the monitor. They asked if we wanted to know the sex; of course we did! It was a baby girl and she was due in just over eight weeks.

Social services were informed and paid us visit upon visits until the birth. They checked out my dental records and acknowledged that I was taking care of myself. They saw that I'd registered with a doctor and a dentist and was undergoing dental treatment. These were good brownie points for me. They knew I was friends with Janice and had only heard positive things about me. The drug tests which they carried out all came back negative. Even the hair strand test. That showed whether drugs had been taken in the past three months. (I never thought I would have passed that, but I did!)

Jerro was happy with the odd hand job every now and then. As each day went by, I swelled like a big telly tubby.

Janice still dragged me to NA meetings, then I became too tired to go.

'Hey gal, you're going from black to grey, to pink. Ha, ha. But seriously, maybe we should bring meetings to you for this last couple of weeks.'

She was amazing. I was so blessed to have this remarkable woman by my side. How could life have been more perfect? However it didn't take a couple of weeks, it didn't even take one home group meeting. At eight and a half months gestation, Janice, Tom and a new girl, Sarah, who had just come into recovery, rang my doorbell. I groped around for a chair to pull my bludgeoning body up from its static place on the sofa. The force put weight on my lower abdomen and as Janice showed herself in and came towards me to hug me – hello - Whoosh! - I burst. My waters splayed everywhere. Janice of course laughed and laughed. The more she laughed, the more I laughed. Every convulsion of laughter brought on another torrential flood of water from my groin.

Designer-stubbled Tom announced as he took control of the situation. 'I'm calling for an ambulance and for Jerro.' He went outside the flat away from all the commotion.

'He doesn't want to play midwife!' Janice giggled.

'Stop it Janice!' I screamed, another bucket full seeming to expel from my girth. The other girl, Sarah, ran into the bathroom and got some towels. 'I'm not having it here.' I screamed.

'Like to bet on that,' chuckled Janice. Sarah went to work on the carpet trampling the towels into the spread of fluid, soaking up the moisture. Luckily the waters were clear. The ambulance crew only took a few minutes to arrive and on first impressions, all was normal and they told me I would be safely in hospital before the baby came. With this news, Jerro was on his way and he was going to meet us at the hospital. Within an hour he was there, alongside the social worker who we were now introduced to as Jill. Between contractions Jill explained that once the baby was born, my case would be transferred from Adult Social Services to Children's Social Services. She reiterated that they were not going to take the baby away. They were satisfied with their investigations so far. However she stayed till baby Hope entered the world weighing 5lb 6oz.

Hope had a flock of dark curls, like her daddy. Dark olive skin, a mishmash of both of our skin colours, but more importantly, as Janice couldn't wait to announce, she had a cute cherubic nose - like me - and not a big hooter like Jerro!

'Aw! Can I hold her?' Janice asked.

'You sure can, fairy godmother!'

It was an honour to share this moment with Jerro and Janice.

Tom and Sarah popped round in the visiting hours later with a big balloon and some chocolates.

'For you,' Tom announced 'for being so brave, and for not weeing on my feet.'

The next few weeks went by in a whirl. Hope was a beautiful baby. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Everything seemed calm.

I always thought it would have been hard work being sober and having a baby to look after. I had struggled so much with Christopher. He had never slept, I never slept either. I had to work at the same time as feeding him. I was completely at the will of my dealer and I was out of my head on gear most days. I had prayed every day for my mum to come and rescue me and Christopher, but she never came. Every minute was a minute less of powerlessness in this world. I was grey with exhaustion. Because of this I had to use more, so I had to work more. The more I worked, the more Christopher had to be left with the other working girls. It was a vicious cycle. So when I wasn't working, I was landed with Christopher and the other girls' kids to look after, freeing them up so they could work too. Kez had made sure we were kept under the social services radar. He kept us all in a lovely house with three other mums and two babies and a toddler. It was only when Christopher started the pre-school, that life became unbearable. Christopher and I did everything correctly. We stuck together like syrup on toast, I would have done anything to keep him.

Love is a funny thing. I never spent time enraptured in our love. This time, it was different. With Hope, we were enmeshed from the beginning.

Jerro trusted me with Hope and never questioned my abilities as a mother. With his blessing we spent our days in blissful union. Jill the social worker popped by a few times a week and had no concerns either. All my drug test results came back clean, so everything was fine. Janice and Tom came over a couple of times to check in and share recovery. I had not even thought about using since Hope had come along, I felt indestructible. The adrenaline fuelled me into a euphoric state of mind which lasted a few weeks. Then one day I began to hear voices. They got louder and louder. Just the odd one at first, then they became more regular. Hateful, evil voices. Telling me I was a bad mother, that I didn't deserve to have Hope because I'd abandoned Christopher and Leon. I was evil and didn't deserve the title 'Mum'. Who did I think I was? I was riddled with fear and a gravelly guilt; I soon began to toss and turn each night, until eventually I stopped sleeping altogether.

Every night after putting Hope down for the night, I would doze for an hour or two then something would rouse me and the rest of the night I would be pacing the flat, arguing with the persistent voices in my head. I couldn't escape them. Wherever I went they followed me. Taunting me, telling me I was ugly, that no one liked me. That no one had ever liked me. Why don't you just kill yourself? You know you're evil. Give the baby to Jerro. Go away and never come back. You will never be trusted. No one would ever want you to be their mother.

This never ending taunting lasted all through the night. At daybreak they would subside and with Hope curled up between Jerro and me, I would gradually loll back to sleep and the voices would stop. I couldn't tell anyone, not even Janice. She could maybe mention it to her social worker and then Jill would know that I was really crazy. We all knew the final part of that story - all too well! I couldn't tell anyone, so as the days and nights went by, ever so slowly, my energy levels dropped. Janice became really concerned.

She was due to have her children home permanently within days so she was trying to concentrate all her energies on her own life and not rescuing me. Her new home was all prepared and the kids were all excited about coming 'home.' It had been a long road for them all. As the voices increased and became faster and more thorough, I needed Janice to talk to. But I knew she had moved on. I needed someone to talk to that would not judge me, who had time to listen, so I texted Tom from the NA. I had decided he would be a safe bet. He would never report me. He was lovely, light and funny, the best medicine I could have asked for, he completely distracted me. He came to the flat that afternoon and I spend hours listening whilst he told me the funny stories of what he used to do to fund his addiction. I forgot about the voices and didn't say anything about them.

He was like a breath of fresh air. He had been a real daredevil or I should say, used to be, conning old people out of money, carrying out fraudulent drug testing online, raising money for charity and using it on his habit. But, that was years ago, he was four and a half years clean, and although he wasn't working fulltime, he volunteered at an Adult Education centre for adults with learning disabilities. He loved the opportunity to help and give back to society. He was making amends with his Maker, he said.

Hope closed in on Tom and I wished that he was her Daddy instead of Jerro. Everything seemed so perfect. As soon as he left the voices came back with a vengeance.

'He hates you. He didn't like you, he didn't want to be with you. Who do you think you are Roxy? He's not interested in you. Did you see the way he looked at you? Hooker. Slut. Prossy. Jay walker. You could never get him Roxy. You're filth.....'

By the time Jerro came in from work, I couldn't take any more. All hell had broken loose. Hope had been screaming and crying nonstop. The screaming was piercing my eardrums. I had put her in her cot and watched her from a distance, then hid myself away from her voice, and curled myself up into a snotty ball in the airing cupboard. Jerro heard it as he came up the stairs. The voices were battling each other to tell me hateful things about myself. Jerro called and called for me. He heard me rocking in the cupboard, he said.

Curled into a ball with my head on my knees and hands pressed tightly against my ears, whilst I rocked and sucked my thumb. All I remember is screaming, 'Go away, get out of my head, leave me alone! Fuck off! Fuck off now! '  
Jerro was terrified. He went to pick up Hope to stop her crying. She was saturated in urine and he trembled changing her. He talked to me calmly, saying,

'It's ok Sam, everything's going to be ok.' Apparently he phoned Janice, and she came over and calmed me down. He wanted to phone the doctor but she said, not yet! Janice must have dropped everything because she was there within minutes, cuddling her piss wet friend.

'Everything's going to be alright, Sam, what you're going through is normal. It's normal.' She hummed and cradled me in her arms. After some time, my body calmed and she put me in the shower fully dressed. She held a towel out for me and asked me if I was ok, could she help me undress and shower properly. She phoned the doctor and she promised me that he would say - it was normal too.

I soon found out that what I was going through was perfectly normal. I was in the grips of severe postnatal depression. Dr Jervis confirmed Janice's diagnosis and after taking my blood pressure, he gave me a valium to calm me down. He prescribed me a course of anti-depressants. A wondrous splendour of heat overtook every nerve in my being. It forced me to surrender to a heavenly peace. Jerro watched over me most of the night with lovely Hope curled into the crevice of his arm. I slept fitfully and woke early to hear him telling Hope,

'Mummy's not too well today, so Daddy's taking a few days off work, to look after his girls.'

For three days I drifted in and out of sleep. Waking to drink, take pills and cuddle Hope. That was enough! I was exhausted.

I was so grateful for Janice, Jerro and Tom's love and care.

Once the SSRI's kicked in and my serotonin levels in my brain replenished themselves, bit by bit, I began to smile again. The voices took a couple of weeks to subside and go away completely. Looking back, that was a really scary time. If we hadn't have got our own doctor, I could have been sectioned. Ours, understood postnatal depression. I had been lucky.

When Janice got her kids home for good, Jerro and I surprised them all. We filled their new house with balloons and streamers, McDonalds, cakes and sweets. Toys filled every room and what began as a barren landscape, before Janice had arrived in the taxi with the kids, had become an amazing wonderland of toys for her for them to play with. It was an emotional moment for all six of us. We all ended up in tears. All so grateful and thankful for recovery, sanity and a 'new normal' way of life. Janice reminded us of her prophesy. The grey was turning to, and that included her too. I was no longer Roxy.

Chapter Four

Losing Janice was a big loss to me. Ok, I knew she was on the other end of the phone, but she was so consumed with her children nowadays. Her days consisted of schools runs, shopping, cooking, meetings and mine consisted of Hope and I. Ok, and Jerro. He was an amazing doting father. I respected him, for supporting us practically and protecting us but something was missing. I didn't love him and however hard I tried, I just couldn't shake the fact that he was a man who slept with prostitutes.

I don't know how my view fits into the whole scheme of things, but he didn't earn my respect. Whereas Tom, on the other hand, had never slept with a prostitute. Ok, he had been a bad boy but look at him now, working with the mentally handicapped, making good everything he had done bad in his past. He said, I'm good at being bad and good at being good.

The more I mixed with him the more I trusted him, and fell in love with him. We gelled like crumble and custard. In meetings we would sit together, then afterwards drink tea together, always watching out for each other during the week. He was still in contact with Janice, but not as much as he used to. We needed each other to speak into each other's lives. Just like Janice and I used to. Jerro never questioned our friendship. To be honest it was 'recovery' and none of his darned business. I was ticking all the boxes at home, with Social Services, with the health visitor and the doctors. My depression was under control and I needed Tom, he made me feel freer than I'd ever felt in my life. His smile caressed my heart and I felt safe to let him touch it. His words and arms collected my tears as we shared our losses and fears. Our friendship was pure and solid.

Ok, I dreamed, fantasized over being his lover. I spent hours getting myself ready every time we met. I wanted to lure him in but he was more into his recovery than he was into pursuing my body or anybody else's. It took me months to understand this but he explained his reasons, over and over again.

'Samantha, drugs took away my life once before. I cannot afford to be in a relationship with someone else, until I can trust myself to be in relationship with myself.

Every day I find out more about myself and every day I like myself a bit more. I am not strong enough yet to risk my recovery. If a relationship broke me, I would probably pick up drugs again. I am not strong enough yet to trust myself to know that under whatever circumstances, I will never pick up drugs again. I am still haunted by the ghoul on my shoulder, bellowing at me to use every day. It will be ok, just the once.' It says.

Horrified, I listened and could not comprehend that nearly five years into recovery, Tom was still tempted to pick up.

'Will I ever be free?' I asked. He shrugged his shoulders.

I had been freed from the voices. I had been freed from feeling negative about myself. I was enjoying being a Mummy, yet I craved love with a vengeance. Was I swapping my drug addiction for a love addiction?

In my bedroom most nights, it was a case of 'pull my nightie down when you've finished.' This was so routine, it didn't bother me anymore. The bleaching episode was poor compensation for my purification. NA was the only tool in the box for a safe clean life. Even though those days I was consumed with my lust for Tom.

I pleaded and begged Jerro to lend me the money to have my teeth fixed properly, I wanted veneers, like Katie Price. I was desperate to look good for Tom. I was on a mission!

Jerro ummed and ahhhed for nearly two months. I behaved and wanted him like his personal sexual goddess throughout this time, allowing him extra sexual favours and fantasies. It worked, he's still a bloke. Eventually he caved and dispersed with £2200, for my new set of veneers.

The treatment lasted several sessions. It was awful, injections, drilling, bleeding, having false teeth on plates glued into my mouth every day for over a month, waiting for my gums to heal. The stench was horrendous. After a couple of infections, eventually, two months later my new Hollywood smile came into being. It was the greatest gift a girl could have ever received.' I grinned like a Cheshire cat all day long. Ok, I talked with a terrible lisp for weeks, but I'd never felt so perfect in my whole life.

The response I got from other people I passed in the street or smiled at in the car was amazing. It felt like the world was in love with me. All I had to do was smile. I exhumed happiness and life. Tom's first reaction to me, now, it was of wonder. He stood back and squealed.

'How can I not snog the face off you? Oh Samantha, you are so beautiful.'

His words meant the world to me. The months of gut wrenching sex I had to perform were all worth it now. To hear Tom's words. I knew then that what I felt was mutual. I was in love with Tom and he was in love with me. Nothing else mattered.

Jerro didn't mind me going to meetings three times a week. I told him it stopped the nightmares and the voices. However, one Monday evening, Jerro asked Tom to come up for tea, after he had dropped me off. It was just a normal cuppa, chat, gossip, giggle over the tiniest things. Then Tom left, hugging Jerro and kissing Hope. At the door he hugged me.

When I turned to face Jerro, he was blazing

'You bitch, you slut, YOU are fucking him aren't you?' I was gobsmacked.

'You fucking whore. You and him are fucking each other and I'm a fucking dick who's sitting here watching the whole fucking show.' I still couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say. I'd have loved to be fucking him. There was no truth in his accusations. I had no way to prove it. He stormed out and I couldn't do anything. I wanted to run after him but Hope began to cry, then the thought hit me: _What if he's gone after Tom?_

All night I lay awake, waiting for him to come back. The wind and rain was pounding at the window frame. It echoed and I felt ashamed with every gust. But I could not feel shame for something that was not true. I texted Tom and he said that he was fine. He thanked me for tea and said it was lovely seeing Jerro and Hope again. It had been a long time since he'd seen them at the hospital.

So Jerro wasn't there and he wasn't here, I didn't have a clue where he was. He wouldn't answer his phone. Bloody arrogant little man syndrome, he knew what he knew and that was that. I imagined him stomping around like Norris Cole from Coronation Street, in a bar, telling everyone his pretty woman story and now she was turning tricks in her NA meetings. That would just be his level.

I drifted off. To be woken by a freezing body pressed up against my face.

'Suck this Roxy - you fucking whore, suck this and I will leave your fucking money on your bedside.'

Waking, he yanked my head off the pillow and thrust his used penis in my mouth. It smelled of another woman, musty and fresh. He wanted me to know that. The bastard was wrenching the hair out of my head and was punishing me for a crime I had not committed. I gagged as he lunged deeper down my throat, I began convulsing and wrenching myself free. I fought for air. 'Suck it you fucking whore, take it down your throat and don't you dare bite me.'

I could have had him there, I could have gone for gold - Bobbitt style - but professionally I knew this would not last long. He was in such a highly aroused state, he was sure to explode in seconds. And, sure as night is day, I was right. He ejaculated his semen and her smell down my throat and tossed my head away with a huge thudding slap to the side of my head. Trembling with fear, I cupped my cheek in hand as I fought to catch his glare. He kicked my torso then stormed out of the room. Spitting F's and C's. Cursing my every waking moment. My tears went unheard as I sobbed into the pillow. Luckily Hope did not stir. I couldn't have coped with her as well. He stayed in the lounge for the rest of the night, showered and went to work as if nothing had happened.

After he'd left, I tiptoed into the bathroom to look in the mirror. A huge red welt grew on the side of my cheek, it hid the cut in the corner of my eye. Dried blood covered the slit and bruising was beginning to come out in the recess of my nose. Fear rose in me as I remembered that I had a meeting with Jill my social worker at 10am; and it was nearly 7am then. I decided to phone and tell her I had been up with diarrhoea and sickness all night, that Jerro was home too with the same bug, but not to worry, Hope was fine.

'Please could we make the appointment in a couple of days instead.' Reluctantly, she agreed. After all it was my first time, making up excuses.

The days and weeks that were to follow were miserable and uncomfortable to say the least. Jerro stonked around sulking, I begged him to understand that there was nothing going on between us, Tom and I were just friends. However, he knew better, he knew what he knew. To be honest, it empowered me, that he knew that Tom really fancied me. It just confirmed that maybe, maybe, one day, Tom might be mine. _Is it wrong to capitalise on his misery? Nah._

Several times, I smelt other women on him. I came to the conclusion that he was picking up women on the streets. But who was I to judge? However, another positive thought was, he left me alone.

Once I told him that Jerro believed we were lovers. Tom felt really awkward and we only texted each other then. Deep down, we did hope Jerro would grow up and actually realise I was committed to him and would never betray him. Having Hope and our dream of a normal family, wasn't worth risking anything for. She was too precious.

*

I was born in 1980 and from the records that I have managed to access and read over the years, I had been in and out of foster care from the day I was born. My mother had a serious drug problem and repeatedly tried to seek recovery. However, she relapsed many, many times. I had been passed around within the care system and foster homes for years. There were some lovely homes, Dave and Sheila's, _Ah,_ _I remembered her Name._ They were the best, I adored their cats. I've told you this before. They were kind and treated me like a princess. I would lounge around on their thick carpets and pretend I had nine lives like a Sphinx. As a sufferer of alopecia, I had no hair to protect me either, but I was tough. No one could harm me otherwise I would pounce. I could escape any form of predator. I was invincible. I was only there a few months, when Mum got clean again and I was allowed to be taken back. The Social Services were always around checking up on her, drug and drink testing her. Then time would pass and I would be put in the back of a car. Just like Christopher, waving goodbye until next time. I never cried then.

Sheila would never have used drugs, she just loved me. She used to cuddle me, talk to me, sing and bake with me. It was a pure time in my life. A light in the darkness I would say.

*

When things had calmed down and Jerro stopped stomping around and glaring at me, he began to start taking care of himself again. He showered most days and was back worshipping the ground Hope walked on. Bit by bit, I think he had realised he had made a mistake. Tom was a friend and being jealous was contaminating our family. I didn't know at that time, that he had an even bigger secret to lay down upon my table.

Jerro had got a transfer to an office in Edinburgh. We were moving. Everything had been arranged, I had one week to tell Jill that I needed her to arrange a new social worker for me, in Edinburgh. I'd never been north of Manchester and I'd heard Scotland was really cold. I couldn't cope with the cold. I didn't want to go. I couldn't leave Tom!

'Take that fucking growl off your face,' Jerro snapped at me. 'If you don't want to come, I will go with Hope alone. We'll be happier without Social fucking Services breathing down our necks.'

So, that was that. I had to go. I was imprisoned in his belief system. He had control over my child and my mind. After speaking to Jill, she reassured me that it would be a good move and a fresh start for everyone. There were NA meetings there and she would put a support package together for me, so I wouldn't have any problems settling in.

'Scottish people are really friendly.' she told me, 'you will have loads of friends in no time.' She wished us all the luck in the world. A tear dropped from the corner of my eye.

Chapter Five

Jerro's story

That fucking woman, Samantha, is driving me insane. It's a miracle I don't get a gun and blow her fucking head off. She is loop the fucking loop. I've got a good mind to take our little girl over to Nigeria and stop her growing into a replica of her. ' _Jerro, get away from her before you do something stupid!'_ I tell myself.

I've been with Samantha just over six years now. We met in Manchester when I was working at Microsoft. Boy! If I knew then what I know now, I'd have been off like a shot.

We met one night after work. I was heading home and got a bit lost. I saw a pretty hot chick by the side of the road, so I asked directions. She got in the car and said she was going that way and she would show me, if I didn't mind sharing the car with her. Well, one thing led to another, I invited her back for a Chinese and we spent the night together. She left in the early hours, I gave her the money for a cab. A few times, I bumped into her. Once outside the security gate at work. She was a hot chick, bit thin mind, but it was just a sex thing. She was fun in those days, we'd do a bit of cocaine together and spend the nights lost in each other's bodies. It wasn't long until I realised she had a bit of a drug habit but that didn't bother me really. I was away from home and lonely and she made life a bit more exciting. Boy! If I'd have had a girlfriend, it would have cost me more than a few lines of coke.

Can't remember how long I'd known her for but in the early hours of one Saturday morning, I got a phone call.

'Jerro, I'm in the police station. Please, you have got to help me!' So I couldn't be heartless and leave her there. I believe in England, you are only allowed one phone call so I picked her up and brought her back to my hotel. She looked terrible. Craving drugs, sweating profusely, scratching and crouching in horrendous stomach pains. I was horrified. I needed to help her and help her quick.

First, she needed a bath. Whilst she was in there, I took her clothes to the laundry downstairs and asked the night porter to bring them back clean in the afternoon. I could have thumped him with the look he gave me. I ordered some whisky to knock her out but he sneakily offered me some blue pills -benzo's.

'I think that will give her a better night's sleep - Sir?' I dropped him £20, and went back to the room. In the morning he brought the clothes and some more benzos.

I decided that I would help her come off the drugs. She was good in the sack. Until I got bored! Once she cleaned up, she would be quite a catch. Ok, her teeth were a bit manky but if she kept her mouth shut, no one would quess. I loved fucking her. She was light and flexible and would do anything I asked. She was so grateful, however, she was really scared of being found by her ex boyfriend, Kez.

Unable to give her up for the near future, I found us a flat in Stockport and we made a little home there. She became healthier by the day and one day she announced that she had a period. As if it was something to celebrate about. I thought that was a bit weird.

Then a few months down the line, she was at one of those NA meetings, to stop her taking drugs and she passed out. Next thing I know I have to go to the hospital, and she is bloody pregnant. I was horrified. This was not meant to happen. I didn't want to be stuck with her. So being as honest as I could, I asked if she wanted the baby. Then after a few bloody months she ends up telling me that this was her third baby and she had already had two boys. They were taken off her by Social Services, as they knew she had a heroin problem. This was becoming a nightmare. This girl had a big history!

Oh well, I was forty-two years old so I had to rationalise that everyone at our age had history. She put her Name down as Samantha Ibori at the hospital. That is my surname. We sat down and chatted about the baby and decided to keep it. Then all hell broke loose. She disappeared and I found her in Manchester at the same spot on the road where I'd first met her. Call me Naive, I had suspected that it wasn't a coincidence those first few meetings, but I never once guessed - until that night, that I found her - off her face - that she was a real bloody full time prostitute.

Without words, I wrenched her into the car and brought her home. There was a chance that she was still pregnant and by then I'd got used to the idea and was kind of looking forward to becoming a father. She introduced me to Janice. Oh, she was a stunner. I knew I'd have liked to do her from the very start. But, she was smart.

She took hold of Samantha by the hand and led her through many rough patches before and especially after Hope's birth. I admired her strong mind and courage. She had lost her kids to drugs a long time ago but was in the process of having them back to live with her full time.

When the kids came to live with Janice, she was too busy to come over and hang out with Samantha. Samantha took it personally, as she does with everything and thought that Janice had fallen out with her. In the silence that followed, Samantha got attached to that kid, Tom. He would pick her up and drop her off after the meetings but I knew he was wanting more. By this time Janice and I had had a thing. I had fallen out with Samantha over this Tom character and gone round to Janice's for a friend to talk to. It didn't take long before we ended up making out on the sofa. As easy as that!

I was fucking furious with Samantha and wanted to hurt her, so I got her back good and proper. If she was going to fuck around, well, so was I! She didn't say a word. We didn't talk for weeks after. That was fine with me. There was another couple of girls in the office who were so easy, I had to sort them out too. I knew this was going to blow up in my face, so whilst the iron was hot I simply played the field. Call it coincidence, but my boss asked if I would go on a secondment to Edinburgh for two years. I thought about it, then came to the conclusion that it was a golden opportunity for Sam, Hope and I to begin again. I'd never seen Scotland before. I could forgive and forget and get her away from that dick - Tom.

Janice's story.

Janice had just finished tucking her children into bed. Tiptoeing down the stairs in the faded light, she thanked God again for rescuing her from her selfish addiction. Over the past few weeks it had been hard, what with the kids coming home and not being able to go out to meetings and off-load. She missed Tom and Samantha, she had no adults to share her life with. She was riddled with guilt, thinking about it made her gut wrench. _How could she have been so stupid and gullible?_ Rationally, she knew why she had slept with him, because she wanted some intimacy and he was just there! She was starving. It had been a long long time since anyone had paid attention towards her. Her, as a person, not her as a working girl.

He had come round telling her that he had caught Samantha and Tom at it, she thought, 'Oh, what the heck.' It was just a one off, a favour to him and a favour to her. After all, they were adults. When he left he said, 'Thanks.' That second it felt like she hadn't moved on since her days on the streets, she was back being a hooker. That's where her shame came from. That troubled her, more than she thought. She tried to pretend that it did not.

In recovery, it's a programme of honesty and she had to get real or let it fester and become a reason to relapse over. Her selfish actions haunted her day and night. Her social worker was becoming aware that something was not quite right! Janice seemed on edge all the time. Her normal questioning, 'How's things?' turned into 'How are you really, Janice?' 'Is there anything we can do to make life easier for you?' Janice knew that Jill was on the verge of drug testing her, but was giving her a second chance.

Janice pooh-poohed the questions and said she was just a bit lonely, missing meetings and missing her friends. Samantha and Jerro had moved away and were busy with their new baby and new life. Everything in her life was just so different - these days. Jill tried to empathise. Jill made her promise.

'Any problems, you will let me know, we can help!'

But, how could she admit her guilt at what she had done?

She even felt guilty for feeling relief, once she'd found out that they had gone to Scotland. This made her realise that she had had a pretty good life, before them two and they had come along, and nearly ruined everything she was working towards.

Tom

Tom was sad, he had really liked Samantha and had put her on hold, as a girlfriend, for the future. Now she had gone and left a gap in his heart. He couldn't spend his life in limbo and in one act of self-preservation, he deleted and blocked her number on his phone. If he had to make contact with her in the future, he would use Face book.

Chapter Six

The social worker was right. The people I met were lovely and friendly, but I couldn't understand a word they said. I wasn't too impressed with the damp weather. We were to live in a temporary holiday let caravan at first. It was owned by Microsoft and on loan to their employees. Microsoft had three caravans on the site which was ten-and-a-half miles outside Edinburgh. It was nice, because we were surrounded by holiday families, loving life and traipsing home happy and a bit drunk in the small hours. It was supposed to be our temporary home for a few weeks, but that turned into a few months.

It was quite a new caravan, maybe a couple of years old. We thought it would be good, for Hope to be amongst families, enjoying life rather than us sitting in a lonely flat. Jerro resented the fact that all I ever did was go to NA meeting. It was a nice thought to be living a life that was 'one long holiday', but in hindsight I was vulnerable and I needed meetings and friends, like birds need feathers.

At least in the meetings we were following the same song sheet. Feeding off each other with advice and support and ways of overcoming everyday, normal problems. But I was in a crowd of people that were away from problems for a few days at a time. I couldn't drown them with mine. I didn't fit in with them and I was screaming out loneliness in the masses. I needed NA!

The caravan was lovely, two bedrooms, and a light oak panelled kitchen. Although tiny it was perfectly fitted out and gas was rigged up for the cooker. We had a fridge/freezer too. The lounge was fitted with luxurious fabrics and curtains, it was similar to a two bed-roomed flat. It even had central heating. However, the noise from outside woke us up most nights. Jerro would joke,

'Don't come a knocking, when the caravan's rocking!'

'Ha, ha,' I would grunt.

The one thing I liked the most was, being tucked up in bed or on the sofa under a blanket when it rained. As the roof was being pelted by the rain, I would curl Hope and myself up, and it was all safe and fluffy. Nothing else in the world mattered. Even the northeast winds blowing off the Forth river, didn't worry me at all. The van would rattle a little, we would tremble, but we knew we were as secure as a tower block. Hope had lots of room to crawl around and grow. Although it was quite a way from town there were plenty of people to talk to and share a few minutes a day with, whilst Jerro was out at work.

I did miss Janice and my old life. I tried phoning her a few times but she didn't pick up. I was devastated. 'Maybe she had lost her phone, maybe she had a new number.' I told myself that, all that time. I had been so grateful for her love and acceptance over this past year or so. She had meant so much to me.

Tom was another story all together, he did not answer my calls either, he didn't even reply to my texts. After a few weeks in Scotland, it seemed as if the last chapter of my life had not existed. I had had to dump my most precious possessions, recovery and friends for a new life in bloody Scotland. I hadn't even done anything wrong. Thoughts of fleeing came into my mind all the time. But, I didn't know where to begin.

I discussed this with my new social worker, Alan. He was a funny looking chap. Officious and smart with a cheeky grin, just like Simon Cowell. 'Hmmm.' He would hum, cross his legs, put his elbow on his top knee and chew on his huge hand. He'd always say;

'Hmmmm, do you think that is a good idea Samantha? Hmmm.'

He began to irritate me. He didn't have a clue what I was going through _._ So, I just answered what he needed to hear and as long as I ticked his bureaucratic boxes, he was happy with that. Hope was crawling at six months, every second of her life was a new adventure for me. We would crawl together on the carpet and race each other. Living on site, we were allowed to use the play facilities, so we'd spend our days in the ball tank and cafe's. I would sit with other mums and chat about life, we'd grumble about partners and enjoy just being mums together. Hope loved the interaction with other babies, I think she was the prettiest one out of all the babies. She was so cute and chubby.

As the weather warmed and the caravan heated up, so did my frustration. I wanted more out of life. Alan mentioned that maybe, I should be thinking about getting myself a little job, or going to college or something. Maybe even doing some voluntary work around in the community. I never thought in a million years anyone would want me. After all, I was a working girl, who had no qualifications.

Alan didn't give up, he had grander ideas. He arranged for a day's childcare, once a week, so I could pursue a life for myself. He guided me through the adult education syllabus. I wasn't inspired. Looking through the local paper for jobs, I was not interested either. And anyhow, it would have been impossible to find one-day-a-week's work. However, I did look at training to be a Nail technician at Musselburgh College. That really excited me and by coincidence it was only one day a week. It fitted in with my restricted life.

Alan was eager for me to enrol. Later he told me that he had been congratulated by his boss for the positive steps which he was empowering me to take, over my future. (I didn't get any credit but he did, how does that work?) He shouldn't have told me that, but he did. But, I suppose his work researching and laying down the foundations had paid off and one day I did become 'very own person,' as he called it.

Jerro passed snide remarks all the time. 'Nails, who needs Nails?' But in front of Alan, he would play the doting partner and act as if he was 100% behind me. (He had more faces than the town hall clock!)

In September, a young girl, Sonya, came and sat with me and within moments, we had become the best of friends. I really liked her, she was a witty, funny girl, always laughing and telling stories. She reminded me of the girl I always wanted to be. She was young, free and single, no drugs, no pimps, just freedom. She showed me photos of her summer when she had been the Carnival Queen. She was so pretty, with her blonde bouffant hairstyle, high up top.

'A bonny wee lassie fa Cockenzie.' I called her, after having a go at mimicking the accent.

'That's terrible, Samantha.' We fell about laughing.

This Scottish lassie knew how to enjoy life. Even though there was an age difference of ten years between us, it didn't matter. Every day, we sat side by side like a couple of teenagers and would end up in fits of giggles.

Our training was intense and the homework and practising was very time consuming. I would never have believed in a million years that nails were so important to our health. That diagnoses for terminal illnesses can be found in our nails. That they are powerful seductresses in the name of love, and protect our bodies from some forms of diseases too. Obviously, manicuring was an art form that needed a lot of practise.

We learnt how to clean, scrub, scour, polish, paint, glue, stick, make acrylic, you name it - we could nail it. Training was a giggle and for the first time in my life I felt I was actually enjoying something and achieving something and I started to think that one day I may be successful. Jerro began to brag to the other holidaymakers, that I was a beauty student and next time they came on holiday he would have opened a shop for me and that I would do their manicures for them.

But, seriously, my aim was to get a mobile business going. Doing manicures for people in their own homes. I needed to pass and get a driving licence first. I'd have liked to specialise in weddings, parties and glamorous events. I felt optimism about the future. I'd play around at home with Hope's Nails, she didn't really like it at the beginning although Jerro did. He would speak nicely to me and ask for a hand job at the same time. Typical.

Life wasn't that bad. Winter blew in and we had to be off the site for two months as the site did not have a permanent licence. I couldn't believe that seven months had gone by as quick as it had. Hope was walking and surprise, surprise, I found myself being sick every morning and pregnant with Tia. Determined to stay near Port Seaton we rented a luxurious winter let flat - it was empty over the Christmas period \- until we could return to the van. We were better there, it was safe, secure and fun. Hope was tottering about and it was just easier all round.

Over Christmas, the huge cold flat in Edinburgh sent me into a state of depression. After the caravan, I hated the high ceilings and cold hallways. I didn't like being stuck up on the second floor. Hope didn't like it either. Everything seemed to be a struggle. Jerro had decided to go back his home town of Kano in Nigeria, to visit his mother and son for a week. We were home alone! But this was not my home. For the first time in my life, I saw real, thick, deep snow. The flat looked over Princes Street Gardens and the Castle, it was idyllic. That was until I needed to go shopping.

Snow either turns to slush or into an icy skating rink. Being trapped in a strange flat and being three months pregnant and having a toddler to entertain, was not much fun.

Just my luck, the snow had turned into ice on the pavement below its thick white covering. My stilettos wouldn't grip, so within seconds I was on my backside, in agony with a broken ankle and a pushchair and a crowd of people glaring at me. The ambulance crew gave me gas and air to shut me up. Hope and I were taken to the hospital on a blue light. On the X-ray bench, I watched as the break appeared before my drooping eyes. It was a huge break and I needed a pin put in to hold it back together. In tears, they explained that there was no other way of fixing this. As I was pregnant, I would have to have it done, under a local anaesthetic. Through my sobs, I knew this situation was going to get worse.

'When will you operate?' I asked.

'Today.'

'I can't today, who will look after Hope?' Panic rose in me. 'I need to make arrangements for Hope. Oh my God, my partner is in Nigeria.'

'Try and stay calm. Social Services will come and speak to you very shortly.' The nurse patted me on the forearm. Within an hour a different social worker came alongside, a middle-aged, round foster mother. She introduced me to Mrs Scobie.

'Dinny worry, hen, I'll love the bairn, as if she was my own. It's only for a couple of days. Dinny worry.' She patted my unbroken foot.

Unable to argue, I watched as Hope was made to wave to me, from over Mrs Scobie's shoulder.

'Be a good girl for Mummy.' I called out. Paralysed with fear, I was back there; watching - as another of my children was being taken away. Jerro was going to kill me. Then another thought. I was a reflection of my mother, lying there - useless!

When I woke from the sedation, I had a metal frame around my ankle and lower calf and my two stilettos sat waiting by my locker, to my right. Tears poured from my soul. Seconds seemed like hours. I needed to be out there with Hope, not stuck in this frame or bed. Panic took over. But, I could not move. I couldn't even get out of the bed. The pretty nurse put a glass of water on the side for me and told me that I had had my operation and the orthopaedic surgeon was really happy with the way it had gone. I had had a pain killing injection and would be getting another in a 'wee while.' I was to ring the bell if I needed any help and she reiterated that I had to stay as still as I could, to let my body recover from the operation and the anaesthetic.

'Has anyone informed Jerro?' I asked.

'Aye hen, he's on his way home, but will'ny get here till Thursday.' That was another three days.

'My baby! My baby!' I cried.

'Dinny worry, Samantha, she is with Mrs Scobie, she is one of the best. Now focus on getting better.' She smiled softly at me and passed me my handbag.

I thanked her then I phoned Sonya. The following day she came onto the ward with chocolate and a hip flask full of whisky.

On Thursday Jerro stomped onto the ward. He was furious. He had arrived in Glasgow on Thursday morning, had had to catch a train to Edinburgh in the ice and snow. Travel all around Edinburgh, go speak to Social Services, then get another taxi to come and collect me. He walked towards me.

'You stupid fucking cow.

'What goes on in that fucking head of yours? I had only been gone one day, one fucking day. My arse had barely landed on my Ma's fucking sofa and the fucking hospital phoned to say you've fallen off your fucking stilettos. I spent one hour with my son in a fucking year. Do you know that?'

He was right up to me in my face,

'And you fucking fall off your shoes and Hope ends up in a fucking care-home. Who the fuck are you? Well, I'll tell you. You're a fucking stupid imbecile. A demented, fucking imbecile!' I didn't say a word back. I was discharged and ready to go home.

As he pushed me in the wheelchair along the long corridors and towards the taxi he kept muttering under his breath. In the flat, and for days after, he poured out his scorn. Being on the second floor and being unable to hold my own weight on the crutches, it was like living in the TV programme, Total Wipe-out. He refused point blank to giving me any help.

Jet lag brought on even more rage and Hope's constant investigating into everything in the flat was not a good cocktail for a good first Christmas. There were no presents or lights, not even a Christmas tree!

Sonya came over and brought Hope a 'wee dolly.' She sat Hope on her knee.

'Her name is wee Isobel, from Port Seaton, but if you want, Hope, you can re-name her, when you can talk.' I chuckled. 'And this is for your mummy.' She pulled out a bottle of red wine.

'Och, aye the 'noo, ha a wee drink, hen and the world will be better.'

So, one drink led to another. Then another bottle and Sonya ended up sleeping on the squeaking leather sofa in the lounge of the flat. Somehow, I had landed in my bed and woke up desperately dry, wanting a drink.

Drunkenly hopping to the bathroom, I had to really concentrate as not to bang my leg in the dark or disturb Jerro. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror; hauntingly, it made me want to wretch. As I sloshed my mouth from the gold faucet, nausea hit me and I threw up all over the bathroom. The whole room was covered in wine, carrots and some other mushy slime.

I screamed for Jerro to come and help me, but he did not reply. I called out for Sonya, but she did not reply. In a blur, I found myself on the floor covered in sick, dragging my metal frame along the ground I made my way to the nearest room which was the lounge. The door swung open, squeaking slowly into the room, it must have disturbed what was happening. I searched the darkness for faces as the room began to go round and round. The leather sofa squealed and my eyes focused in. I rocked on my hands and saw Jerro was horizontal above Sonya's still body. He lifted up onto all fours and rose to see me crawling along the floor. Like a frustrated lion, he let out a roar. It filled the air, as he wrapped his black dressing gown around his naked body and on his knees he felt for the floor with his hands. Breathing heavily, he got up to stand and stomped past me as if I was a piece of dog shit.

Shivering and scared, I feared I had just walked into the biggest secret of my life.

*

Janice's story

The girls at the school gates were all gossiping behind her back, she could feel their whispers and snide remarks.

'Look at her in platforms and her perfect nails,' they'd bitch. 'It's not even 8.30. Have you seen how high her hair is? You, what? The kids have been in care!'

It wasn't fun, but being positive. Janice had fought bigger battles than those bitches on the gate. Janice was clean and that was all that mattered, and just for today - she was not going to pick up.

The mind numbing minutes and hours were long, when the children were in school. She filled her days by watching daytime TV until it was time to do the swift scoop of the kids at 3.15pm. From the outside, the picture she painted to the world was of a controlled doting mother. But she ached with loneliness, she couldn't escape the nagging voice in her mind that only drugs could soothe. The days on the streets had been busy, frantic, fun – ok, crazy. But never lonely. Some days she was really low. Alone and empty, she fantasised about using. Life used to be all about her, but not now. Every second was spent thinking about bloody kids. Resentment was beginning to build and she began to hate herself for not being able to control it. She wished she could talk to someone.

Her social worker knew there was something not quite right, she kept asking her. 'Janice, are you sure things are going OK?'

'Yes, but I didn't know it would be as hard as this. It's constant Jill. 24 hours a day.'

'Are you enjoying having the kids back?'

'I wish I could answer that with a Yes. Don't get me wrong; I am enjoying them. I'm enjoying them when they are lying in their beds, reading storybooks, sleeping, waving goodbye at the school gate. I'm enjoying their smiles and kisses and cuddles. I'm enjoying watching them playing together and swapping silly stories. I'm enjoying the fact that they are going to sleep in their own beds.'

'There's a 'but' coming!'

'But, but. I miss my old life. I miss the girls. I miss d-d-d-!' She stopped herself.

'I miss d-oing things just for me! It's like I don't exist, unless I am cooking, cleaning, picking up, wiping, scrubbing and washing.'

Jill nodded.

'Will it ever be easy?' Janice asked, holding her hands together as if she was praying.

'Janice, you sound just like every other mum I know. Come on now Girl. Give yourself a pat on the back. You couldn't have said that a few years ago. You have come so far. You've walked away from that lifestyle, away from drugs, dependency. You stand here clean and sober today.'

Janice had a smithereen of a shame-filled smile on her face.

'Now you are clean, independent you should be well proud of yourself. I hope you are proud of how far you have come?' Janice looked away from the floor and up to Jill. 'Janice, you're a mum who is trying really hard. Appreciation will come later.' Jill laughed. 'I think you are amazing.' Her words drifted off. This was too much for Janice to hear, she was still feeling too lost. Part of Jill's speech she understood, but how could she be amazing? Her words: 'proud - proud - proud'. Janice's inner voice was telling her different. _I wish I could just score, just the once._

The nagging scourge of addiction was in her head following her around every day. Her continual mental argument with the craving ghost was with her every second. 'Even though I want to, I don't have to.' She fought back.

'Oh, Janice, just the once won't do you any harm. It's not like you will get addicted again after one use up. Go on Janice, you will be ok!' This was wearing her out, the internal nagging was endless.

The kids were playing up, fighting and bitching with each other. Sniping over the tiniest little thing. Life was becoming unbearable, Janice became more fragile. The hours in front of the telly were draining her and making her feel even more miserable, but she knew, she had no other place to go. The house was a safe refuge from the thoughts in her mind forcing her to pick up again. The food in the cupboard was not hitting the spot. Her weight was ballooning. Her hair became tatty and unkempt. The voices at the gates became louder. The kids were becoming louder too. She was becoming louder, raging and obsessive about the tiniest little thing.

Social Services had given Janice a rusty old bike. She struggled with her heavy loads of shopping every week. She hated it. It made her look like the bag woman. A big fat bag woman, who lived on Smart Price beans and chips and fags. Ok, the odd bottle of cider too. _Something had to give and get her through the long days!_

Janice felt violated at the thought of not being able to contact Samantha. It had been nearly three months since she had left. Janice wished she had never opened the door that night to Jerro. She cursed herself for being so stupid and needy. The next time Jill visited, Janice offloaded all her loneliness onto her again.

'I need a life, I need something just for me.'

Jill listened patiently and understood Janice's isolated stance. When Janice asked for some extra money to buy a laptop, Jill point blank refused. She told her that the department could not fund such items.

'Not even a second-hand laptop?' Janice begged. Jill cheekily spoke with her boss and was given a distinct and resounding, 'No'.

However, Jill did do some independent research for Janice. She found a place to buy cheap second-hand laptops. Janice found the £50 to treat herself. From home, Janice now had a link to the outside world.

When the kids were home, they fought constantly over who could have a go next. However, once bedtime came, Janice could chat online and track and make new friends. Her loneliness was soon a thing of the past. She registered on Face book and joined a dating website. Hourly, she received emails from new men wanting to meet her. She started to feel good about herself and started to build a new identity too, one that didn't include drugs, kids and Social Services. The photograph she had put on her profile page did not quite match her bulbous figure, but it was a good starter to attract attention. She decided she would just chat up men and not meet them.

It was a great learning experience for her. Daily she built rapports with all sorts of men. Some old, some young. Some executives, some builders. Some horny, some melancholy. Some desperate to meet her and some she had a hankering to meet herself. It was fun, and filled in her time.

One day, Jill came over on the off chance.

'Hi Janice, can I come in? We need to have a chat about something that has been raised at school.'

Janice put down the lid of the laptop. She focused on Jill's every word.

'The school has concerns about the children's welfare. '

Janice sat horrified, bubbles of fear popped in her gut.

'The children have individually spoken to their teachers and have made a few strange comments.'

'Such **AS**?' Janice snapped.

'Mummy hits us, if we touch her computer. Mummy is always shouting at us. Mummy doesn't play with us anymore, she just wants us in our beds.'

'I told you Jill, I need my own life.'

'I know, Janice, but there are other concerns that I need to bring to your attention.'

'Yes?'

'We have become aware of a medical incident that you have not told us about. It happened around four months ago. You admitted yourself into the hospital with severe burns to your crotch.' She looked up from her paperwork, 'and you were four or five months pregnant at the time. Is this true?'

'The fucking bitch, the fucking bitch!' Janice spat.

_'_ The fucking bitch. Sorry, Jill the... bitch.' She seethed through clenched teeth. Janice walked out of the room, leaving Jill alone in the room, speechless. Muttering and pacing the back yard.

'How could that bitch have done this, and put me in this position? Now she is threatened my family. I could potentially lose my kids here. Oh, my God, I could lose my kids now. Every child goes around saying those things about their mums, but Samantha? Why? I know why! The fucking bitch, I need to explain this without grassing her up. Oh, my God.' Pacing the kitchen and back yard, Janice thought about the pros and cons and the outcome of this meeting. She decided. _It's her neck or mine!_

'Jill, all kids say stuff like that about their mums - huh?' Jill did not reply. 'Ok, I have to tell you something. I trust you and I like you, Jill, and I have to tell you this to save my own life and my kids.'

'One day, I popped round to Samantha's and she was in agony, Jerro had – well – Jerro had taken advantage of her and she had scrubbed herself raw with bleach and ended up in hospital with severe burns. Jill, you have to believe me,' she begged. 'I nursed her better, I got her help.' Janice could see Jill wanted to believe her, but knew she had to professionally assess what she was hearing.

'Jill, you have to believe me. You have to promise me. Promise me, Jill, that you will check with the hospital to clarify that IT WAS NOT ME! Her partner's Nigerian, an arrogant self-centred pig, someone will remember him.'

Jill listened, taking noted. She hoped Janice wasn't lying.

'Thank you, Janice, for trusting me with this. Before I go, I need to talk to you about another issue that has been raised at school.'

With another tug at her belly, Janice listened as Jill gave her a little talk about healthy eating. And that a cookery class about cooking on a low budget was being run by Social Services at the after school club and Jill invited Janice and the kids along.

'There's nothing to lose,' added Jill.

'Ok.'

For the first time since meeting Jill, she was glad to see the back of her. Furious with Samantha, she also knew that she would have probably done the same as Samantha, had she been in the same position. At least Jill had believed her.

Chapter Seven

Shivering, I started to come to, on the damp cold floor in Edinburgh. The room that last night had been going round and round, must have hypnotised me to sleep or something. I didn't have a clue what I was doing there. It was daylight so I must have been there all night. My body woke leadened with dread. The clock in the hallway boomed at me, as the events of the night before began filling my mind. I looked upwards to the right, and saw Sonya's rounded body breathing softly. My head pounded with pain. I wanted to run, to escape this day but I was trapped in this awful draughty flat with the memories I wished would go away.

I couldn't even get out of the flat to get some air, to clear my head, to make some sense out of what I had witnessed only hours before. I didn't even have a pair of shoes I could walk in. The madness of my life embroiled me. I started believing that maybe Jerro was right. I was an imbecile.

Something had happened between Jerro and Sonya last night and I didn't know what I was to do about it. I didn't know what to think or what to say. He didn't even have a look of shame; he just walked past me like I was a pile of dog shit on the street. I'd seen he was naked underneath under the robe as he pulled the belt around his girth. Sonya hadn't even stirred. He had helped himself. I went rigid, paralysed. I needed to get out and escape him but my ankle reminded me that I couldn't even get out of the flat. I could only wear one shoe, and I only had stilettos to wear. My world seemed to be ending because if he left me I would lose Hope and I couldn't stay with him and keep Hope too. As I lay crying my heart out on the rug. Sonya's Scottish accent broke into my thoughts.

'Hey, hey, what ya grievin' fa?' She drunkenly slurred as she wiped last night's sleepy grog from her lips. She tried to unstuck her eyelashes with her fists. 'Hey, dinny cry, Hen! Come here, sit, up here, get under the blanket.' I crawled along the floor, pulling my weighted body onto the sofa. My first impression was that she hadn't got a clue about what I saw. As her pink glittery nails stroked my hair I was crippled with guilt, thinking, _It should have been me comforting her not this way around._ She must have still been drunk. She didn't have a clue!

'What's the matter Sammy, why were you on the floor?' She began pulling at her own matted hair.

'I was sick last night. The room was spinning all over the place. I made it to the bathroom and I've been sick everywhere. I shouted for help but you and Jerro must have been fast asleep. I must have crawled in here and passed out in the doorway.' As Sonya hugged my smelly body tighter, Hope started crying in the other room.

Sonya said, 'Dinny worry, I will get her for you, stay under the blanket and I'll have a look in the bathroom too.' As she stood up her eyes squinted. 'What's my panties doing down there?' She pointed her toes and stepped back into them.

I sat with my arms crossed for what seemed ages as I listened to Sonya and Hope giggling away in the other room. My stomach threatened to repeat last night's sickness but I tried with all my might to stop myself. I needed time on my own. To process what was happening.

Janice's Christmas

Meanwhile in Stockport, Janice's Christmas wasn't much fun - either. She was tripping over her bottom lip badly. Everything seemed so exaggerated, especially the loneliness she was suffering. All around her, groups of people celebrated, chatted, arranged family gatherings and get-togethers and she was trapped in the same old routine, washing and scrubbing whilst the kids made more and more mess for her by the minute. The happy jingle of the Coca Cola lorry was doing her head in, she wanted to kill Mariah Carey. ' _All I want for Christmas is You, hou, hou!'_ It was alright for her. It just made Janice want to retch.

Social Services had given her lots of toys for Dwaine and Sasha, so at least the children had gifts. But there were no trips to the pantomime or the cinema. Money was tight. She ached with failure and isolation. She wasn't the only one too. As she was about to find out, online.

On the dating website, she was inundated with new men wanting to make contact with her, to chat, email or make a date. Every time she saw someone she kind of liked, she cringed inside. She had put a ten year old photograph on her profile and the only thing that was the same, was her nose. She was about four stone heavier now. She was not stupid, she knew the games people played online. It was just a meat market. The vast majority of men just wanted sex and she wasn't into that anymore. Everything has consequences.

Her years in recovery, had taught her that a relationship with herself was more important than a relationship with another person. But that didn't fill her up - like another person could. She had seen so many people dive into relationships too early, then relapse. A few of her friends, young friends, had died due to relationship failures after relapsing.

After the awful mistake with Jerro, Janice decided that she would only get involved with someone if her recovery was strong, she was still vulnerable. The brief sex with Jerro was a random, desperate act. She had just been a hole and a heartbeat. He - a cough in the night!

The thought of it revolted her, especially as she'd lost a good friendship because of it. She felt compassion and sorrow for her dear old friend. After all,

'Poor Samantha was stuck with him.' Janice hadn't realised she had said that out loud.

'Is Samantha coming for Christmas?' Dwaine and Sasha squealed and pulled at Janice's jumper. 'Mummy, is Samantha and Jerro coming for Christmas?'

'No, guys. Sorry, they've moved to Scotland. Maybe, when we watch the news and see the snow in Scotland, we might see them.' She tried to pacify the boys. Their bottom lips dropped. They had loved being around Samantha and baby Hope.

'They might be like snowmen and women in the coooold, cold snow!'

'Don't be daft, Mum!'

Whilst the kids were busy, Janice went on _Datingonline.com_. She looked in her inbox. Again, there was another message from that cute Pete, from Fleetwood. They had chatted a few times over the last few weeks. All these men had a story. Pete had been single for a year and this was his first Christmas alone too. He'd mentioned that his wife had been more interested in the girls and the horses than him. She had only wanted a wage packet and a man to satisfy her every whim. Sadly, Pete was that man. But he had wanted more. His kids were teenagers and he was looking to find his Mrs Right - not his Mrs right - right now! He had had enough of head games.

Janice would have loved to meet him, and promised herself that, in the New Year, she would lose weight and that he would be her goal. That's if he hadn't got bored and found someone else before then. He was a tall, greying -good looking man, maybe around 50yrs old and was so easy to talk too. He seemed really keen to come to Stockport and meet her. Janice relented, she had no other option. She told him the truth.

'Pete, I would love to meet you, but the thing is. I've put on a bit of weight since that picture was taken. It was ten years ago. I'm sorry.'

Two days of silence went by and however many times she checked her account, there was no email from Pete. It was crazy, but Janice felt a sense of grief. He was only a message in an email box, he might not have even been real. She tried desperately to see the bigger picture of her life. After all she hadn't even met him! But somehow, there was something about him that she had got attached too. Overwhelmed with sadness, thoughts of picking up were not far. She knew she had to find some gratitude, that was the only way to see light out of this tunnel. She began to retrace her journey over the past twelve months, soon she started to feel some gratitude for having the children home and safe, for being healthy and living a normal way of life, and for choosing not to pick up, even though she wanted to sometimes. She began to feel thankful for her life.

Biting the bullet, Janice dressed in her charity shop black cocktail dress. Eight year old Dwaine looked stunned as she walked into the room.

'Sexy Mamma!' He whistled.

'Oi, you cheeky little so-and-so!' They laughed. 'Come and take Mummy's photo?'

'Say Sexy!' Click....

Janice posted the photo on an email to Pete. She waited and waited, constantly checking her phone. Then three hours later, he emailed her back.

'Hi Janice, sorry for not being in touch. I lost my internet connection for a few days. Thank you for the beautiful photo. You have made a lonely man very happy this Christmas. Now, I'm even more desperate to meet you. Please, please, consider meeting me. I'm harmless, just a lonely old man sitting here after Christmas Day, a bit worn out like Santa:(. Call me, I wait with my phone in my hand. Kind Regards, Pete. 07985896187.'

Without thinking she pressed 'call 07985896187.' Janice tingled as she heard his warm friendly voice. She felt at peace with him straight away.

Pete was a loving, kind Gentleman. He adored Janice and the kids from day one. Obviously, he questioned the parentage of her multi racial children but Janice refused to discuss the past. The present and the future were of more importance. Pete agreed. He didn't want to rake over his past either.

Their first lovemaking session had been hot and frantic. However, Pete took control from that day forth, and taught Janice the beauty within her own body. Making love with Pete was the most sensual, beautiful experience of her life. His patient, kind, attentive manner aroused a depth of vulnerability in Janice she had never dreamt of sharing with another human being. He was a safe man to let down her guard too and embrace being a woman.

The children loved him; Jill the Social worker respected him. The bitches at the school gates stood with jealous faces as Janice flowed when collecting the kids from school. Everything seemed to be coming together.

Around April, Janice invited Pete to move in with her. Seductively, she licked up the sides of her thumb and smiling stared into his eyes.

'You know you want to!'

'Ok, Janice, how can I refuse? Let me devour you in our Den! Aaarrgghh.'

Chapter Eight

A frosty chill blew through the draughty flat in Edinburgh. I was worn out with Jerro's constant moaning. All the time he would be muttering to himself, whingeing about anything, however big or small. He was grating at my soul. What made matters worse was, he starting neglecting his personal hygiene. His reeked of B.O., his breath stank, it was pungent. He stopped shaving and said he was growing a beard. His hair was so dry, he looked like a scarecrow. The only time he said anything civil was to Hope. After he'd picked her up and hugged her, the poor baby smelt of B.O too. It was on her hair, her clothes. He disgusted me beyond belief. I tried to stop him getting close to her, but that just caused fights. I was becoming powerless in my own home. Every opportunity he got, he threw the past up in my face. That I was a fucking stupid hooker, that he had to come back from South Africa and now he was a prisoner in 'my' chaotic life. I began to think he believed that I had broken my ankle deliberately.

He was pathetic. He blamed me because he had to stay off work to look after his daughter and her mother.

'I can't leave you on your own, there's no knowing what you will do. Look at you, you're a fucking Waste of Life.' ( _And you are a great fucking example_ , I thought but wouldn't dare to say it out loud).

He thought he was a prisoner, well he should have looked at me!

I was an even bigger prisoner; I didn't even have a pair of shoes. He refused point blank to do anything for me. He trapped me in the flat with no shoes, he wouldn't even go to the shop and buy me a pair of slippers. I had no way of getting started to become independent. If I'd have known a dealer, I would have picked up the phone and been served a twenty bag - pronto. Fuck him!

The metal frame on my leg was heavy and cold. It caught onto everything. I tried to help with the housework, but everything took me ten times longer. But I was so huge with this thing on my leg and the crutches and the pain sometimes was unbearable. Not to mention the pregnancy.

That Christmas was the worst Christmas of my life, which I could remember. At least on the streets, we would have had a drink and a laugh together. I don't think I had laughed once. The co-codamol pain killers were good, they relieved me of some of the voices which were beginning to start up again in my head, calling at my sedentary mind. Flashbacks of Sonya, on the sofa, really concerned me. There had been no contact from her since that day. I had phoned and she hadn't picked up. The texts lay unanswered.

Returning to college in January seemed impossible. Moving back to Port Seaton seemed a million light years away. Living in that haunted horrible flat in Edinburgh was my prison, for the unforeseeable future. I needed help - never mind Jerro!

I pondered over whether Kez had some contacts in Edinburgh, I was desperate to score. But when I phoned him and a woman answered and told me he was dead. That stopped me in my tracks! He had been killed in a shoot-out just before Christmas.

The days spent on the sofa in the frame, swelling, began to get really frightening. Too much time on your hands leads to the Devil's work. From morning to night, flashbacks of Christopher being driven off, constantly flicked through my mind's eye. They were followed by images of baby Leon as the midwife took him away be detuned. His piercing cry squealed in my ears, over and over. I reached out to touch his blonde matted hair and he was tugged away from me. I wasn't good enough to hold my own baby. I got to stare at him for a brief second, then he was gone in the arms of a nurse in blue pyjamas. He was gone. Gone to foster carers. Gone out of my body and out of my life. My soul ached to smell him, to hold him, to see him. To touch his skin, to wipe his tears as he cried. But all this just reinforced that I wasn't good enough to be a Mum.

Looking in the mirror at my reflection I saw the state of who I had become. I was not fit to look after Hope either. I thought, _it won't be long till they come and take her away. Then this unborn one._ I knew it right down to the core of who I was. It was going to happen. I started thinking of ways to end it all.

Daily, death seemed an attractive option. But luckily, that option was taken away from me.

Alan called the first working day of the year.

'I need to have a chat with you Samantha. A serious chat.'

There was no 'Happy New Year, or How was your Christmas, hen?'

As soon as he sat down, he got his notepad out and began scribbling aggressively. I felt threatened. He did ask about the ankle, about whether Jerro was caring for us or not.

He didn't mess around when he had something on his mind.

'I need to know what happened in Salford at the burns unit, precisely.' I sank low into my chair. _He'd found out about the bleach incident. This would jeopardise Hope's wellbeing. This was not good news._

Even though I was terrified of the consequences, I had to be honest; there was nothing else I could do.

'There was a good reason.' I told him, I knew why I'd done it, but I had to make Alan realise that whatever I did, under no circumstances would I ever have put Hope in any danger.

I blurted out my reasons. 'I knew Social Services would take my baby, Alan, if anyone found out. I wouldn't have been allowed to keep Hope.' Both he and I knew this to be only too true. He sighed.

'It was never to harm this baby \- I swear.' I hugged my tummy. 'Jerro had - used me for sex.' I coughed looking ashamed. 'I had to get his semen out of me. I hated him that night.' I looked into his eyes, to see if he took the gravity of my words onboard.

'Samantha, from what I have seen, you're a good wee Mummy, so dinny lie about anything. Hope is not at risk. I know that. You can talk to us about anything. We will support you through it. Our priority, I reiterate, is Hope's wellbeing, not what goes on between you and Jerro.'

It was obvious that he wanted the best for me and Hope and wanted us to have a secure future together. I asked.

'Can I tell you something Alan? Can I trust you won't take Hope into care if I tell you something?' I looked into his absent eyes for a hint of judgement.

'Oh Alan, I'm so unhappy with Jerro.' The flood gates opened. The months of revulsion I'd had towards him, hit the back of my throat like acid. I began to blab out my whole story. Alan kept refilling my hand with tissues. My voice was high as I told him the whole story.

'Even though this is all going on, we do take really good care of Hope.' I put my feelings into words. 'I hate him, not Hope. I adore her, he just revolts me. I hate Jerro so much. Our relationship is awful. Oh Alan, he makes me feel ill.' I wrung out my hands.

'This has nothing to do with Hope.'

'Don't you understand? I can't stand to be with him but I have to because no one will trust me with Hope on my own.' He nodded in agreement.

'He's got me a prisoner here. If I could walk, I could get out. I don't even have a pair of flat shoes. He's got all the money, I have nothing to call my own, even to buy or order any shoes online. He won't let me.' I blub into the new tissue bundle in my hand. 'Alan, I was doing so well at college and I can't even go back next week. I can't get out.'

'Samantha, Samantha, it's OK, I'm going to help you. I'm going to help you! Hey, wee lassy. Lots of parents cannot stand looking at each other, but unless it's violent and interfering with the child's wellbeing we will-' nae interfere. My role here is to make sure you two are protecting Hope. And it's obviously you are. Clearly, I care about the way you two interact, but Hope is my priority. Thank you for telling me about this though. I did have an inkling that things between you two were a bit rocky.'

'You did, is it that obvious?'

He chewed his lip and nodded again, but this time through gritted teeth.

'Ok, first things first. Shoes, I am sure I can get some petty cash to get you a cheap pair. Size?'

'4'

'Colour?'

'Black.'

'Ok, I'm a man, Samantha, be warned!' We both giggled.

'Ok, college.' He chewed his pen. 'Let me make a phone call.' He left the flat for a moment.

'Ok, my priority is for Hope's wellbeing. If Mum's happy, she'll be happy. You are building an independent future for yourself. This makes you and me glad. This is good!

My boss has agreed that for an interim period, we at the department will fund a taxi for you to attend college from here. The arrangements for Hope are still the same. One day a week's childcare - funded by the department to give you respite and now, it seems, it will be respite for Hope to be away from you two.' He was so bloody honest.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. For once I felt blessed that I had him as my social worker. _Thank you Janice, for giving me the faith to believe that there are good ones_. I said out loud.

'Och' the 'noo!' Alan poured scorn on himself.

'Samantha, I have a wee gift that I should have given you when I first come in. Sorry.' He looked embarrassed.

He passed me a small brown envelope. My hands shook as I felt a piece of card inside the envelope. I searched Alan's face for clues. He focused on the envelope. As I peeked inside my heart skipped a beat. I could hardly see the image on the piece of white backed card as my eyes filled with love. I tried to take in the vision in my hands. I gasped, as I held this precious reward between my red fingernails. Not a sound was heard as my heart thanked God. It was him. It was Christopher. It was Christopher's photograph.

'Look at you, Look at you!'

'Look at you Christopher, look at you. My love.' When I looked up, Alan had gone.

*

Returning to college, with a frame on my leg and crutches under my arms and also being pregnant, was a massive physical effort. It had been nearly four weeks since I'd fallen in the ice and snow and I was feeling ecstatic at being able to leave the flat. Ok, the shoes Alan had brought me were flat, to say the least. But beggars couldn't be choosers. Anyway, no one took any notice of the shoes. The focus was on my gory metal frame, or 'stooky', as the Scots called it.

My stooky and I were delighted to be back learning and getting some head space. I waited all day long for Sonya to turn up but she never showed. At lunch I asked around, but none of the other girls had heard anything from her either. Everyone presumed she had quit the course. But my gut instinct confirmed what I already knew! The tutor said, that there was always a fall out in numbers, after the Christmas break. People get jobs, decide it's not the right thing for them, and many, many other reasons. But, I knew Sonya's reason; her absence confirmed my darkest thoughts.

That bastard had lost me my only friend. He had raped her. I was furious. Now, her dream of being a nail technician had gone too. I wanted to hurt the Nigerian bastard. The thought of going home to him terrified me. Not of being scared of him, but now, I was becoming scared of what I would do to him. _How long did partners put up with this shit!_ Just at that moment, I felt a rumbling in my womb and Tia gave her first kick.

This pregnancy was a lot easier than Hope's, there was no morning sickness, and not much tiredness. For once I was quite enjoying being pregnant. I had to mention it at college, and they were fine. It was a great ice breaker for making new friends. All the young girls were really excited and wanted to know every little detail. It was fun. I decided that this is how it should have always been. The girls and tutors and I respected each other. Alan had happily reassured me, no one in the college knew of my past.

Jerro returned to work at Microsoft and in the spring he managed to wangle the caravan again, at Port Seton. The frame came off my leg - just in time. As I got heavier, it was unbearable to be on crutches. In hindsight, I must have looked a sorry old sight.

Hope kept growing and was now chatting. We became more social at the caravan site and made lots of new temporary friends. Jerro and I barely communicated with each other in those days. He would poke me with his desire, whenever the mood took him. I never put up a fight. What was the point?

I passed my course in June and passed at distinction level. Jerro's response was, now you can put some money into the house. Tia was born late August and from then on, I became housebound again.

Not through illness or imprisonment, but this time it was through choice. I was happier being at home with the girls than trying to pursue a life outdoors. Having a toddler and a baby was excruciatingly hard work. Dressing them, working to a timescale, getting them in and out of the car, fighting over who wanted to sit in the buggy, having to carry one and push the other, finding toilets was a nightmare , it was too much for me to take them out. The only respite I got from them all was my driving lessons, and the following February when Hope was nearing two years old, I passed my driving test. I was over the moon. Soon I began to go freelance and started planning an escape route from Jerro.

At our local supermarket, there was a young blonde boy called Bruce. He would often offer me help. He had been watching me struggling for weeks with the pushchair and the shopping and approached me.

'Would you like a trolley, hen?'

'No, I'm fine, I don't like trolleys.'

I could feel him watching me again. I gathered my shopping into my arms then took it over to the checkout, left it there then went back for another load. He was still watching.

'Excuse me, why don't you use a trolley instead of carrying the shopping by hand. Look, I've brought you a trolley. It fits two bairns in it. Here, let me -,' he went to take Hope's hand.

'Get off her!' I screamed. 'You've been touching those trolleys.'

'They're no dirty,' he replied. 'I clean them every day. Let me help you hen?'

Angrily I replied, 'No, I can manage. Even if it took me twenty arm loads, I would never touch one of those polluted trolleys.' He backed away from me.

'Oh Mrs, you're going to squash all your shopping and ruin your lovely nails.'

'Look Bruce Dawson.' I'd read that off his badge. 'Leave me alone or I will report you.'

Again he moved backward, I could see by his face that I'd frightened him, I read his badge again. It was the same surname as Sonya's.

'Bruce Dawson, tell me. Do you have a sister?

'Aye.'

'Sonya, by any chance?' I asked smiling.

'Aye.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I've got a bit of OCD about hands and hygiene. My name's Samantha, I was at college with her. Will you give her my love and ask her to give me a ring please?' I bit my lip, I felt so awful.

He looked excited. 'I was right, I told Sonya! The wife with the shopping and the kids, had really beautiful nails, she said it might be you. Oh, wait till I tell her.' His impish grin, reminded me of the cover of Alice in Wonderland. I had been reading that, to Hope only the night before.

'Please Bruce, ask her to call me, I'd love to hear from her.'

*

Next time I went shopping, Bruce shunned my smile. I could feel his eyes watching me, but he never came over or asked me if I wanted help or smiled my way. This was another confirmation of the reason. Why? This was an awful situation.

Jerro must have raped her and she must know it. Or, she willingly had sex with him and I'm not allowed to know it! The only evidence that I had to cling on to was that she was shy or maybe feeling guilty the following morning that her knickers were on the floor. Maybe she had been a willing partner?

She had been ever so helpful that day. Maybe, she was feeling guilty? But, how could I ever get an honest answer? She was only a kid compared to him. He was twenty-seven years older than her! Surely, she couldn't have fancied him! But, no, that doesn't bear thinking about! He was dirty and smelly that night. No girl would ever be attracted to him. I decided, that he had raped her and she knew it. I wondered who else knew? This got me thinking that I should have been there protecting her, like a mother. The following days I became crucified with guilt and fear. I began to see my life with my mother from a different angle.

I'd always clung onto her with the mind of a child, with the hope that one day she would love and protect me. Now I was angry, because, I could see that as an adult she could have done more to protect me. This awful situation reminded me of the chaos of way back then.

Wherever we lived, Mum always used to bring men back to the house. It was normal to have a house full. They'd either sleep on the sofa, in her bed or sometimes in mine. Ludicrously, she led me to believe, that it was ok. I did not dare tell or speak out about anything that happened. Least of all to my mother. Never believing me if I had told her what the men did in front of me and to me. She lied to everyone - police, social workers, everybody, because she didn't want me taken away from her. I was an income, and I was a deterrent when they ordered her to go into rehab. The last thing she ever wanted to do was detox. It was painful. If she had to do that, when she came back I would get the blame and the punishment. It was that way around. She didn't worry that I might go into care for her misdemeanours, she just wanted her drugs, her oblivion. I remembered her lying around, smashed out of her face, turning tricks for her next fix.

She must have been so fucked out of her head. I would never ever do anything like that in front of Hope or Tia. But, if I had to, I would have do anything to keep my kids. If I have to run, I would. If I have to work again, I would. Even though today, I felt gratitude, part of me still craved drugs and excitement. I was beginning to get really sick of my new boring life.

Hopefully my nail round would pick up and that may never happen.

I'd now got a few nail customers in Port Seaton and daily my self esteem was building. I was beginning to like being me. Ok, I didn't like my relationship, but I knew what a blessing being a mother was. I loved being called Mum. I loved being with the girls, doing hair, playing dress-up. Even baby Tia got her nails manicured and got to dress up. Hope and I would giggle for hours. Jerro was good with the girls too. He had no worries about bathing them, dressing them, reading them stories or even getting them back to sleep in the middle of the night. He was in his element when he was with the girls. He adored them, it was a shame he didn't adore me, (but a girl like me can't expect flipping miracles). I was just beginning to feel at home in Scotland and just about coping with being a mum of two. When we got some unexpected news.

I was pregnant again. This was the worst possible thing that could have ever happened to us at that time. I just couldn't do it. I simply could not have another baby. It would have been so cruel to bring another child into the world at such a chaotic time. Jerro didn't have a clue what to say or do for the best. He left the decision entirely up to me. I wanted to terminate the pregnancy. I spoke with Alan and he talked through the various options available.

Jerro wanted me to go private and paid for the procedure to take place. It was a sad sombre day, as we dropped the girls off at childcare for the morning and both Jerro and I drove in silence into the city to remain a family of four and not five. The sun was kissing the backs of our jackets as we left them behind in the car and decided to toddle into the hospital without them. It was a lovely warm spring day as we held hands and clung onto each other for support. The receptionist smiled and told Jerro,

'We will look after her from here.'

'Thank you.' He replied with a tear in his eye. 'Thank you.'

After the day at the clinic, I struggled to recover from the operation. The bleeding would not stop. I bled profusely for weeks. I was sure it was God punishing me. My doctor told me it would soon stop. He prescribed me some contraceptive pills, however, that did not work and eventually after six weeks of horrendous clotting and bleeding, I had to go into the Infirmary for a further D&C. This stemmed the bleeding but by then, I was anaemic and weak. The girls were feeling neglected and acting up. Jerro was becoming more and more impatient as every day passed. I had lost over a stone in weight which was a lot for me, for now, I was weighing in at only seven stone. My bones were protruding through my jeans and my rack of ribs were poking through my t-shirts. I looked like a starved man. No breasts to indicate that I was even female. I was masculine and emancipated. Jerro kept reminding me, that I was skeletal and that he would never come near me like this.

'You're like a corpse, look at yourself in the mirror!' Along with the birds in the dark, I went silent and into a depression that winter. 'Who was he? What gave him the right to judge me so harshly?' In fury I wanted to spit out at him, that he liked corpses. He liked it when I lay like a corpse and he helped himself. He liked Sonya's corpse? But I had to keep my mouth shut. I had just murdered his child! I had to stop myself being as spiteful as him.

Once my anaemia had improved and I was feeling healthier, I struggled to put weight back on. I did look in the mirror and think; _I would have a spectacular figure if I had boobs._

I decided I would make it my mission to get implants, after all, he wasn't paying for sex anymore! One night I pranced around in front of Jerro with black stockings and suspenders as he brushed his teeth. He nearly dropped his toothbrush, he was so shocked and turned on. The following night, I wore a silky negligee, with silky dressing gown on top, with my stilettos and did a strip. For the next few days. I ran him baths, made him lunchboxes for work, had the children bathed and ready for bed when he came in, so I could work on him and give him all my attention. He loved it!

'Samantha, I don't know what's come over you, but I love the new Samantha!' (It was working.)

After a few weeks of acting the part, I told Jerro I'd had a dream. It began when we were on holiday, I had had breast implants, and in my bikini I looked amazing. Bronzed up, with high pert breasts, tight trim tummy and auburn hair. As I walked around the pool, every man in the area was watching me and looking to see where I was going. I walked over to you and slowly bent over your sun lounger and kissed the side of your cheek. I was yours and no one else's.

'Oh Jerro, you should have seen their envious faces? Jerro, every man wanted me, but you got to have me that night.'

Right on cue, he replied. 'Samantha, you haven't got any boobs.'

'I know Jerro, it was just a dream!' I shut up and went to sleep.

This goes to show how clever he is: within a couple of days, whilst I prepared a meal for the girls, he began caressing me in the kitchen.

'Hey, Samantha!'

'Uh, huh.'

'You know that dream you had, well I was thinking. If you wanted and really wanted. Please don't take this the wrong way!'

I dropped my eyebrows and eyed him suspiciously.

'If you ever wanted to have implants, I think I could, like, treat you!'

Bing Bong! Ding Ding! Men - willies - ego. Job done!

I gave him a dirty look and refused to talk about it. _Let's leave this one to stew whilst the shit saves up some money,_ I thought.

By late summer, we were starting to think about moving back into the flat for the winter months, when Jerro came home from work, looking quite glum. Hope jumped up at him, squealing, 'Daddy's home, Daddy's home!' He picked her up and held her tight. Tia came tottering up to him and he picked her up also for a squeeze.

'You alright, Jerro? What's the matter?' I asked.

'There's been a reshuffle in the office and I've been seconded back to the Manchester office - indefinitely. I have to start at the end of the month.'

Wow, that was a shocker!

The girls were all settled and I had a little business started, the caravan was our safe little haven and even Jerro and I were getting on well. It felt like we were actually becoming friends. Moving back to England was a change that none of us wanted. It was a minefield of temptation and bad memories for both of us. Spooning up against Jerro, I begged him, please don't make us live in the city again. He held me in his arms and said he didn't mind commuting and he would only find us somewhere to live away from my old lifestyle. He promised. If he couldn't, he said that he would pack in his job get a new one in Scotland. There was a chance that we could have stayed. But as usual, he left the decision up to me - the decision was all mine again.

Hours and days passed as I weighed up all the options. Living in the caravan in the middle of nowhere surrounded by happy people on holiday was a really safe place for me. There were no dealers, there was no past, there was euphoria all around us. The girls were entertained twenty four seven and life was a fantasy.

Moving back down South, was 'temptation hell' for me. I was nearly four years clean, and knew I could pick up at any given second - but daily I chose not to. However, that was easy to say when living like a cow in the fields, surrounded by vegetables. I wanted Jerro to decide for us. We had to be quick because we had to find somewhere to live either in Scotland or within commuting distance of Manchester.

Jerro had seen a lovely house to rent in Fleetwood. We looked on Google earth, and it looked a real home in a lovely location. Next to the sea and only a short ferry ride over to the Isle of Man. It was quite close to Manchester and really close to Blackpool. The girls would love it there. We started to feel it could be a real possibility for us. Jerro phoned the landlord and asked Mr James if the property was still available.

Cheek to jowl I listened over Jerro's shoulder.

'Yes, still free.' Jerro smiled at me. 'The rent, the deposit, no, we don't have any pets, just myself, partner and the two girls. Yes, yes... I work for Microsoft in Manchester.... Do you? Wow, small world! ... Wait whilst I tell her. He works at Microsoft.'

'... Oh, sorry about that. Yes, why not, what's your Skype address, ok, say 8pm, Thank you Mr James. I look forward to chatting to you tomorrow.'

We both jumped for joy, as we reckoned we had it in the bag, we high-fived each other, then the girls joined in too. We could be moving down South to begin the next chapter of our lives.

The Skype conference call went well, Mr James had videoed the house on his phone, so we had a cyber walk around the building and the garden. It looked lovely. The schools and corner shops were not far away and as Jerro and Pete James were colleagues, deposits, references and rent in advance were secured over the phone. Excited, we packed up our old wee lives in Bonny Scotland.
Chapter Nine

'Put me down.' I squealed. 'Jerro!'

'Carry ME, Daddy, carry me over the threshold,' Hope begged - with her arms up to Daddy. In her shadow, Tia jumped excitedly, she wanted to be carried in too. He lunged at the pair of them and swept them into his wide arms and gradually squeezed all three of us through the doorway into our own, 'first house'.

The perfectly manicured lawn and flower beds had welcomed us as we opened our new gate. Pete the landlord must have spent the weekend perfecting it for us.

'Let's call it Wonderland, Daddy, please, Daddy, Wonderland House.''

'Why not?'

Inside, there was a vase of carnations, all pink and purple. _Safe bet,_ I thought, they'd last for weeks. There was a box of chocolates and a note, wishing us well in our new home. As we toured the rooms, the girls fought over which bedroom they were going to have. Hope chose the big bedroom at the back of the house, it had lovely white and glittery wallpaper and Tia chose the loft room.

The stairs were the biggest and best game that the girls could have inherited. Never before had they had their own stairs to run wild on. Hope was fine, she always held onto the rail. But Tia, the little minx - decided she did not need a rail. Luckily, after a few slips, she learnt the hard way on how to hold on too. I spent the first few days watching with my heart in my mouth. I think I heard the neighbours bang on the wall but what did they expect! Jerro worked hard unloading the hired minivan and without one single tantrum, he willingly hopped over the girls, the dolls, the Lego collection and everything that had spilled, even the trail of sleeping bags that the girls used to slide down to the bottom of the stairs. As we spread our possessions and the few little bits of furniture around the three bed roomed bungalow, it started to resemble our home. The girls loved the bedroom that was built into the loft, but they were not allowed to sleep there until they were a lot older. Tia was not happy about this. For now, they were sharing a bedroom, to Hope's disappointment. As time went by, the sad lonely cave of the landlord's old divorced home turned into our warm, safe haven.

Pete was a middle-aged, divorced man, with a couple of grown up kids and had met some woman online and moved in with her. His face lit up every time he mentioned her, he said her children were multi-racial too.

Everything seemed idyllic in our first few weeks; we were a proper little family. Even though I found it hard to be a full partner to Jerro, I did try! Because, he was trying to respect me a little - I tried to respect him too. We had a chance at a new beginning.

Without being sarcastic and being really honest, the age old saying 'One day at a time' had saved my life on many occasions and was saving it now. Tom's and Janice's recovery were based on daily rituals and sayings. They flew off their tongues without thinking. This made me think about them, we were closer in mileage now, _maybe I should try to make contact again_. I never did find out why they had just 'moved on' without making some form of contact. They had been the best friends I had ever had!

After we had managed to settle in the house, I had to go around and register with the doctors, schools, dentist and playgroups. It was a time consuming job. I had my first meeting with my new social worker. Grace, glared at me over the rims of her glasses. Her square smile matched her officious tied back hair. _She must have been at least a hundred years old!_

'You have done really well, going out on your own and doing all those official duties without being instructed. Well done Samantha.' I would never have done this a few years back. I could see I'd grown up a bit. I gave myself a pat on the back.

We talked about Stockport, Scotland and my new life in Fleetwood. I asked if she knew Jill, my old social worker. She said she knew 'of her.' I begged her to find out news of Janice, but she said, she couldn't, that it would be a breach of Data Protection and confidentiality.

Once the girls had gone into school and childcare, I started to hand out business cards and advertised in the local shops and within days, I was receiving calls from prospective customers for manicures and pedicures. A couple of neighbours became customers, and life seemed to be working out really well.

Collette, the neighbour from over the road, asked me to do her nails. Whilst I buffed and filled her nails, she shared her whole life history. We had quite a few things in common. As a child, she had been in the care system too.

'Luckily,' she said, she had met her husband in her last children's home. She boasted that since the day they had met, they have been inseparable. I didn't really take to them as a couple. He was a dodgy character. There were always strange people and cars coming and going at their door, at all times of the day and night. I suspected he was dealing. So I kept my distance from him. Collette said he was just into a bit of this and that! But he made me feel uneasy. He always had sunglasses on his forehead and had a dirty glint in his eye.

Every time I walked past his driveway, he would be out there. Talking to someone, having hushed conversations. Pretending they were looking at cars or something. I knew they were up to no good. He would call me over,

'Alright Samantha, if you ever fancy a little ride - in me motor - give me the wink?'

I never acknowledged him. I knew Collette's type, she would be looking and listening out of her window, I'd seen the nets shuffle. It might have been nice if Jerro was listening, it would do him no harm to realise he had a bit of competition. But, he was hardly there those days, he had to travel for just over an hour before and after work, so it was long days for both of us, me especially, being alone with the girls. Then when he came home, I would be out doing nails three or four evenings per week.

I was doing everything. Driving the girls everywhere, doing all the shopping, cleaning the house, bathing, bloody everything. He never moved off his arse. My nightly glass of wine became two or three. I didn't care. There was this stupid advert on TV. It used to ask, 'Do you know your measures?'

Sure I knew mine, enough, to knock me out, away from that snoring pig next to me.

After the initial honeymoon period in Fleetwood. Jerro began to get really tired and I was knackered too. Soon life became a bit more fiery between us all. In the mornings, I would be trying to focus on getting myself and the girls ready, and he would have stonking tantrums, for no reason at all.

'Tia pulled my hair, Mummy, where's my woggle?' He'd join in. He couldn't find his keys, couldn't find his wallet, the girls were in his way or I had breathed, anything would set him off. There was nothing any of us could do to avoid him. We had to get ready too! The girls soon started to stay in their beds and wouldn't get up for school. This made matters worse. I began raging at them - then. What else was I to do? I had to get Hope into school, on time. It wasn't long before Hope was being told off for being late for school and letters started coming home in Hope's school bag. (Good job they didn't post them. No one ever answered the post in our house!)

Collette couldn't wait to put in her two pence worth. She said she could hear us half way down the street.

'Everyone can hear you two bawling at each other,' she'd say, beaming like the cat who'd got the cream.

I decided I wasn't going to believe her. But, just in case, every morning I made sure to close the windows before Jerro went off on one.

I didn't know if everyone got a bit flustered in the mornings or if it was just us. The tears and tantrums got worse after Collette's comments. Everything seemed to get louder and more aggressive. I started to hate her for interfering. Who was she, lording it over us? How dare she criticise us, when her 'Jack the lad' partner, was always hitting on me - whenever he felt like it. I decided to keep an eye on what she learnt about my family.

As soon as Hope started the infant's school, a routine began to take place in the home. Tia and I had been like ships in the night up until this point. Life had been so hectic and to be honest, she had always played with Hope and never asked for much attention off me. But as we began spending a lot of time together, one-on-one without Jerro and Hope, we started to become great little friends. This changed the whole family dynamics.

I soon started to realise just what a treasure she was. She had her own unique, personality. Since she began to walk she had always walked around sucking her thumb and dragging her flannelette comfort blanket around everywhere. But when we were alone, she'd leave it on one side and have no need for it. We spent our time together baking biscuits and making fairy cakes; her little thumb would be too busy stirring and mixing. It was so cute. She loved to do finger painting so we would spend hours doodling. I'd let her dress up in my clothes and I would take photos of us giggling then put them on Face book. She would play alone, lining up all her teddies and dolls on the sofa and she would make me sit alongside them. In her own little language she would tell each and every one of them what they had to do. Me too! She was so delightful. I hadn't really noticed her personality before this point. Neither had Hope, so when she came home from school and met the new 'top dog' of the house, all hell broke out.

She became bitter and jealous. I think this added to the reasons for her morning lie-ins. 'You don't dress up with me, Mummy or do make-up!' she would storm. And, she was right, it just didn't happen. I was tired by the time she came in from school and the only thing I wanted then was a glass of wine, not to start all over again.

With Tia marking her territory, the hair pulling and name calling started, there were fights over anything, television programmes, dolls, drinks, size of meals, who had the best bed, you name it. These two were at each other's throats, trying to be Queen Bee.

Even though I felt uncomfortable around Collette, I tried my hardest to keep our relationship purely professional. Then one day she asked.

'Do you think he really loves you, or just needs you?'

What a funny question I thought. 'I don't know. He says he loves me.' I knew I was lying, Jerro had never even thought it - never mind - said it.

'Do you think he would cheat on you, Samantha?'

'He's a bloke, what do you think? Do you think your fella would ever cheat on you, Collette?' I replied.

'Nah', he's all mouth!' ( _I wasn't too sure about that!)_

I tried my hardest not to gawp at her stupidity. I wanted to really put her down and tell her about the things he'd said to me. I thought, _I will bide my time,_ _it may come in useful later_.

Collette knew everyone at the school gates and introduced me to a couple of her friends/potential customers. This made me want to keep friendly with her. But the fourth time I did her nails, she didn't have the cash to hand to pay me. She made some lame excuse and promised to pop it through the letter box. It never arrived, I asked Jerro if he had ever seen an envelope, but he answered no. I asked the girls and they said the same. I never saw it either. By the following week, I wanted to ask her if she had posted it, but somehow I felt too scared to ask. Shyness came over me at the thought of being knocked, I couldn't believe how powerless I felt; after all, asking for money used to be my profession. But knocking on her door and the thought of 'him' answering it, gave me the shivers. About three weeks later, she still hadn't paid me. I guessed Jerro had found it and spent it. But he swore he had never seen any money, the girls said 'no' too.

At the school gates one day, I turned to wave to her, but she completely blanked me. Thinking I was seeing things and being over friendly, I approached her. She turned her back. I was confused. Whilst I stood stunned I questioned whether I had done something wrong to upset her, I noticed she was pointing at me. She was telling her friends something about me. I grabbed Tia's tiny cold fingers and dragged her away from their looks of scorn.

That night when she got in the car, Hope asked, 'Mummy, what's a postute?'

I wanted to drive round Collette's house and smash her bloody face in. So that was the game she was playing. Now she had involved my kids. By the time Jerro came home from work, I was ready to kill her. He poured me some wine and told me to go to bed, saying he would deal with her. I had a fitful night's sleep and in the morning, he made Hope and I promise that we were never, ever to talk to Collette or her daughter ever again. We had to shake hands on it. 'I've got it in hand.' He said, like he was my pimp.

From then on, Collette's clique of mothers shunned me in the street and around the school gates. But I would not bow my head to her.

Jerro backed me up 100%. 'Arseholes, fucking ignore them. What have we done wrong to any of them? Who are they anyhow?' He would huff. 'Who died and made them God. Samantha don't rent out any space in your head to them for free!' Even though we didn't see eye to eye, sometimes the mad Nigerian came up trumps.

He may be arrogant and self obsessed, but I soon started to think that maybe I had something to learn from this man, these days.

I started to question, had I landed lucky?

Chapter Ten _Jerro's story_

Look at me! 46 year old. Not bad looking. Father of two and living with a woman who thinks she is a sumptuous diva but in reality is fuelled by wine. What the fuck have I done to deserve this? When we met she was on the drugs, now it's the bloody drink. She thinks it relaxes her, it turns her into a sloppy cow. One, maybe two bloody bottles a day. Then she is as much use as a breeding mare.

I come home from work, she's there with her long legs and immaculate nails. The house is stinking of bleach, her hands are red raw from her obsessive cleaning. There's no smile. She'll be there wobbling with a glass of bloody wine tucked somewhere. Some days she will be brazen. 'Like an aperitif?' I could have knocked her out!

So guess who's paying for all this shit. We are all paying for it! She's useless around the house, makes cakes that resemble rock and the girls think they are brilliant and I have to eat them. She's got the girls at each other's throats, playing one off against the other. Her high drunken voice echo's in my head. In the mornings she says such hateful shit at me, like I'm some sort of woman/child hater. If I was, I wouldn't give her money every bloody week. She gets money off me for petrol, gym classes, ballet lessons. But I do make her go out and do nails, to buy her own fags and booze. She can go and fuck herself if she thinks I'm paying for them.

She is a wreck. It's funny watching her struggle in the mornings to get out of bed, she is useless. She's still drunk and cannot focus on anything. All hell breaks loose; she screams and yells at me for not helping her with the girls. _Dor! I have to go to work_. I haven't got time to help her and even if I did, she'd be the last person I would help. I need to be on the road. By the time I get around the corner, I am always screaming with frustration in the car, I growl at myself to let off a bit of steam.

Now she has got the bloody women at the school bitching about her. Wherever she goes, there is always bedlam. It's her own fault, she told that bloody Collette that she used to work on the streets. Now the whole school knows. But on the other hand, she is doing really well since I first met her. Nearly four years clean now. So I do feel a bit sorry for her lately as her self esteem has really had a battering. Maybe she will learn a lesson from this. It's so childish, this school playground stuff. You would think they were adults and had their own pasts and futures to worry about, never mind hers. What the fuck has our relationship got to do with any of them. Haven't they got lives?

After that her business has waned and so has her income. Even without money now, she still manages to drink. I'm a bit worried that she had got a bloody drink problem. If she hasn't got any wine, I leave her as long as I can, but sometimes, I end up giving her the money to buy it, it's the only thing that will stop her shaking. I'm always under the fear that she will do a runner again so I give in. I never thought I would say this but I think, in a weird kind of way, she's got me a hostage in her madness. No wonder I'm frustrated. I feel I am slowly being driven crazy. She's a bloody liability.

I did have a look online and it says women are only allowed twenty-one units of alcohol a week without doing damage to their liver. If she is drinking a bottle or two of wine a day, she will be on over thirty units a day. I reckon her liver is pickled. The only good thing is, at least she waits until the end of the day before she starts to drink. She doesn't wake up in the morning gasping for a drink, like a real wino, not yet anyhow!

The girls are fine. Grace, Samantha's new social worker is nice, strict, firm and fair. Doesn't come around much now which is good. It's awful having someone taking notes about us and living under their umbrella.

That Christmas, serves the stupid cow right, for going out in the snow in bloody high heels. I was blazing, I'd only just arrived in Kano when the bloody phone rang and I had to fly back to Scotland to rescue Hope. How I stopped myself strangling Samantha that Christmas was unreal.

But that Sonya, that Samantha was with at college, wow, she was a real go-er. Gagging for it, she was. Couldn't wait for Samantha to go to bed that night, I was straight in there! Caw, it was close! Just after Sonya and I had finished, Samantha drunkenly crawled along the floor into the lounge - she still had that stupid frame on her ankle. She's gobby when she wants to be and if she had something on her mind, it would have come out in one of her drunken spats! But she didn't say a word.

Last summer was sad as well, when Samantha had to get rid of the baby. She couldn't take another pregnancy. I supported her as best as I could.

She always blames me for not having any friends, everything is always my fault. She never goes out these days, unless it's school or the bloody Off Licence. So where is she ever going to make friends? I ask her. She does go shopping; at Asda. But I won't go with her as it is so embarrassing. She will not use a trolley, never mind touch one, she thinks everything is dirty. I think we all need bacteria, but she is getting even more obsessed that ever with touching stuff and being poisoned. All day long she is at the girls, to wash their hands. Sometimes it is nice when she's pissed and sleeping. Otherwise it's not worth the effort talking to her.

Her answer to everything is, 'I've always been like this.' Every time I say something to challenge her thinking and move her on in her life, she has got a bloody answer for it. A gobby bloody answer. Rar Rar Rar, like Pavlov has trained her to respond like a pit bull.

I once hid her bottle of wine and poured half of it away when she was not looking, My God, you should have heard the madness that came out of that tiny framed woman. I reckon she could be the front runner in a Maori war hake.

I shouldn't moan though, she's good with the kids, always watching TV and doing their hair and nails. Girls like that sort of stuff. At least it brings five minutes peace into the house.

Yes, this house in Fleetwood is nice, better than that rain rattling caravan. Come to think of it, it was like being on a permanent holiday there. It wasn't really real, but it was good whilst it lasted. Apart from the bloody winters, when we had to up sticks to Edinburgh. _Brrr, Drafty!_

I like it here in Fleetwood. Ok, it's a bit of a drive to work, but at least it gives me that extra couple of hours to myself and out of the house. Another plus is I don't have to face those bloody nosey neighbours. Typical! Now, everyone knows our bloody business! I just hope that Sam can keep her bloody drunken mouth to herself. She is gunning for that Collette.

Our landlord's a good job. I see him occasionally at work but he doesn't interfere. He hardly ever comes around the house so that's got Samantha thinking. She now wants to buy one of those Sphinx bloody bald cat. Say's she used to have one when she was little. I don't know, we might get kicked out, the rules are 'no pets.' She wants to breed kittens. The girls would love that, I'm sure!

My Ma used to breed cats when we were young. But I became allergic to them as a teenager.

*

After school, I took Hope and Tia with me to take a peek at some kittens. I had searched online and found a local breeder of Sphinx kittens. As soon as I walked through the door I knew I had arrived at my dream.

Carol - the cat breeder, had been breeding for fifteen years and was making a fortune from it. Her house was massive. Detached, five bedrooms, she had a cattery at the bottom of the garden. She must have had an acre of land. And she'd paid for that from breeding kittens. She did Shows as all her cats were pedigrees. Some of her kittens sold for £500 each. Each adult cat could have up to nine litters, sometimes up to six or seven kittens per pregnancy. There was a lot of money to be made, more than doing nails. I was sure I could work Jerro around to agree to lend me the money. This was a good business venture for me.

The adult cat did all the work; all I would need to do was to section off an area and make it into a cattery. Jerro and I could move into the loft space and we could use our old bedroom as a cattery. Our landlord never came around the house much, to check the property. Even if he did he would always phone in advance and give us a few days notice. We wouldn't get caught. Kittens don't smell anyway!

I arranged with Carol that we would have two kittens, a girl and a boy and we would collect them in six weeks. I swore the girls to secrecy. All I needed was £700 to pay for them. _Guess Jerro will be getting loads of sex and favours._

In our kitchen, Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver cookbooks hit the worktops. I had to woo him - big time! The cooking was ok, but the bloody shopping was a nightmare. Do you know how many laps I had to do of bloody Tesco for him? The girls would be screaming, Hope would beg me to be allowed to stay in the car. I couldn't leave her, she was only five. Tia, well, I would drag her on reins with my arms full of bloody shopping and lists. Round and round the supermarket, we would all traipse, like the bloody Pied Piper. The worst thing was, I'd never even heard of half the bloody ingredients.

To get me through sex, I pulled out a few tricks out of the old hooker's bag, to get it over as quickly as possible. The mid-forties, slim muscley man I'd met, had now disappeared, now he was a lethargic, fat and smelly thing. He had a gut and his unkempt afro made him look like a dark Doctor Who. I'd escape into 'The Zone', in my head. I would have loved to score to help me get through it, but that wasn't a reality anymore. However, I had to keep focused on my goal, and very soon, the six weeks had passed. When I asked him for the cash, he sprang another surprise on me.

'Well you're not getting both of them out of me. So make your mind up. One - or the other. Cats or Tits?'

I had to decide quickly. The cats only cost £650, the implants would be around £3,500 or thereabouts. I would never be able to make that kind of money in a million years. I laughed as I realised that Jerro must have been thinking about that dream and those implants since the summer. The last thing he ever wanted was to have cats. I had a thought. If I get the implants then in a while, I could easily wangle another £650 out of him. I would get everything; the implants, the cats and a ticket out of here. Ok, it may take a couple of years, but it was definitely achievable.

I looked in the mirror to see a sparkle in my own eyes. _My perfect new tits would match my perfect smile. A pink day,_ I thought.

I opted for the implants. From the decision in the kitchen to the airport to the operating table, it only took six weeks. Jerro was overjoyed at the thought of not getting cats. He had done some research on the computer and found out implants in the UK cost £3500, but in Prague, they cost only £1200. He ordered passports for us all, and booked flights and accommodation for the four of us, the only thing I had to do was sign the passport forms for the girls with his surname - Ibori. I was the only person without the same surname. I was still Samantha Baxter. This made me feel uncomfortable, but at the time I didn't know why. I was sure all the security guards at the airport were looking at me, like I didn't belong with them at the check-in. The girls had my features even though I was fair skinned and they were dark.

We flew to Prague and the girls so highly excited, could barely sit down. The air hostesses made such a fuss of them. They were given little planes to play with, sweets to suck, and smiles throughout the flight. Jerro seemed so stressed out. Fidgeting, moaning, giving me dirty looks. I found out he was scared of flying. I was too, but I just ordered a little bottle of wine. He scowled at me. Everyone else on the plane was having a drink so why shouldn't I? He was such a misery guts! Every time I went to talk to the air hostess he would be like a Sergeant Major leering at me. I couldn't wait to get off that darned plane. I was bricking myself about going under the knife and all he cared about was disciplining me. 'I told him, 'This was all for his pleasure!' God, he wound me up.

After the flight and the bustle on the luggage carousel, then the bus into the city, then the tram to the hotel, we were absolutely shattered. The girls had been whining for hours and we were all fractious. We were cold and hungry too. The hotel was not the best hotel in town, (I say this sarcastically), but it was close to the private hospital.

Jerro didn't let me out of his sight. The day of the operation, he packed us all up as if it were a family day out. I wanted to go into the hospital on my own. But he wouldn't have it. I was shaking like a banshee as the girls screamed their heads off, having to leave me behind. Everyone was looking at us. The madness was on me, I needed a fix or at least a drink, but then the nurses said that I was 'nil by mouth' until after the surgery. I was due to be operated on, in the afternoon and it was only eight am. I was rattling. The doctor came on his rounds, checked all my vital signs and the blood test results, they were ok. Before he left, he turned around and told me.

'Zis is no place to bring children.' I didn't dare ask for anything for the shakes then.

When I woke up from the anaesthetic, my mouth felt like the bottom of a hamster cage. My chest ached with the bandaging. There was a tube coming out of my ribcage and a bottle of grunge by the side of the bed. Everything felt tight and stiff. I must have looked mummified. Bedbound, I glared at the drips coming out of the backs of my hands. I remembered the last time, yanking them out and running away from the burns unit.

I had no make-up or nail varnish on, I must have looked a right sight. I needed a glass of wine to take the edge off it, but all the nurse gave me was water. They tried their hardest to talk in English though.

I was shaking like an autumn leaf when Jerro arrived the following day. I'd begged him to bring me a drink, but he didn't. He couldn't stay long, he said he had had to pay for one of the hotel staff to sit in with the girls whilst he came to the hospital to collect me. His first words hit hard.

'Hey Sam, remember the last time I collected you in the morning, this is a move up from the cells.' He thought he was funny?

I sat in silence clutching my sore chest and began to resent him more. Little did he know that this was my ticket - away from him? _You just wait._ The girls wanted to see my new boobies but like me they had to wait a few days. I was shattered and could not move out of the bed. Jerro and the girls didn't move out of the hotel room, they spent three days, watching Czech TV.

On day four, the doctor and nurse came and removed the bandages. I was dumbfounded, speechless. They were beautiful. Ok, a bit blue, bruised and sore, but my 34AA's had transformed into 34E's. They were amazing. Jerro stood glaring with pleasure all over his face. The girls squealed, I don't know if it was with delight or horror. The nurse reassured me that the bluey swelling would go down and within a few weeks the scars would be unseen. I buzzed like a vibrator with happiness. This was better than having new teeth.

Afterwards, every time I walked by a mirror I couldn't stop myself. I was staring at my profile. I was gorgeous. I'd put my make-up on and do my hair, and prance around. I was irresistible. Jerro said I looked like Katie Price. I could see by his face that he was really proud to be seen with me. A few months later, my new friend April told me that when Hope went back to school, she told everyone in her class that she had been on an aeroplane and went to Prague and mummy got new boobies. Thanks Hope!

But in a positive light, that was how I met April, and got the bestest friend in all the world. Aren't kids amazing?

After Prague, everything started to change at home. Jerro became more attentive. He started to care a bit more about himself. Showering daily and making sure his clothes were clean and ironed. He showed more interest in the girls and spoke quite kindly to me. My tits had given him a brain transplant, I thought. From time to time, he would curl into me and hug me. He would stare at me when I wasn't looking and even, sometimes, pay me compliments. I was beginning to like the new Jerro, but I didn't trust him.

He invited me out on our first date. He arranged babysitters and he took me out to a nice new restaurant that had great reviews in the press, for dinner. It was lovely. He allowed me to buy a new outfit and I'd found a silk, light blue evening gown. it had a low cleavage and it swirled around my curvaceous hips. When I saw myself in the mirror, I saw that I was no longer, 'A sexual.'

He'd bought me a silver diamante necklace and delicately wrapped it over my collarbone and kissed me on the nape of my neck, as he fastened the clasp. I shone in the mirror. I had never seen myself look like good. Jerro stared and stood up tall and gave me his arm. I couldn't help but notice that tubby cow Collette gawping out of her window as we got into the car. Jerro had a suit on and we looked like we were millionaires.

From outside, the restaurant looked warm and inviting. As the waiter opened the door for us, he took a step back when Jerro put me in front of him. Jerro announced, 'table for two. Ibori.' Indiscreetly, the waiter licked his lips. Jerro smiled with satisfaction.

I had made long ringlets in my hair, so as I turned towards the opposite direction one rolled and draped over my bare shoulder. I flicked it back flirtatiously. Jerro loved it. He pulled out a chair for me and made sure every man in the room was staring at him and his prize. I could not help but notice one of the two businessmen in the corner. I caught his eye and I was transfixed. Jerro didn't seem to notice - thank God - but the look the stranger sent back, had me shivering with excitement. My mind raced. _I've even got good looking guys like him looking at me, I must look hot!_

Between the starters and the main course arriving, I went outside for a cigarette. As I rustled around in my bottomless handbag, I tried to find my lighter, but before I knew it, a pair of shiny black brogues and the tall businessman from indoors stood pointing a lighter at me.

'Hi, may I help, I'm David.' He held out a gold lighter.

'I haven't been able to take my eyes off you,' he said, leaning in to light my cigarette. I blushed under my false eyelashes. Nervously he rambled on, he was a travelling salesman based in Birmingham, and was up North, for a few weeks doing business. As he chatted my groin bubbled with desire. He was gorgeous. My mind was everywhere, imagining him naked, ripping his clothes off, whatever he was saying, wasn't important. He was doing it for me! He leaned in again.

'Sammy, is it ok if I call you Sammy? What the fuck are you doing with that walrus?' I laughed back. 'I'd love to have a lady like you. What's he got that I haven't!' I couldn't stop blushing. I felt out of my depth. I decided I needed to finish my cigarette quick. He stood between me and the door. Then took out one of his business cards and popped it into my handbag. I returned to the table and a red faced Jerro.

'Where the fuck have you been, you've been gone ages!' I just smiled.

'For a fag. Don't ruin tonight, Jerro?' I warned.

He soon started to calm and began rabbiting on about work. I put a finger either side of my top lip and looked over at David. I was fixated. With our eyes we communicated desire for each other. I wanted him but I was stuck nodding and agreeing with Jerro and his boring conversation. He did look like a walrus. Jerro didn't even notice he was so engrossed in himself.

Although it was nice having more attention from Jerro. It was still Jerro! I tried, I tried - really hard - to like him and act as if we were the 'happy couple.' But now I was wanting to spread my wings. I longed for some tenderness. I longed for passion and orgasms. I was feeling hot and I wanted to show myself off, to someone who really appreciated it. I wanted someone I could share my tears and my laughter with. Anyone - anyone else, but him. I would have slept with a stranger rather than him.

Sex with Jerro was ugly. I felt like I was still a hooker with him. I needed a prince, I wanted to feel like a princess. I still had David's card in my bag and twiddled with it every day. I fantasised about what he would look like naked. I imagined being up close to him, rubbing my naked breasts against his firm torso. Being wanted. Being desired. The thought of it, sent my nerves on edge. Could I cheat on Jerro? I wanted to be needed. I wanted some love. I wanted to meet David. Why not? I was becoming obsessed. All I could think about was him and fucking him.

I tried to distract myself, cleaning, washing, walking, submerging myself in hours of television. Even trying to contact old friends on Face book. I had posted the photo of Jerro and me that evening and got 42 'likes' and lots of lovely comments. Amazingly, one of the likes was from Tom Baken from Stockport. I was overjoyed. Clicking on his profile, I could see he was still single and attending Salford University studying to be a Social Worker. I checked his Friends list and Janice was on it. Her status said in a relationship, but I couldn't access any photos of her or her kids. I sent Tom a 'Hi, remember me' and waited for a response. Sadly, none came.

When Jerro came home from work I was busting to tell him. But as always, his news was more important. Edinburgh were having IT problems and he had been asked to go up there for a few days to help sort their issues out. He had to leave that night. I stared at him like he was an elephant in the Co-op,

'Go, I will cope,' I replied despondently. 'I've got April to help if needs be.'

'They could send someone else Samantha?'

'Go!'

No sooner had his car turned the corner, my fingers were tapping in David's phone number.

'Hi - guess who?'

'Umm.'

'Samantha, we met at the restaurant last week.'

'Wow, Samantha, how is you? Wow.'

'Good, You?'

'Me too.'

'Would you like to meet for a coffee David, maybe tomorrow?' I asked nervously.

'How about a glass of wine tonight?' He replied.

'No, it will have to be during the day, whilst my girls are in school'

'Ok, I can be free around 1pm tomorrow, is that any good?'

'That will be amazing!'

I began kneading my breasts and groin and trembled with naughtiness. Overnight I planned my movements, I had to be careful, there was no way on this earth I could have ever put myself or the girls in danger. Arriving early I parked a few metres away in a supermarket car park and walked discreetly to his hotel.

David was waiting by the bar and without asking me, he had ordered me a large glass of Pinot Grigio Blush. As the liquid traced down my throat, my nerves began to calm. He moved in closer to me, our hands touched. He kissed me on either side of my cheeks, he smelt divine. He looked longingly into my eyes. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. As we made small talk, he took sly glances at my pert new breasts. You could have cut the air with a knife. I tingled with longing. I was so aroused.

'Do you want to take your drink somewhere private?' His eyes pointed to the lift.

I nodded.

We entered the lift. As the doors closed, he pulled me in towards him. His lips eagerly searched for mine, his whisky coated tongue entered my mouth. I took a step back to rebalance myself on the wall and he leaned into me with his hard penis and pressed it into my covered groin. He bent his knees and slid me higher up the wall so we could kiss at the same level.

Elevated to a higher status, our lips desperately sought each others. His tongue probed my mouth and I sucked at it hard. I wanted this man, all of him. He held me tight, my breasts pushed up against his chest. He rotated his groin into my body. I curled my legs around his waist and clung onto him for dear life as the elevator pinged. We had reached the third floor. He carried me out of the lift and towards his bedroom door. The chambermaid hid behind her trolley of cleaning products and blushed as she looked at us. His magnetic key card unlocked the door and it banged hard against the beige wall. He carried me over to the bed and gently placed me on top of the white duvet before covering me with deep tongue lashing kisses. His hands travelled all over my body, stopping and grasping at my breasts. I was tingling from head to toe. He gripped me firmly over my dress and bit lightly over my bra and nipples. My body was aching with desire. My crutch was wet and swelled with need. I yearned for more of him. I was desperate for him to take of my dress and touch my skin. I wanted to take it off myself, but his firm hands stopped me. I was beginning to squirm under his touch. He was a master, a professional. His hands travelled down to my knees and hem. I bent my knees up high to meet his roaming hand. His fingers slipped inside my dress and I glowed as he felt the gap between the top of my stocking and my panties. He pinged the elastic of the stocking.

'Stockings - delicious!' He returned to my breasts and started to knead them, they swelled in approval. My hands tried to feel parts of his body, but he was so overwhelmingly masterful, he pushed me away. I decided to surrender to his expertise.

His fingers pulled at the sides of my panties and rotated around my moist vulva. Not once did they enter me. I arched to receive him, but he stayed outside. His body levitated above me as he pulled my dress above my panty line.

'Wow, Sammy you're amazing!' His head moved down towards my tummy as his hands sought out my hips and he nuzzled at my panties. He pushed them to one side as his tongue found its way home. I was not expecting this and I squirmed with delight. My hands travelled to my breasts. (Blokes like that.) I was dying to get out of this dress and to strip him, but he was in charge. His tongue lashed at my clitoris and I responded by bucking my pelvis to meet his stroke. As he slipped his tongue from top to bottom I rocked and rocked. Throbbing and trembling, my legs began to quiver. He was warm, firm and hard. It was becoming unbearable to hold myself back. He crawled back onto all fours and began to remove his shirt and tie. I sat up on my elbows palpitating with lust as I watched him. I felt like a wild animal I needed to devour him. My hands reached for his buttons revealing a covering of dark hair on his suntanned pecks. He had an amazing six pack that I fingered him, down to his belt.

'You work out?' I asked, breathless. He nodded. He did not want to talk!

My nails mounted his belt. I became aware of his bulging manhood. I fumbled at his belt and buttons but he stopped me in my tracks and undid them himself. I was gagging to see him naked, to feel him inside me or in my mouth, to be naked alongside him. Teasing me, he slowly undressed himself. Standing erect at the end of the bed he shuffled from foot to foot, as his trousers rolled down to his feet. He crawled out of his socks before moving back towards me. I lay on the bed with my dress up and over my waist, with a black scanty g-string, black suspenders and stocking and stilettos. I revelled at his reveal. He was perfect. His sleek tanned arms and rib cage made me chew at my nails. I wanted him badly. My mind was in a frenzy. I felt saturated and needed to hold onto him and to be held by him, I needed to be pressed against him and fucked by him -Hard.

Every ounce of my being was pounding and crushing me, I needed more.

Waiting, waiting. Slowly, he crawled back onto the bed and lay against me, I arched into him but he held back. My mouth pulsated with longing. My crutch ached for his penis. He was teasing me and his sparkly eyes told me, he was loving it.

'I have dreamed about this Sammy?'

I laid there in silence. He was playing with me. I could have begged, _David just fuck me_ ' But I didn't. He moved towards me and kissed me gently, covering my face and neck with his gentle fingers. He lifted up my hair to one side, then he took in my scent.

'You are delectable - I want to kiss every part of your body. I want to taste you, to remember you.' I lay there pulsing. My hands went to undo the zip on the side of my dress. 'That is my job! I want to savour every millisecond of this!' Every part of my body was throbbing.

His hand travelled to my zip and slowly he pulled the zipper down. I needed to be dishevelled of this material, this was taking so long. I started to feel like I was going to cry with frustration. However, he never changed, he just took his time. As I returned his kisses, he repositioned my body to sitting. Then lifted my arms above me as he slowly pulled my dress over my head. My hands naturally clasped behind his head. He removed them and gently said

'I want to look at you. Get up so I can see?' I was dizzy with pounding sensations. He rolled onto his elbow and I righted myself to standing. I flicked my hair back over my shoulder and stood upright, he lay looking at me - entranced. It looked like I was bringing him so much pleasure. I felt beautiful but embarrassed. I realised he was savouring every ounce of me, like I was of him.

'You are stunning lady - come here!' He moved off the bed and came to stand up naked and close to me. Skin to skin, he peeled back my bra and held onto my breasts with his fingers and lips. He sucked wildly from one breast to the other. His roaming hands went over my back and tummy and fiddled with my panties. Again, he pulled them to one side, but this time he inserted his fingers, deep inside me. I stood up tall. I rocked onto his fingers. His pulsing erection was begging to be held. I rolled it between my fingers and stroked it up and down. 'Uum,' he moaned between kisses. He held me tighter and together we collapsed back onto the awaiting bed. Above me he pulled my panties to one side as he fed his pulsating penis inside me. The earth stopped moving as I felt his girth. I felt like I was in ecstasy. I moaned, he slowly pulled back, then re-inserted himself deeper, slowly, oh so slowly, I heard him groaning with pleasure. He began to pound me deeper and deeper. He was hard, Oh so hard. My legs shivered and tightened around him. I was so excited. He bore down on me as his hands reached for my breasts, pinching my nipples and pulling them out long. We were caught in the rhythm of our bodies moving. I responded to his thrust, bending to meet him. Sweat built up between our bodies. My hands searched every inch of him, finally resting and clenching on his pert bottom. _Oh, he felt so good,_ _This was so, oh so good!_ I wanted more of him, I bucked higher to get him to go deeper inside me. We clung to each other as my body swelled from the inside, gripping his cock deep within me, thundering up, boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom. Then we both exploded into the same incredible orgasm. Our bodies shuddered in ecstasy. Clinging to each other, as we became one.

The following afternoon, I wriggled under David's perfected physique all over again. Then the next, then the next, then the next.

Nearly three weeks of rampant, hot sex consumed my afternoons. I felt like a new woman. It was amazing to be so into someone and have it given back. I felt feminine and powerful, free to be swallowing him whole, whenever I desired. He was my phone a fuck, instead of the other way around. I became drunk on passion and April's house looked like a flower shop, with the amount I bought in Aldi for her. But like all good things, they all come to an end.

Jerro came back and I had to say goodbye to my David. I didn't know who to thank the most - David, Microsoft, Jerro or God!

When Jerro returned he was fuming, he had believed he would have been away for only a few days, not weeks. He had missed the girls and me terribly, he said. But for me, everything seemed like an act. I had to sleep with him nearly every night when he came back and it revolted me. It was twice as bad as it was before. I dreaded being around him. Everything he did and said grated on me. I was back scrubbing at my privates like there was no tomorrow. I tried but I couldn't wash him off of me, he made my skin crawl. His breath turned my stomach and even his voice repelled me. Every nerve in my body stood on end when he entered the room. He wanted sex more, and I did not.

I wanted to make love to David - in a four poster bed - tenderly. I tried to refuse Jerro, to put him off night after night. But he began to get increasingly frustrated. The tension in the house became unbearable. The shouting in the mornings was picked up again in the evenings. He swore he would not tolerate me turning my back on him. 'That was my job!' he yelled at me one day. In his defence, I could understand his confusion, as before he had gone to Scotland, we were getting on quite well. I had no right to do what I was doing but I just couldn't bring myself to stop doing it.

I knew I was his partner, bought and paid for. Standing in the bedroom one evening, with his hands on his hips, he didn't care who heard him. He started up an argument.

'You're a fucking hooker, remember, this is what you do! Don't you of all people try this grandiose shit on me! Remember. You Owe Me! Kids, teeth and tits, now do what you're here for!' He pulled out his penis.

I did not want him near me. I screamed at him and told him that he was like a disgusting old pimp and that he was just a man who slept with prostitutes.

'You buy love, you filthy bastard! No one in their right mind would ever want you. LOOK AT YOU.' He grabbed hold of my wrists and slapped me around the mouth.

'Shut your fucking ugly gob, don't say one more fucking word!' he threatened. 'If you wake the kids up, I am going to fucking kill you.' The evil look of lust bore into my soul. Roughly he pulled my tiny body into him, he turned me around like a coil so my back was next to his fat gut. He bent me over the bed, my senses were bewildered and then he rammed himself deep inside me. His hand clasped at my mouth as I started to scream. With my head pushed backwards he thumped into my cunt like he was fucking a fig. I could feel myself tearing inside. The pain was excruciating, tears soaked into the mattress. It didn't take long for him to ejaculate and slam me face first into the bed. But the noise must have woken the girls and Hope was already watching us in the room. Her shaky high voice asked.

'Daddy, what are you doing to Mummy? You're hurting her.'

'Back to bed!' he yelled. Hope began crying.

'Mummy?'

'Bed, before I chase you.' He yelped. She fled out of the room. I could hear her gulping back tears as I crawled to the bathroom, but I couldn't help her. Blood was pouring from my innards. I had soaring pains ripping right through my pelvic floor. I needed to soothe them. He was all quiet in the bedroom so as I sat on the sink and flushed loads of water up at my private bits. Memories of the last time he had raped me flooded my mind. I began to feel faint and weak. I must have passed out. I woke up with a pounding head and I couldn't see out of my right eye. Lying in a puddle of piss, I came to. I got up to standing and looked in the mirror. My face looked like a football, I must have hit the side of the bath as I'd fallen. Slowly I made my way back into the bedroom. He was snoring. But in the morning, when he saw my black and blue face, Jerro had a tear drop from his eye. His guilt and shame was obvious. I couldn't talk to him. I walked past him and closed the door and wouldn't come out of the bedroom. I couldn't take the girls to school for over a week. The silence that followed over the next few weeks was worse than the shouting.

One day David texted me. I was desperate to reply but I couldn't. What was the point, I couldn't get out or meet him, not to mention make love with him. He threatened to come and find me if I didn't reply. He said he was deeply worried about me. From nowhere I got the courage and texted back.

'Look David, lovely as it was, it was just a brief affair, and that was that!' I never heard from him again.

A week after the 'accident,' as we now call it, a brown envelope came through the post, then the following day another two envelopes - with the same franking stamp on them. They made a pile on the shelf. The next day three more brown envelopes arrived, all addressed to Jerro. He never opened his mail. One day, I used one of the envelopes for a shopping list and went to Tesco to get the weekly shop. Tia and Hope were asleep in their car seats in the back of the car and a tiny bit of red flashed up at me through the window of the envelope. As it was never going to be opened at home, I thought, I'd have a look.

Inside, it was from a parking enforcement agency - 'Minx'. They wanted £75 for an overstay at Aldi's car park, dated whilst Jerro was in Edinburgh. My hands shook as I read the fixed penalty notice. The rules of the car park were, 'that it was free for the first ninety minutes and users would be fined for overstaying the ninety minutes limit.' If required, Minx would send photographs of the vehicle. My heart felt like it was going through a grinder.

Reliving the past few weeks I tried to count the amount of times I had parked in Aldi, whilst I had been in David's hotel. Then like a ton of bricks I counted about fifteen. With the girls still asleep, I drove back home and there was a new pile of unopened letters on the mat. I was doomed.

Inside the letters, my innermost fears were confirmed. There were nine fixed penalty notices. _That is today, what if more come tomorrow, I had parked there more than seven times?_ I was right - more came the next day and the next. I was right, fifteen in total. Then the reminders started piling up through the door. Every minute I agonised over what to do. Then one day Jerro opened one that I had missed.

'Sam do you know anything about this? It says - I over-used Aldi car park and I have to pay £75. It says this is the second reminder. I don't even know where Aldi is. Do you know about this?' I shivered from the other side of the room. 'Come here, take a look?' The look on my face must have said it all. 'Out with it!' he demanded.

I tried to cry. He was raging, no tears would come, he began shaking me. 'What the fuck have you done now, there is more to this than meets the eye. What the fuck have you been up too?'

On the spot I lied over the front of my pearly white bridge.

'When you were away, I couldn't cope with the girls and I just found myself crying. I did go shopping, Jerro, I went shopping in Aldi, people leave you alone there. Sometimes I did wait for the clock to reach school home-time, then I would go off and get Tia and Hope from school. I didn't see any signs. Honest Jerro, I didn't see any signs!'

'So is there more? '

I curled up tight, crossing my arms tightly around my spine. 'I think there is about 10. I opened them but was too frightened to tell you.' I fell to my knees. 'Please, Jerro, somehow I will pay for them, I don't know how, but it was a genuine mistake.' He walked past my depleted body, and pushed my shoulder so hard I keeled over and landed face down on the floor. I didn't even have time to put my hands out to save myself.

The following day, after work, he came home bright and giggly. 'You alright?' I asked

'Never better!' He explained that he had done some research on parking legislation and because the car was registered in his name, they had to fine the owner of the vehicle. He thumped his chest. 'Let them come after me - I was in Scotland? I will phone them tomorrow.'

The following evening, he wasn't showing as much bravado.

'They say they have photographs of me and you in their cameras and they are going to send me copies.'

'That's impossible Jerro,' Red faced I uttered.

My mind froze. Obviously, it was me and David in the photos. Thankfully. The next day we had no post, the next day we did!

When the photos arrived, it was clear as night is day; that the man with his large white hands caressing my face was not Jerro. My brain went on overdrive. I wanted to run, to use, to just get the hell out of there. What the fuck was I going to do? I took the photos outside and burnt them. I had no one I could talk to. Could I tell April? No - What was I going to do?'

I was on the verge of losing everything.

Ok, I had teeth and tits, but he was going to kick me out this time for sure. I found a bottle of wine and glugged the lot. The next day, I bought another and the next. Every time another letter came in the post I burnt it.

Jerro didn't say anything about the tickets, he was still waiting for them to arrive, however he did not stop going on about me drinking. (As if he had any worries!)

I had to do everything, get the girls ready, take them to school, do all the shopping and cooking, collect them, tidy the house and be his primate. It made me sick! I didn't want him anywhere near me. David's touch had ruined me for life.

My body ached for David - his lips - his arms. I was now more alone, than I'd ever been. For once \- Jerro was right - I began to start seeing it from his eyes. He was right, I did make chaos wherever I went.

Our fifth Christmas together was approaching. Jerro was determined to go home for Christmas, to see his mother and son, Ade. He wanted all four of us to go, but there was no way on this earth that I was going to fly with him and the girls for eight hours on a plane.

'No way, José‎!' I told him. Not after last time.

'You want to go. Jerro, you take the girls on your own. Prague was bad enough.'

I don't think he even cared. He went ahead and booked three flights to Nigeria and told me to shop for some nice clothes for the girls. The day they left I sobbed as the girls clung onto me in the doorway. 'It's only for two weeks,' I told them, 'you will love your big brother and your Grandma. They can't wait to meet you? Be good for Daddy on the plane.' He left, stressed - but focused.

I sighed, 'Two weeks of peace.'

At 7.15am, someone was banging at the door. I thought they had forgotten something and I opened the door, still in my nightie. Two burly bailiffs stood with their foot in my doorway. The bigger one was holding out a repossession warrant.

'You Mrs Ibori?' He thrust a brown envelope at me.

'I -I -I.'

'Take this.' He placed the envelope just above my hand so I would grab it as he let it fall through his fingers. 'It is an order to claim goods to the value of £1500.00, should you not pay the fine upfront.' His stern hard face disempowered me. Normally I would have told him to fuck off, but I was frightened. I told them that I had no money, that my partner had just gone away for ten days and that they would have to come back in ten days time. I tried to smile bravely. They did not move.

I took the possession order from the big one without the wedding ring and asked quietly, if he would kindly take his foot out of my doorway, and please excuse me whilst I read it in private. Collette, the bitch was glaring out of her window. I went back indoors. With my back against the main door, I prayed for a heavenly intervention.

I couldn't phone Jerro, he would miss his flight and this time he would kill me for sure. What the fuck was I to do? I read and re-read the repossession notice over and over again. For the following two days I was paralysed with fear . Then on day three; they were back.

With the chain lock on, I slowly opened the door. NoRing, not the one with the wedding ring, asked,

'You read the notice love?' I nodded back. 'You got the money?' I shook my head.

'We need to come in and talk to you.'

'I'm not dressed - talk to me through the door or give me a minute to get dressed.'

'We'll wait in the car.' I bolted up the stairs and had to work out what I was going to do next.

Ok. Use the oldest trick in the book.

Swapping my nightie for a negligee, I crawled around under the bed for my high heeled fluffy pink slippers. ( _Cor, they had seen better days!)_ I ruffled my hair, bronzed my cleavage, and stepped down the stairs in my high slippers and leopard patterned negligee. I opened the door and invited the men in.

In my poshest Cheshire accent, I apologised profusely for the inconvenience I had caused them, and promised then faithfully that I would speak to my partner and arrange for a payment ASAP. Somehow, they both appeared gentler. The one with a wedding ring stood behind NoRing. Big and burly NoRing stood rigid with his polished bald head. He must have been about fifty years old, immaculately shaved and suited up. He knew he looked dark and menacing in his black and white uniform. With his strong muscular body packed tightly inside his suit. He was scary! He looked unbreakable but I had figured him out, and had worked my way into his mind. I flirted outrageously with him. The other guy twiddled with his wedding ring and went back to the car. _(At least I didn't have to do the two of them.)_

NoRing informed me that I had only days to pay up before the date of the court hearing. They were intending on taking Jerro to court in January.

My innards shook. I didn't know how I was going to get out of this one. I didn't want to tell him. Not just yet. If he knew he would go ballistic, especially if he had to come back from Nigeria again. NoRing had given me his card and told me I had to call him very soon, 'personally', to confirm that Jerro would be paying. I knew I had at least eight days to produce the £1500.00, before I had to tell Jerro.

That evening, after our Skype conversation, I drank a whole bottle of wine and forgot about everything. In my drunken stupor I spent the night searching every nook and cranny in the house for money, for secret stashes, for anything of any value, that I could add together to make some money.

I was really surprised to find lots of bookie slips in Jerro's suit pockets. I didn't know he liked a bet! He had kept that quiet!

Inside one of his drawers was a selection of lottery scratch cards, some of which I could see had unclaimed prizes on them. There were a few that had not been scratched off. I also came across an American Express credit card, complete with a letter unopened, which had the pin number on it. I found another envelope with Santander on it. It contained a Santander credit card which had not even been opened. A blank envelope gave me the pin number.

If the worst came to the worst, I thought, I could draw money out of the machine on those two beauties. That would buy me another month at least. Paralytic drunk, that night I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

On waking, the following day the house looked like I'd been burgled. It took me time to remember my movements from the night before. My head was thudding. I couldn't put two and two together. I gasped for water as my dehydrated body found its way into the bathroom. Dipping my head under the tap I glugged at the pure clear liquid, but had to spit it out, once I realised what I was doing. Was I going mad? In the lounge later I came across the scratch cards, and then memories of the evening before came flooding back to me. There was a bit of hope! Maybe today would be a good day.

The postman had been so I was guessing that maybe it was around lunchtime. I was wrong, it was nearly 2pm. Picking up another brown envelope off the mat, I struggled to unseal it. Inside was a card with a picture of Christopher.

I collapsed to my knees. And cuddled my baby boy's photograph.

We gazed at each other for a long, long time. He was so perfect, so happy and healthy in his t-shirt and summer shorts. There were no clues as to his whereabouts, but I guessed this photo had been taken a few months before on a foreign summer holiday. This was the best Christmas present I could have ever had. He was so tall and dark. He looked well and cared for. I couldn't wait to show him to his little sisters tonight, I told him. I tucked his photo into my purse and promised myself I would get it enlarged later. But first, I needed to try and get a grip on this money situation. I began at the cashpoint. Shaking, I tried the cards; I took £10 out on each one. They worked. Both of them. They both said that they had a £300 credit limit on them. I withdrew the lot. Jackpot!

I took the pile of scratch cards to the local shop and in total I received £187.00 in prize money. Two of the cards I was informed, had to be paid out at the post office, as they were over the shops pay out limit of £50. In the post office I fidgeted as I waited in the longest queue in the world. Eventually, I reached the window and was informed that there was £300 between the two tickets to collect.

'Would you like the cash or would you like a cheque, Miss?' The postmaster asked. I opted for the cash, so with £787 in my bag I now had £1087. Like a rocket I stealthed my way home in my stilettos with my loot.

I had nearly enough money. All I needed now was another £500. I decided to phone NoRing and make him and offer. After two rings he picked up the phone.

'Yeh!'

'It's Samantha from Fleetwood.'

'Yeh.'

'You told me to ring you '

'Yeh.'

'I can get you £1000 by tonight. Cash. Will you say Yes!'

'Will talk to the boss!'

Then the phone went dead. A few minutes later, he rang back and said he would be around at 9pm. It had to be cash and I had to be alone, otherwise it would be the full £1500 in court next week. _Job done!_

That evening his black Audi pulled up outside our front door. NoRing was on his own, he tapped at the lounge window. He had a smile that would have melted butter. I opened the front door.

'May I come in?' I ushered him in with my hand. I had the money stashed in an envelope on the hallway table.

'You have the cash?'

I nodded. He stood between me and the glass front door.

'Show me. .................Ok...............Count it out...................'

'So where did you get it from?'

'None of your business.' I replied.

'You been working?'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'Little bird told me you go by the name of Roxy?' .

'I do not know what you mean, Sir.'

'Right!' He smirked

I had no choice. He had seen right through my mushy housewife act, I closed my eyes and turned back into Roxy.

'Right, we agreed £1000 cash today, then the other £500 would be written off - Agreed?'

'Agreed.' He leaned against the table. 'I'll sign this in a minute. I need a favour first!'

He started to undo his flies and moved gently towards me. The receipt book lay open, unsigned. I stared at the book, furious but transformed. As he took his penis out from under his flies I sank to my knees.

Within a couple of minutes the receipt book was signed and a happy NoRing left. I stood with my back towards the cool glass, relieved, realising that it hadn't been that bad. To be honest, he was a lot more attractive than Jerro, at least he was clean and smelled nice, and he had really enjoyed it. We both got what we wanted. As he climbed into the Audi he didn't look back.

My third finger shot into the air.

I celebrated with a bottle of red from the money I had left over. _Arseholes to Jerro, this is my Christmas too!_ He was away for another few nights and I was a free agent.

I hadn't been night clubbing for years. Living in Fleetwood in the middle of nowhere was the pits for partying, but in Blackpool, I knew it would be rocking. I had a plan, take the laptop, he will never know anything. I checked myself into a hotel for a couple of nights, then after my 6pm Skype call, it was time to party!

On Skype, the girls looked sad, they were desperate to come home. They moaned that it was too hot for them and they were getting bored. They were fed up being around Grandma all the time. Daddy was always with Aden and Ade, they told me.

'Who's Ade?'

'He lives at the bottom of the garden.'

'Oh, that's nice. Are you excited about coming home, Hope?'

'Yes Mummy, I miss you!'

'I miss you two, love. Only four more sleeps to go? Then you can come home and we can have a big cuddle.' She carried on crying. I tried to appease the conversation, but the girls were too miserable. My heart reached out to them. Then I froze on the spot as I watched Tia grab Hope's mouth and she pulled her face away from the camera.

'Stop that, you girls!' screamed the big burly Grandma as she stood framing the back of their heads.

'Daddy says we are going to school in Nigeria.' Hope said.

'That's not right!' the Grandma screamed in the background. The girls were wrestling and pushing at each other, to see themselves in the webcam. I stared blankly at the screen.

'That's not true - they need to go to bed now!' was all I heard and the screen went blank. They were disconnected. How dare she?

Something was going on. What was going on? Delirious, I glared at the laptop for what seemed like hours, trying to work out what was happening.

_What has he been doing? Had he been planning to take the girls and not come back? He had got the passports in his name and I had given him permission. He was not coming back! His mother knew this; she didn't want the girls telling me. Who's the Ade? Had he cleared out the bank account? Does his work know? Who will know anything? Pete, Pete James the landlord, he might know something. Oh my God, what if he doesn't bring the girls back! He paid for my implants without a fuss, now I know why - he wanted me to sign the passport forms, he had had this planned for a long, long time. Was he that heartless? He knows how much the I love the girls, even if he wanted to, he couldn't cope alone with them. Surely his mother would make him do the right thing. Am I making this up? She did say that is wasn't true. I need to speak to him. Why won't he pick up? Maybe he is going to stay there. What am I going to do? What rights do I have, I have no rights, they are in his name, and I am not. I signed their bloody passport applications._ I need to speak to him.

My mind spun into overdrive. It wouldn't stop. Perilous thoughts haunted me all night.

Millions of them. Thoughts, reasons, questions, arguments, revenge, everything whirred in my mind. As the night wore on, the hotel mini-bar became drained. Crying and screaming, my mind brought up the worst thought ever. That I had seen all four of my other children waving goodbye to me!

I phoned his mobile. I phoned his mother's landline again and again and no-one answered. After nearly wearing a hole in the carpet, I decided I needed to get some help. In the morning I would speak to the landlord and see if he knew anything, after all they worked together.

At 7.30am a groggy female voice answered Pete James's mobile.

'Hello, it's Jerro's partner, uh, the tenant in Pete's house, please can I speak to him urgently?'

'He's in the shower, I will get him to call you back ASAP,' her cockney voice told me, 'you alright love?'

'Yeh.' I tried to sound relaxed. 'The house is fine, there are no problems. Just need to ask a favour?' For all she knew I could have set the house on fire or something.

'It's not urgent, just wanted to catch him before work.'

'Ok, will get him to call you in a minute, - Alright Dwaine, Sasha - I'm coming. Got to go. Kids, huh.' They both giggled nervously and she hung up.

I frantically watched my phone for signs of life. Five minutes passed, then six minutes, at nearly seven minutes the phone began to vibrate and play its ringtone. I tried as best as I could to sound calm. Pete the landlord said,

'You alright love?' 'Is everything alright love?'

'Oh, everything's fine, just a bit of a domestic really. I didn't want to get you involved, but, please don't let Jerro know that I've phoned you. He's home in Nigeria and wants to know what his official return to work date is? Do you know?'

'Well, I'm due back the day after tomorrow, so I guess Jerro will be too. That is when the office re-opens after the New Year.'

'Oh, ok Pete, could I ask you a favour, please? If you see him, could you send me a text to tell me \- if he looks ok?' I stuttered. 'We had fallen out once before and it took him a week to come round. I worry, Pete!' Pete went quiet. 'Please Pete, is that ok, just a text to say he's in work?'

'Ok love, no worries. Try not to worry, he'll be back, he needs to pay the rent.' I didn't laugh at his stupid joke.

'Thank you.'

After that call I felt pacified, but not content. I guessed if he had planned to stay away, he would have had to quit his job, and cancel the tenancy. After all - he was a big part of Microsoft. But then again, Microsoft had offices in Kano.

My mind spun, Hope had said 'school in Kano.' I had to sit tight, maybe I was making all this up in my head. Maybe it was just paranoia. I decided to leave the hotel and go back to Fleetwood and wait. I debated phoning my social worker, but it was still the Christmas holidays and she probably wouldn't be back. The day dragged and dragged.

The minutes seemed like hours, the clock seemed to watch me all day long. Its ticks turned into barks, yelping at me. After one bottle of wine, it began to tick quieter.

I had to stay soberish. Act normal for the 6pm Skype call. By three o'clock I was fast asleep in the chair with Christopher's photo, then at 6pm, the laptop started ringing. Stirred from my little nap, I belted out of the seat and connected to the incoming call. Greeting me was Tia and Hope, still fighting for the webcam screaming,

'Hello Mummy,' again pushing each other out of the way to see Mummy's face.

Tears of abundance flowed down my cheeks. I was overwhelmed.

'Hello my baby girls, I do so love you both so much'

'Mummy, we want to come home!'

'You are coming home tomorrow. Where is Daddy?' His big fat crotch appeared at the r of the girls' heads.

'I'm here Samantha, how are you?'

'I'm good Jerro. How are you? How's things? Are you coming, sorry, getting ready to come home?'

'So many questions. Girls go to Grandma and let me talk to Mummy.'

Jerro told me that the girls were desperate to come home. He was loving the sunshine and seeing Aden. I asked who was Ade, but he brushed it off. He said that his Ma and the girls got on great, and she would love them to come and live here and go to school here.

'To be honest Samantha, I did think about it, they have great English schools here. But I know in my heart that the girls are English, through and through, regardless of their skin colour.' I felt like the world had lifted off my shoulders. He went on to tell me that he had had a lot of things to deal with from his past on this trip and would tell me when he got home.

Also that he had seen our relationship a lot clearer from over there.

'Yeh,' I gasped. He said he was really worried about my drinking and the bad example I was setting in front of the girls. He said he had asked me on many occasions to look at my drinking. Ok, I had heard him, but I didn't think I had a problem. He had asked if I agreed with him. I agreed on everything, (especially as we were on Skype). This bastard had me by the short and curlies, he had the potential to kidnap my kids, what was I to do, fucking disagree with him! I agreed over and over again with him. Whatever he said, I'd admit to.

He told me I had to stop drinking and to go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. He made me admit on Skype, with his mother beside him that _I was an alcoholic_. As my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I said,

'I am Samantha, I am an alcoholic.'

'We need to talk about OUR relationship Sam,' he said bluntly. I nodded. He said he hadn't been answering his phone as he had had to sort out 'stuff'.

'What stuff?' I yelled at him. 'Sam, I will tell you tomorrow, just let me enjoy my last day and I will tell you everything tomorrow. Is that OK?'

'Yeh.'

Eventually he let me get away from his lecture and allowed the screaming girls to be released from their captor (his mother). They came back into view on the webcam.

'Mummy, has Daddy made you cry again?'

'No Darlings, I am crying happy tears. I am just so happy to see you all and can't wait to see you tomorrow after you fly home. Will you be good girls for Daddy?'

'Yes Mummy.'

'I love you Tia, I love you Hope, Christopher loves you too, look he's here, in this photo.'

'See you tomorrow Sam, promise me - things will change?' Jerro begged.

'I promise.'

'I promise too,' he replied.

His supervised disciplinary had not alarmed me, it just reconfirmed that he believed he was back in charge. He was still a tosser.

Those few frantic days had actually made me realise that I had made a terrible mistake by putting the girls' passports in his name. The potential for harm was limitless. It didn't bear to think about the possibilities and the power that he had over me now. I had stitched myself up. Good and proper. I had to sort this problem out. I needed help.

I thought frantically for the rest of the day. The only thing that took the edges off my paranoia was the wine. _He's a conniving bastard. He had had this planned all along._ _Oh well, if he thinks he can lord it over me and this family he has got another think coming. I will change my bloody name by deed poll, he can't do fuck all about that. That is what I will do with the rest of this money and the rest of this fucking day!_

So after what I thought would have been a long drawn-out process involving solicitors and a huge bill, within five minutes, I had found out on Google. That I could renounce my surname Baxter and could be Samantha Ibori, legally, for less than a fiver.

The law stated that I had legally renounced my old name and from now on it was illegal to use my birth name. I couldn't wait to tell the girls. I didn't care how Jerro responded, as there was nothing in the world he could do about it.

I decided to make an extra special effort and spring-clean the house before they came back. When walking around I was really surprised at the mess that was all around me. It was all 'my' mess. I was gobsmacked. I couldn't believe I had made such a mess. I always saw myself as a tidy person. I was forever blaming Jerro and the girls for the untidiness, but they hadn't even been here for nine days, so it must have been me. Donning my rubber gloves, I advanced with military precision. I washed and bleached all the doors, walls, laminate flooring, light switches, toilets, every surface in the house, every chair, bed stand, skirting boards, lampshade, window ledge, stair rail, handrail, bath and sinks.

After a few hours, I was a bit high on the bleach, but the house was gleaming. My brain was in overdrive, but I was proud of my efforts. Everything had a place now, and was touchable. Jerro would be happy to see it so clean.

That night it was difficult to get to sleep, it had been such an eventful day.

As I lay on my bed, I reflected over the past nine days. It had been hell. I had spent the time paralysed with fear for many reasons, but he was coming back with the girls. We were all desperate to see each other. He said he had kind of missed me; he must have - if he was coming back. Ok, I had had a drink around lunch time yesterday, but I had managed to put it down and do some cleaning. I chatted to myself.

'It is not as if I can't stop myself drinking whenever I want. I'm not a real alcoholic!'

The house was immaculate, but still my mind was buzzing. I hadn't slept. I was going to have to explain about the money and the credit cards and the debt collectors and the photographs. _Nah, I will leave it, I have time._ Then a thought came back to me about the phone call to Pete. His Mrs, she didn't half sound like Janice. I think she even called to one of her kids, Dwaine! Will have to ask Jerro to ask him and see if it was Janice?

Chapter Eleven (Jerro's story)

You just couldn't have predicted what had happened in Nigeria. It was bliss, the sunshine, decent food, Ma, and just having peace to live our lives in. But, there were sad moments too, I must say. I had a lot of soul searching to do and a lot of goodbyes to say. Ma and Aden were well, boy, he had grown. He was as tall as me and he was only thirteen. It was great to show off the girls and introduce them to their Nigerian family. Ma could not get enough of the girls. I would catch her just staring, she had so much love in her eyes. It reminded me of the love I see every day between Sam and Hope

'Sometimes I see you and your brother Ade playing together, when I watch the girls.'

The first time she said it, I told her off. She knew not to mention his name. It made me shudder with rage. But she didn't stop.

'Jerro, he was their uncle, you have to tell the girls.' I walked off.

Every morning she would be sitting by the girls bedside. Just waiting for them to wake. Even though it was so sweet, my guilt had increased, ten-fold. Our ten days flew by. It was a whole Christmas with no arguments, no alcohol, no madness, no selfishness, just children, sunshine and smiles. It was such a relief to get away from the northwest winds and Samantha. Lately she was really worrying me with the drink. I was beginning to think that she was a real wino, to say the least!

I hadn't realised how deluded she had become, before I left, but after a week away, I'm thinking she has got an even bigger alcohol problem than I thought before. She was always drinking, day and night. Watching her on Skype was surreal. She was so dramatic and animated. Posing as the bereft mother, always in a state of angst. Missing her children and pining for them. When it was obvious she was slurring and probably hiding her glass of red wine. She must have thought I was stupid. As if I couldn't tell the difference between fuelled and unleaded. Even though I raged inside, I wanted to have a go at her but what was the point.

'Ah, at least it's not drugs and chaos this Christmas.' I pacified myself. She had stayed out of hospital, and out of jail, I should be grateful that at least she did manage a week or so alone without anyone coming to any harm.

Maybe Ma had given them some of her special syrup as the girls slept the whole flight home. As the flight touched down at Manchester, we were overjoyed and thankful for being home. We collected the car and drove home singing Bino and Fino songs - some crazy Nigerian cartoon characters, that the girls loved.

*

The car must have been quiet as I didn't hear it coming up the driveway. I didn't even hear the front door open. All I heard was Jerro yelling up the stairs at me.

'You trying to kill us?' I looked down the stairs, his face was like a cartoon character all puffed up whilst he rubbed angrily at his red eyes. He was gasping for breath.

' Open the f-ing windows, girl... it's explosive in here! Man, oh man... Sam, Open The Windows and the Doors!' he screamed. I was clueless, I couldn't smell anything. _Typical shithead, there's me thinking he will come in praising me for having a lovely clean house and all he does is moan._

'Where's the girls?' I ran past him barefooted.

'In the car, I'm not bringing them in here, Sam, it's Toxic!'

I flung open the door and took hold of the girls like I was Jesus welcoming back his flock. I held them tight. It felt like they had been away for months. They were home, they were here.

As we walked into the house it was a bit bleachy and it did sting our eyes and make you feel a bit light-headed. The atmosphere in the house was brand new for the first couple of days, Jerro didn't even nag at me about having a little drink, however things changed very quickly. Jerro returned to work on the Wednesday of the first week in January.

On the Saturday of that week, he was outside cleaning the car and I noticed him talking to Collette. I thought he wouldn't spit on her even if she was on fire. So I watched with interest at the body language that was going on between them. It was very, very friendly. She was up close as if she had a secret. I wrestled with what I should do next. I wanted to go out and scream at the pair of them.

Something was going on out there. I needed to bide my time.

He finished buffing the car with a damp cloth and came back inside for the polish. He avoided eye contact. The girls begged to help him, but he barked at them and told them to go back and watch the telly. Whatever was going on in that mans mind was really troubling him. I tried to rationalise out, what I had just witnessed. If he was interested in her, surely I would have spotted it a mile off; he didn't look like he was. He didn't bother to polish the whole car, just the bonnet.

'I'm going for a shower!' he muttered as he pushed past me in the hallway. I picked up my glass and chewed lightly at the rim. I replayed it in my mind and decided that those two were definitely up to something. He had been washing his car, she had mooched up to him, chatted, he'd come back into the house to see where everyone was and now he was preparing a shower for himself. My mind began whirring. I poured another glass, it was ten minutes past ten o'clock. I sat quietly downstairs listening for clues. He was flicking about in the bedroom, rustling through drawers, banging the wardrobe doors, moving the bed, whatever he was up to I sat tight and waited. The girls and I turned the TV down real low and we heard him running the shower. Then running the hot tap as he shaved at the sink. The scales clanked on the radiator pipe as he kicked them out of his way, as he put his dirty clothes in the washing basket. Then I heard him clomping along the hallway back to the bedroom. There was more noisy raking through the drawers. A waft of deodorant came downstairs followed by a clean-shaven, smartly-dressed Jerro.

'You look nice, what you up to?' I asked.

'Was thinking of going into town and having a mooch around the shops!'

'Oh, alright!' I considered jumping down his throat, but something stopped me from opening my mouth.

'Who you going with?'

'No one, just want to have an hour on my own. It's been a hard couple of weeks for me.'

'Oh, ok. See you in a bit!'

He left the house and I stood gawping out of the lounge window. I was still stood there surveying the street when he came back. In the whole hour only two cars moved, one man had walked past the window with his dog and two children had gone past on their bikes.

Fleetwood is quiet in winter. The shopping areas are very quiet. If he'd have gone there it wouldn't have been busy, no tourists braved the cold winds in the winter. Jerro's rage was obvious as he slammed the door of our house behind him.

'You alright?' I asked with a smile. He pushed past me and went straight up to the bedroom. There was more slamming of drawers, then a thundering of footsteps. He galloped down the stairs. He charged into the lounge and motioned to me with his head.

'Out. Now!'

Like a naughty school child I followed him into the kitchen leaving Hope and Tia in front of the TV watching that stupid Nigerian DVD - Bino and Fino.

'Out with it! And I want the TRUTH.'

I sat on the barstool with my mouth wide open,

'Out with what? What do you want Jerro? What have I done now?'

'You tell me!'

'Tell you what?'

'Ok, a starter for 10. Black Audi, Lottery tickets in my drawer? No, let's not go there. Tell me about Kez in the Black Audi?'

'Black Audi, I don't know what you are talking about. Kez - Black Audi?' I racked my slurry brain. 'Jerro, I don't know what you are going on about.' I reached for a refill and he fisted it up into the air. The bottle of red wine came down onto the hard tiled flooring and smashed into a million pieces, it was like a blood bath. Panic gripped me, spontaneously, I went to scoop up the glass.

His voice rattled, 'sit up there and tell me the truth, Samantha? Kez - Black Audi, what's more clearer than that?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Jerro,' I pleaded 'let me clean up this glass, the girls ....' My bottom lip was shaking.

He slapped me from right cheek to left, the whole stool wobbled, then it clankingly righted itself as I held onto my sore cheek.

'Don't you dare bring on those fucking crocodile tears, bitch! What the fuck have you had that fucking Kez in my house for?'

'I haven't Jerro, I haven't. You know, Kez is dead. He died in a robbery a long time ago, maybe four years. Jerro I haven't had anyone in the house. Please, please?' I pleaded.

His eyebrows were like question marks. 'You're not going to tell me anything about that, are you.' He took a deep breath. 'Let's move on. Where are my lottery tickets?' I reddened, as flashbacks of the debt collectors rushed through my brain. Then I knew what he was on about.

'Holy fuck Jerro.' He was nose to nose with me. 'Please Jerro, don't hit me. I will explain.'

'I'm listening.' He backed away. 'Boy this better be good. There were loads of tickets, not one or two, there were loads, Samantha.'

'I cashed them in Jerro, I cashed them in and I got the money. I had to. I had to, Jerro.' There was a moment's silence whilst he waited for me to spill.

'The bailiffs came round to get the money for those parking tickets and it came to £1500 and I couldn't tell you and bring you home from Nigeria because you would have killed me, especially after the last time. So the men, Oh my God, Jerro.' I blubbered back dry tears and snuffled at thick snot. 'The men in the black Audi came and offered me a deal, if I could get £1000.00 cash I could pay them off and you wouldn't have to go to court this week. I raised it Jerro, I saved you £500 by paying them off early.' I smiled as I thought he would have been pleased.

'I wouldn't have gone to court, you stupid bitch, I wasn't driving the fucking car, how many times have we been through this? It would have got kicked out of court. Look Samantha, they didn't even send photographs.'

I looked as guilty as hell. 'Jerro, they did send them, and it was so clear that it was me in the car, we wouldn't have been able to argue it. I didn't dare show you, but it was obviously me. I'm so sorry.' Tears began to flow. It didn't look like I was miming anymore. 'Oh Jerro, I didn't want to cause you chaos, you were having such a good time with Aden and the girls and your Ma. You have to believe me, I did this for you Jerro. For you and the girls, for your Ma and Aden. Honest Jerro, I couldn't have got you to come back, could I?'

He looked at me, examining me with a screwed-up face then crunched his way over the glassy red puddle and stormed out of the room. The house shook as he slammed the door and he left red footprints on the beige carpet. Paralysed, I watched as his shadow passed the window in the direction of Collette's house. Tia came crying into the kitchen wanting a biscuit, I yelled at her to stay outside.

'Mummy's broke a glass. Hope, Get Her Out of Here. Hope!' I shrieked. She immediately came to survey the scene. On my knees I wiped and swept up the glass knowing I was in really deep shit again.

He hadn't mentioned the credit cards, but at least I was cleared of having Kez here. I knew where he'd got his information from, it was that bitch Collette. She must have made out I was having men round, whilst he was away. I was getting fed up of biding my time on her! It must have been four or five hours later when a slurring, wobbly Jerro staggered back through our re-bleached home.

'Fucking bleach, fucking bleach, it's always fucking bleach.' Drunk he banged into walls, falling over toys and then he collapsed on the sofa. The girls glared - mystified. Within seconds he was snoring and frothing at the mouth. We watched without a word.

'Daddy's a bear,' I told the girls. 'Come on girls, let's leave him to have a sleep.' We got out of there as quick as we could, packing ourselves up for an hour in McDonald's. The three of us dug deep into our kiddy meals and enjoyed every single mouthful. There was no mention of Daddy because all the girls wanted was to play in the ball tank. When it was nearing 7 o'clock, it was time to get the girls home and into bed. As I had dragged them away from the play area and other children they started to throw tantrums. Kicking and screaming. I gently kneed them as I fastened them into their car seats. Within seconds of the car moving they were fast asleep. Poor things were tired out. When I arrived at the house they were stillsoundo. I had to go in and rouse the snoring bear.

His stale smell of beer coming off him made me retch. But he knew as well as I, that if the girls woke up at this late hour, none of us would get any sleep that night. When he came out to the car, he swept them into his big arms and carried them to their beds.

I put the kettle on and made him a strong black coffee. He growled at me. His scorn was evident from miles away.

'Jerro, I need to talk to you. Please come and talk to me. I have made you a coffee and brought you back a Big Mac meal.' I didn't dare pour myself a drink. Eventually he came through to the kitchen. 'Jerro, I am so sorry, you must believe me. I just didn't know what to do.'

'I believe you Sam, and in a way I can understand why you did it, but this is so fucking crazy. I can't leave you for a fucking minute. Can I?'

'You checked out on me today Jerro, and I haven't caused any trouble. Jerro, I didn't get those parking tickets on purpose, but I did sort out the payment and didn't drag you home.'

'I know, I know that. But you just cause such chaos, Samantha, everywhere you go. It's never-ending.'

'I've said sorry, what more can I say?'

With squinted eyes he glared, 'You could say it will never happen again?'

'Jerro, it won't, I will never go near the place - I promise. On the girls' lives. Jerro, I didn't plan it.'

'I know Sam, it just finds you.' He laughed at himself. I glared at him through gritted teeth. Then he surprised me. 'I'm sorry too. I am sorry I struck you today, I promised myself I would never strike a woman and I have struck you and this is killing me. Please believe me.' His eyes were begging.

'Forget it, I would have done the same!' I left a moment's silence. 'But Jerro, I have to tell you something. Something to do with the parking tickets' He waited with big moon shaped eyes. 'I only got around £300 off the lottery tickets, I can't remember right now. And I had to find the rest.'

'Did you go to work, is that why there were cars?'

'No, stupid. I came across those credit cards in the drawer. Santander! The pin numbers were in the envelopes. I maxed them both out for £600 and put all the money together and paid 'NoRing off'. That must have been the man you thought was Kez.'

'You've maxed out my fucking credit cards, what the fuck, Samantha?'

'I had to, Jerro, I didn't know what else to do, they were going to take you to court for the full £1500..............Jerro, I saved us £500?'

He took a measured step towards me and grabbed me by my chin. I shook, he stared into my eyes. His stale breath covered my face and eyeballs. He spat into my face, the phlegm lazily rolled down the side of my nose, he flicked my head off to the right. He walked out of the house without a sound. As I looked around the corner, the front door was left wide open. He looked like bloody 'Bino' stonking off towards his car.

Strangely, I felt like a load had been taken off my shoulders. It was - all out - in the open. He knew now and he had to deal with it, the kids were fast asleep upstairs, the house was clean and tidy. All I knew was I definitely needed a drink. As I relaxed, I pondered over the day, _at least he would never see the photos_.

Typically, he came back smelling of another woman. The next few days he sulked around the house and went to work, the only people he was civil too was the girls. My deed poll certificate arrived and I hid it under my clothes in the wardrobe. I didn't dare tell him, I don't think at this precise moment in time he would have wanted me carrying his name.

His presence around the house was heavy and dramatic. I never understand why men sulk so much? When he was like that, all I wanted to do was kick him in the shins and tell him to grow up. It is not as if sulking will cure anything!

What had happened - had happened. It was history. There was no point ruining the present and the future for something that had gone. The more I drank, the more I resented the grizzly. He was really beginning to char at me. He didn't have to deal with those thugs, he knew they were after us for the debt, even before he went away. He knew that these firms of debt collectors won't leave you alone. They don't back down with just a phone call. I wondered whether I should tell him about the blowjob and sit back and watch this space?

Obviously, when he pissed off - who wouldn't be? But, as always, he was so predictable. Straight off to the first available hooker. No one else in their right mind would want him! Oh well, on a positive note, it gave me some space, as he'd leave me alone in the bedroom.

Whilst he was at work the girls and I just carried on with life as normal. We did the usual family things. The girls loved baking - on the top of their list of favourite things to make was gingerbread men. It was a lot of fun and we made lots of mess. Hope was five, and Tia was three and a bit. When we propped the bar stools alongside the kitchen worktops and mixed some dough. The ginger powder made Tia sneeze like mad. Then the poor little mite, got a little bit of ginger on her finger and rubbed it into her eye. All hell broke loose! It was the awkward trying to wash it out of her eye. After the tears slowed down a little, Tia slunk back into the lounge to watch the TV. So Hope and I carried on, she got the dough and rolled it out, then we got the gingerbread man cutter out, to cut the shapes.

Immediately, Tia came back to the kitchen and climbed up the spare bar stool. Hope didn't want her there, because for once, Hope and I were doing something together - alone. Hope climbed down as she got the hump and stomped off. Tia and I continued cutting out the shapes and managed to make another three gingerbread men. There was a little dough left over so I gave it to her and the rolling pin to play with. Whilst Tia was quite happily rolling out the dough and I had my back turned as I was putting the biscuits into the oven, Hope came back into the kitchen and stole the rolling pin from Tia. As Tia went to grab Hope and the rolling pin, she wobbled off the bar stool and fell with a thump onto the hard floor. A piercing scream rattled throughout the whole house. Immediately I scraped the whaling child into my arms and saw her grabbing her right arm. I was petrified that it might have been broken. I didn't know what to do. I phoned Jerro but he didn't pick up.

Something told me that it wasn't as bad as the scream had made me think, so I made a little sling out of a pillow case and fastened her right elbow into place. I decided to wait a few hours to see what happened. The Calpol medicine I gave her soothed her, it must have taken some of the pain away. As time passed she became more relaxed and fell asleep on the sofa. She must have been exhausted from crying so much. I was tidying up in the kitchen and I heard a little voice, when I put my head around the lounge door frame, I saw the cutest sight. Hope was on her knees next to Tia, who was still asleep and she was praying for her baby sister to get better.

'Please Jesus, Amen.'

*

When I was that age I had been an only child, so I had never had to fight for a place amongst my siblings. However, I did have to fight for a place to survive. We lived in dark, damp, cold houses. I now know them as squats. The houses were covered in mattresses and empty bottles of drink crushed under my feet in the dark. Sometimes I would find needles lurking in corners. The houses were always full of people. Mum used to tell me that they were her friends. But I always knew that they weren't. They'd shout at her, steal from her, do vile sexual things to her, hit and kick her, but she would still stay with them. Then as I grew, they did the same things to me. She wouldn't protect me. If I told her anything, she would just shout back, and say that I was making it all up. It wasn't long before drink and drugs found me.

I was nine years old when I got my first swig of cider along with a hand up my school pinafore dress. It wasn't long after that I experienced Ketamine and a man's penis inside me. I lay paralysed and watched as he thrust through my hymen. I didn't have any prayers, or any hope; just a grave-deep, churning hole inside of me. I learnt how to steal and within weeks, I was stealing from all the people in the house and selling their drugs in school. The older boys loved me and began to look out for me, offering me protection from the school bullies. I also began shoplifting for a living. No shop assistants even noticed me. If anyone did, I would tell them that I had lost my Mum and was looking for her. They'd leave me alone and I would nick everything I could get my hands on.

My drug dealing days didn't last long and within a couple of weeks I was expelled from the school and slung in yet another foster home. Mum was sent into Rehab again, and when she came out, all clean, nice and smiling, I would have day visits and before I could blink, I would be back living with her and going through the whole cycle again.

After Jerro made me say I was an alcoholic on Skype, I began to question whether I was turning into a replica of my mother. I did like a drink, so what? But I would never bring that kind of lifestyle onto my children. I had to forget it, put it away and never mention it again. But it troubled and still haunted me. Part of me would have loved to tell Jerro, and just watch his face. Because he thought he had done all the hard work and make me who I was these days, he didn't realise just where I had started and where I had got myself on the social ladder. But, then again, he would probably use my past as another arrow to shoot me down with when he was being spiteful.

Even though Jerro and I hardly ever saw see eye to eye, we did agree that drugs would not be any part of our family. Nor the police, nor strangers in the night. I knew that sometimes we were out of order shouting at each other in front of the girls, but compared to some of the families on Jeremy Kyle, we looked angelic. I didn't really care if Jerro went and slept with someone else. Who was I to judge?

If I got the opportunity again, I would. However, I would never park in Aldi again!
Chapter Twelve

The clanking of the school bell summoned all the children and parents back into a sense of normality and routine after the Christmas holidays. The school boiler bellowed out smoke into the grey cloudy sky, as the doting mothers blew hot air onto their children's frozen fingers. The teachers smiled and welcomed everyone back. The mothers soon scattered, it was too cold to hang around. By the end of the first week, everything seemed to be back to normal at home.

Tia had started nursery three mornings a week, so I was enjoying a bit of time resting in the mornings. I was always falling asleep in front of the telly, then waking up just before midday. It seemed that I was always one of the last mothers to be picking up their child.

'Traffic, Queues,' I would mime at the staff. They would give me a false smile. But I didn't care. No one could ever understand how tired I was becoming.

In the afternoons Tia would come home and I would put her in front of the TV. She was always tired too. We would watch that stupid Bino and Fino dvd on and the Tinkley Winkley theme tune music, would make us both drowse off in minutes. At about 2.30pm we would dive into the car and go and collect Hope from school and mooch on home. I had planned to do people's nails in the mornings, but the phone never rang any more. I thought that maybe people didn't have any money left after Christmas, and I told Jerro this. He advised me to phone around and just say a quick Happy New Year to my clients, and take it from there. But when I did, everyone I called seemed shocked that I had phoned them. They all asked the same question.

'Do you still do nails, I thought you had stopped?'

I didn't have a clue where they had got that from. I'd never said that to anyone. I was becoming confused. I had had no problems with any of my clients before Christmas. But something was happening that I couldn't make any sense of. My mind started to go crazy with questions. Why would anyone want to shun me? I hadn't done anything wrong? Jerro sympathised with me, but in hindsight I wished I had never confided in him. He just used it against me.

'You can't even manage a bloody nail round. Now, you don't even get off your arse. What do you expect - them to come running around after you?' That was so hurtful, it wasn't my fault. But he was obviously seeking revenge for Christmas. Just like Hope, I began to pray. 'Please God, Can't you stop him taking everything out on me.'

I was coming to the end of my patience. I started to really hate him, I couldn't bear to be in the same room as him. I wasn't lazy, I had worked hard to build my business.

Someone was out to ruin me. Someone was envious of me. Then I remembered Christmas and the snide looks Collette was always giving me.

She had grassed me up for having 'Kez' around. Maybe Jerro had had words with her for shit-stirring and not getting her facts right. Maybe she was taking revenge. Maybe it was her that was pushing my customers away. I needed to keep an eye on that woman.

I kept myself to myself at the school gates and didn't speak to many of the other mothers. I usually dropped Hope and rushed off with Tia for her playgroup. But I thought if I get up extra early and walk the girls to school, I might see and hear more and find out what was going on. I was right. I encountered loads of snide looks, sarcastic glances, and bitchy cliquey conversations.

Luckily, there was a new young mum at our school. She said hello to me on a couple of occasions. I felt so relieved. I began to look out for her in the mornings, her daughter – Lucy - was in Hope's class and they sometimes played together.

Like me, she was on high alert at the school gate. She noticed the many cliques of women around. Her name was April, and she was a Scottish girl who had just moved to Fleetwood. Her husband worked alongside Jerro at Microsoft and although she was loving life in the North of England, she was feeling really homesick after leaving a big family and group of friends that she had had all her life. April was planning on having lots of children. But first, she had promised her husband that she would go cruising with him around the Mediterranean for the summer, before they started family life seriously.

She talked endlessly about the places she wanted to go to see and visit. I loved her energy and love for people and places. It was like she was high, but without drugs. It wasn't long before we became great friends and we spent most of our days together. I either went around to her house or vice versa. Hope and Lucy played lovely together, until Tia came around. Tia liked playing with Lucy too, but Hope wouldn't let her.

'She's my friend, not yours!' Tears and tantrums would follow.

Jerro said that Tia would be all right once she started big school and got invited to her new friends houses.

'It's not a bad thing to be put in your place Samantha,' he would project onto me.

April didn't drink. One particularly bad morning I had had a swig of wine before I left the house, to calm my nerves. April smelt it on my breath, she was horrified. I thought it was quite funny, that I had needed a glass of wine in the morning to get me going, but her face stilled like a frozen lake. It's not as if I was over the limit for driving, it was just a little glass of wine, I reasoned. I began to think she was going to be as bad as Jerro.

During our friendship I had talked about my unhappiness with Jerro and although she did not criticise, I could tell she didn't approve of his behaviour. Unlike me, she didn't understand the sulking and him going off with the 'one' other woman. I told her, sex is his drug of choice, mine's the odd glass of wine. When I was around April, I decided to modify my conversation, so it only included things that she would like to hear.

One day we went to Blackpool shopping. It was such a laugh from beginning to end. As we sat idling, in a traffic jam, the driver in the next car to us passed me his card through the opened window.

'Take it!' April screamed at me. Then we got drinks sent over in the pub at lunchtime from a group of business men in the corner of the pub. We tipped our glasses and said thank you, then legged it as we saw them coming over to us. It was a crazy day, everything just seemed so funny, the Big Issue salesman that I gave £2 too and didn't take a paper made us laugh. We even laughed through the pain of the eyebrow-threading as she ripped hairs from our foreheads. Then in Debenhams, when we looked into the mirrors as we saw ourselves dressed in ball gowns. It was just such a lovely day. When I returned home I felt young, light and free.

Jerro must have sensed something was different, he began to show interest in me and asked about my day. I wasn't going to be interrogated and have my day ruined, so I just ignored him. He followed me from room to room.

'Jerro, I have nothing to tell you. I've been out with April, if you must know.' He didn't believe me. He was really suspicious and kept looking for clues. He grabbed my handbag and started to root through its contents. I had nothing to hide so I just watched, telling him he was obsessed and controlling and was getting things wrong all over again. (Tom sprang to mind.)

He slammed my belongings on the plastic worktop, pulled out a few pound coins and scrunched up the £10 note. He flung my Lil-Lets , perfume and lipstick onto the floor. I didn't have a clue as to what he was looking for, but he never found anything to be suspicious of.

'Give me your phone.' He demanded.

'Get stuffed, Jerro.' I walked away from him and left him with the kids alone in the house. I would not bow down to him.

He was beginning to be even stupider than he had ever been. Now he was becoming jealous of April. That was madness. When I came back into the house, I rebuilt my handbag and stood over him. Taking a deep breath, I started.

'Every time I make a friend, you ruin it.' I was right up into his face, I wasn't scared of him anymore. 'Tom was just a friend and you accused him of being something else. Now you're trying to push April away too. Well, go fuck yourself, Billy-No-Mates! Go and make your own friends. Oh I forgot, you haven't got any. You couldn't make a friend if you tried.' Surprisingly, he didn't come after me. As I threw him a look of disgust, I left the room. I had noticed a tear drop from his eye. I left him to stew with the remote control and ran myself a bath. I threw in a bath bomb and as it foamed up in the waters, the smell of jasmine filled the air and brought back memories. I locked myself behind the door and ignored the whole three of them.

Hope and Tia took it in turns to chap the door and try to disturb my peace, but I never gave in to them, once. I blocked the whole lot of them out. Calvin Harris bellowed in my ears. As I lay back I felt triumphant. I had shouted back at Jerro and made him cry. _I should have done it years ago._

_Let him do the parenting and I will have a good old sulk_.

When I resembled a wrinkly prune, I pulled out the plug and gave myself a pedicure. Wrapped in towels I sauntered into my bedroom. The house was still. There were two lumps in my bed where Hope and Tia were lying there fast asleep. I closed the door and sat on the edge of the mattress. They were precious little angels. I could have stared at them all night. I didn't want to move them to their own beds. As I dried my long hair they didn't stir. I gave myself a facial and a manicure. The girls still did not stir. Downstairs the TV blared out the ten o'clock news. As the kettle boiled, I bobbed my head into the lounge.

There was no one there. Jerro was not there. I stomped upstairs again, he was not there either. I shouted for him to come. He was not in the house. The car had gone too. His mobile phone and keys were not on the coffee table. He had gone out. The fucking bastard had gone out and left the kids on their own in the house unsupervised.

Angry beyond words, I gripped myself around the middle. He had pissed off and left them. My bottom lip shuddered. I wanted to smash the house up, I wanted to smash him up. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't do anything. Countless scenarios flooded through my brain. _Anything could have happened!_

I felt really bad, because I'd ignored the door, _thank God_ the girls knew how to keep themselves safe. I struggled to understand how Jerro of all people could have left them all alone? I phoned April on the landline, then realised that it was really late as I heard her answer with a groggy 'Hello.' I decided not to talk and put the phone down, cutting her off.

The following morning, I had to apologise to her. With a dry throat, I told her the reasons she patted my shoulder and said, 'that's awful, hen, what are you going to do?'

'I don't know, I don't know.' What could I do?

I didn't know what to do. 'Maybe have another bottle of wine every day, maybe castrate the bastard!' April shook her head. I don't think she took on board that I was joking.

As per usual, he returned home smelling of women. His predictability bored me. After listening to his mumblings, he would bang his way throughout the whole house. His snorts came into the room just before the smell of B.O. hit us. By now, I'd lost all patience with him. The only thing that held us together was the girls. Strangely, thoughts of picking up again were not the first thing that came to mind. I decided to have a chat with the social worker about my relationship and see if she could help.

*

At the school gates a few weeks later, Jade. Lucy and Tia were swapping _Princess_ playing cards and April asked how we were all doing.

'It's awful, April,' I replied. 'I just want to leave him. He's put a Tracker App on my phone. He's obsessed with stalking me. It is getting really out of hand.'

'Aye, hen, it's not right!'

'Let's drop the kids and I'll treat you to a coffee, Samantha.' I nodded. She linked arms with me and the girls copied. Through the coffee bar windows, we saw there were a few other Mums from school enjoying a quiet five minutes too. As the door bell clanked above our heads and we entered the room, the loud chatter stilled. And everyone turned around and stared at us two. We found a table in the corner, adjusted our seats and ordered two frothy cappuccinos. As we played with the coffee froth we relived our giggles from the day in Blackpool. From behind me, I was sure I heard the word 'Pimp' come from the other table. I tried to ignore it. A moment later, I heard it again. Secretly I scanned the group of women, to find its source. Then I thought, I must have been imagining it. Then I heard it again. I knew then, that I wasn't hearing things. I couldn't say anything to April, she didn't have a clue about my past. As April chatted about Kenny and how desperate they were for another baby, half listening, I heard it again. Inside I trembled. I tried not to look too distracted as she rabbitted on. She wanted a boy but not until they had done their travelling in the summer. She hated being pregnant in the heat and having to get on and off of boats when she was big, she wanted to be free to enjoy all of life's pleasures, swimming, walking, etc., etc. Then I heard it again and saw its founder - I saw the words roll off her tongue. It was Collette.

Up until this point Collette had been hidden behind a huge fat woman, buffering her snide remarks. I was in no doubt that they were aimed at me. The other women were giggling along with her and three of them pretended they were not looking my way. Which they obviously were. I had to hold myself back. I wanted to jump over the tables at her, but something made me want to protect April more and just get the hell out of that cafe. The last thing I ever wanted was her to think lowly of me. We had become great friends. April carried on talking as we left a few pound coins on the table to pay for the coffees. As she stood up she said that she was going back to Scotland for a week, the following week.

'Did you hear what I just said?' April asked.

'Oh, sorry, April, I'm feeling kind of wobbly. I think I need to have a lie down.'

'You haven't told me anything about Jerro yet. All I've done is talk about me.'

'I need to go. April, let's get out of here.' The crowd of women glared at our backs as the bell told them we were leaving. April followed. She hadn't noticed anything.

'Was I boring you, Sam?'

'No, oh no, April. Never! I'm just not feeling too good!'

'Do you want me to take you home?'

'No, I'm fine - I'll walk. The fresh air will do me good. Will ring you in a bit. Sorry, April, I've got to go.'

That fucking bitch Collette was up to her old tricks again. As if by clockwork, everything started to click into place. She must been going round telling everyone what she had told Jerro at Christmas, that Kez had been around, she must have been spouting off to my nail clients and now, no one wanted me to do their nails. The fucking bitch. I was right, now the river had met its source! I decided that she was not right in the head!

April phoned later that day and I had to tell her that I had once been friendly with Collette and fallen out with her, that I'd guessed that she was the one going around badmouthing me to other people, and that I had heard some accusations behind us when we were in the cafe.

'No, it's nothing to do with you April. Just go to Scotland and have a great time. I will get Jerro to sort her out.'

Jerro's response was, 'everywhere you go Samantha, you cause trouble.'

'I'm not getting involved. How am I to know that it wasn't Kez?'

I screamed at him. 'I told you he was dead! Do you not believe anything I say?' The frown on his face told me - he didn't. 'That life is fucking dead Jerro!' I roared. 'The only person who keeps it alive today is you - you - Professor fucking Higgins. I wish you would fuck off and leave me and the girls alone. What is the point of being with you!' He pushed me out of his way then the house vibrated with the thud of the kitchen door as he slammed it.

'Tell her. She'd better watch her back.' I wailed at the back of the door.

That evening, April rang from Scotland. She was light and cheery, there was a lovely familial noise behind her. She was full of news about her family and sounded so happy.

'You sound a bit down in the dumps, Sam, is everything alright?'

'Don't worry about me April, I'm a tough cookie, just enjoy your family. I've got the girls.'

'I know, but you are very special to me, always. Remember that Sam. I do love you.'

Spontaneously, I replied. 'I love you too.'

After I put the phone down, I realised I did love her, she was the best thing to come into my life, ever since Janice. I realised, for once, that within limits, I had become to trust her. But I's never trust Jerro. When I was alone with the girls I held them both tight and felt an overwhelming rush of love for them. With a great big swollen heart and matching tears, sincerely, I told them,

'Hope I love you - Tia I love you.' My guard was down and I felt their love coming back too. For the first time, I received love.

'Love you too, Mummy.' they replied spontaneously.

'Don't cry.' Tia said.

They did not know how much I had wanted to feel that. I could say it, I had wanted to feel it, but I was too scared to surrender myself to it. Love had always hurt me, I realised, it couldn't now.

My Social Services history read that we were doing a good job parenting the girls and the Social Services were happy and in the throes of taking them, Hope and Tia, off the child protection register.

Their visits were becoming less and less. The schools were now liaising with the authorities and knew things were happily simmering away. There were no issues being raised by the professionals around us. We were just like many other dysfunctional families. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I would occasionally chat to Grace over the phone. April was my support network then. She kept insisting I make an escape plan to get away from Jerro. There was nothing left between us. I was under no physical threat from him, but I was frightened of what I might actually do to him, he was totally humiliating me now, going off with other women and not taking my side against Collette and her cronies. I used to dream about killing him.

Not that I wanted to kill him or leave him really. I could have put up with him for a bit longer. But the girls needed to live in a better atmosphere. The bath night incident had smashed any trust between Jerro, myself and the girls. Up until that point I hadn't realised how self-centred and selfish he could actually be. If Social Services had found out about that, we wouldn't be being considered to be taken off the 'at risk' register! Oh no, they would be on to us like a ton of bricks.

April never relented on her escape plan idea. Together we researched my housing position. I could ask Jerro to leave the family home and live alone with the girls. Housing Benefit would pay my rent, as I would be classed as a single parent. I wouldn't be liable for Council Tax either. I would get Child Tax Credits and Child Benefit. Jerro would have to pay maintenance of course, but not a lot. Financially we would probably be better off.

Jerro could have the girls at the weekends. I would have no objections to that. They could still go to the same schools - not a lot would change, except Mummy and Daddy would be living in two different houses and not one. I believed that we would all be a lot happier all round. But in my heart of hearts, I was a bit frightened of being on my own. April didn't know anything about the drugs, and the voices that were always there. I decided to put up with him, for just a bit longer. Things between us had always gone bad, then good. 'Somehow it would work out,' I told her optimistically. She didn't look too convinced.

However, this bad patch went on and on and on. For over two months. He kept going out and coming back smelling of booze and this woman. It was always the same perfume. In a weird sort of way, I found that comforting. In the bedroom he left me alone and spent most nights sleeping on the sofa. One night I couldn't sleep. I'd woken up dry and wrenching. No amount of water could satisfy my thirst. I crept downstairs and got some bread to quell my stomach. I peeked into the lounge. His mobile sat flashing on the coffee table. I sneaked in and smuggled his phone out. In the quiet kitchen I scrolled through his texts. His last text read,

'Night, hot chick.' It was sent to Colin.

_Colin. He's not gay, is he? Nah, he can't be_. I scrolled back to the beginning of the chat. It was dated the sixth of January. That was just four nights after he had come back from Nigeria. The night after he had discovered the scratch cards and lottery winnings missing. I was transfixed.

'Hi, Honey, pop over when the lights on'

'Love too'

'That was fun, feel like I'm 16 when I'm with you'

'Feel like a horny bugga when I'm with you'

'What you doing tonight:)'

'Meet me at 8'

'Last night was amazing, dream of me - sweet man'

'This is how much you arouse me' – enclosed, a photo of his penis

'Coast's clear'

'Give me 5'

'Love it when you talk dirty'

'Love to fuck you from behind'

'Meet me at 10.15'

'No worries'

'Missing you pulling at my nipples'

'Give me five minutes'

'Come away with me at the weekend'

'Come over at 7.30, look for the light'

'I can't do it Jerro, please don't make me do it, it is alright for you? '

'Collette, Honey, it's just a bit of fun, we are not hurting anyone'

********Bang! **** Bang Bang ****** Bing Bong! ****** Gotcha' - Hook Line and Sinker, he was knocking off Collette! I didn't need to read anymore of their filth. I replaced his phone and went back to bed.

The texts and the list of events since Christmas all came back into focus. I replayed the texts over and over in my mind. The texts around the fifteenth of February seemed as if he was planning to leave me, he was begging her to leave - with him. _Well, good riddance_.

Even though it was a shock, inside, I was elated. All I had to do was bide my time and I would be free of both of them. Then a shiver came over me, I felt a grave-like coldness. _Was he going to take the girls?_

It was possible - he could. The girls were in his name, both on their birth certificates and their passports. I needed to get hold of their passports, but they were locked in his safe.

He still did not know that I had changed my name by deed poll so maybe now was a suitable time to spring this on him. I had to plan this out right!

For nights my mind spun. Insecure, paranoid thinking raced through my mind all of the time. Horrible voices echoed, telling me I was unworthy, that I deserved this, that it had only been a matter of time, before everyone found out how dirty I was. I didn't deserve to walk around this planet, to breathe, or to live. I should just kill myself and get out of the way. No one wanted me. Never had and never would. No one liked me, even my friends lied to me, they weren't friends, they were just pretending. I was too horrible to have friends. Just die. Just die, they'd tell me. After a few days, no amount of wine could silence them. All my old cravings were back. I was hitting rock bottom and I couldn't save myself. One day I found myself at the bus station but the bus driver wouldn't allow me on the bus, because I was staggering drunk.

I had had enough. The lies, the abuse, the deceit, the falseness of my life. I didn't give a shit anymore. 'Let him have the girls, I can't keep up with this shit. You're all driving me insane!' I screamed at the Manchester bus queue. Then a police car pulled up next to me. I needed gear, only gear, that was the only thing that could take me away from this shit. The police officer talked kindly to me and offered me a ride home. I couldn't argue.

I was in the back of their car and outside the flat only moments before Jerro pulled up. The following morning I looked outside and saw a strange car parked in our driveway. It was Grace's car. I took a step backwards. She saw me hiding behind the net curtains. She was doing a spot check.

'I was in the area and thought I'd pop by for five minutes, is this a good time?'

'I was just on my way out' I stammered.

With raised eyebrows, she asked, 'Five minutes, Samantha?'

She came into my scrambled messy home. I rustled about picking up clothes, toys and papers. There were empty bottles of wine by the kitchen sink, I couldn't get to them quick enough. The bin was overflowing, shoes were everywhere.

Red-faced I said. 'Sorry about the mess.'

'I didn't come to check on your housework, Samantha. How's things?' she asked.

'Fine, fine. Well, to be honest \- not great - between Jerro and me,' I confessed. I couldn't stop myself from spilling the beans on my awful life. I sank onto one of the stools.

'Grace .....'

I gave her the under 18s version of my family life since Christmas. About the debt I had accrued from the parking fines, the debt collectors, Jerro in Nigeria with the girls, but she knew about that. My fears that he was going to stay there - with the girls. Me realising I would have no rights if he had kept to his plan. I begged her not to tell him, but I confided in her about my deed poll certificate. At this point she wrote herself a note to change her files immediately. I shared my suspicions about Jerro having an affair with a neighbour, and that it didn't hurt, and that I didn't actually care. I tried to make a joke out of it, but she didn't laugh. I had to make clear, over and over, that the children were in no danger, that Jerro was still an attentive father.

'You know, Samantha, it is the children's welfare that I am here for, not yours and Jerro's.'

I felt a right tosser.

She asked me about my drinking and I told her I enjoyed a drink, but I only had one glass a day.

'I can smell drink on you now, Samantha.'

'Oh that's just from last night. I need to brush my teeth.' I lied.

When she was writing notes my feelings sank as I realised I had just grassed myself up, she didn't care about us, she was checking up on us as a family. Policing us, she wasn't a friend or a confidant, she was a spy. I trembled at the thought of what she may do with my stupid information. I didn't dare mention my thinking patterns or my thoughts about picking up again. It looked like she was about to leave, then she surprised me.

'So what about your drinking Samantha?'

I nearly fell off my chair. 'What drinking?'

'It does smell strong in here. I'm not blind. I can see the bottles.' She pointed at the window ledge. I squirmed again in my seat.

'They are Jerro's.' I lied.

'Come on, Samantha. We all know he doesn't drink.'

'We had friends around for dinner last night.' I tried to dig myself out of this new black hole.

Grace looked at me over my glasses. If you can't be honest with me Samantha, who can you be? Come on girl, I'm here to help you.'

'Quite a lot, to be honest.' I looked at my knees. 'It's the only thing that gets me through all this.'

'Well, you know that it is illegal, to be drunk in charge of a minor. I need to report this.' She turned over a new page on her notepad.

'I need to make a call.' She stepped outside and sat in her car for ten minutes. I scrambled around and collected the glasses and bottles in sight and hid them in the cupboards. I was sweating when she knocked the door again.

'I want to work with you around this issue. Firstly I want you to go to your GP. Secondly, start attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, here is a list of when and where they are being held daily. Thirdly, I will monitor your drinking over the next couple of weeks and will be looking towards getting you assessed for a possible detox.' I felt exactly like my mother. I crossed my fingers behind my back. 'Samantha, you are now going to be put on a drug testing order and we will work alongside your doctor and monitor your drinking. I want you to think seriously about what I am telling you. This is serious.' Ashamed, I kept nodding.

'How much have you had to drink today?'

'Just one glass.' I replied; I was actually being honest.

'Do you need more?'

'No Grace, I daren't.' And I didn't.

I never picked up another glass, ever again.

They came around three times a week sporadically to test me, and every test was clear. My self-detox was hard, going through the shakes and fighting the voices without drink, but I had learned my lesson good and proper. When I realised I was turning into my mother, it was my final wake-up call.

As the days passed, nothing much changed. The girls and I had structured days, Jerro worked and stayed late at work, most nights. He came in smelling of 'her.' He continued sleeping on the sofa and he would be gone to work well before we got up. Grace had asked me to fill in a drinks diary every night, itemising the amount I had drunk in a day, how I'd felt, etc., etc. As I hadn't drunk anything, there was no need. But it did set me thinking that I should start a gratitude diary, just like I had done in NA. I wrote about what I was grateful for in the day that had just finished. And I found more things to be grateful for, than things to be worried over.

My sleep pattern was erratic for a few weeks, then it settled down. Instead of lying there for hours waiting for sleep, I was leaving my gratefulness and worries on the diarised pages and sleeping like a baby. I realised that I'd been saved that day by that bus driver and Grace. Through adversity I had found my strength. My rock bottom had risen from lying in the cells, to being in the back of a police car with the possibility of losing my kids and the kids losing their mother.

As the weeks and results gathered, Grace began to trust me a little but she never mentioned the girls coming off the register. I liked Grace, she set me standards. She was honest and made me see things clearly. Through her I started to see when I'd been provoked by people or circumstances into self-destruct mode.

Every time I saw Collette in the street, I would deliberately stare at her, I'd rage inside. She would scurry like a rat back into a drainpipe as she legged it back into her house. It gave me a sense of power but also a sense of fear. I began to realise I was scared of myself, because my brain worked on overdrive thinking up ways of taking my revenge on her. Once the devilment came out of their relationship, Jerro backed away from her. I held on to that prize and their secret and one day I might spill it to her partner!!!

My girls were happy and secure with me and loving school, so I sat back and enjoyed watching Jerro and Collette avoid each other. In my gratitude diary, I started writing poetry. One poem I wrote was called Rabbit Stew, it went;

Rabbit Stew

Road kill on the towny road

feeling nature's pull

Useless, Unworthy, white tailed rabbits

now in

dirtbag blood pool.

Caught by the Mrs,

rabbit - stewed!

After the February half term, the weather began to brighten up and warm a little. Hope, Tia and I noticed the birds began to sing in the mornings again. There seemed to be some hope to the new days. Not having to worry about maintaining a relationship with Jerro was less stress. I liked it. I started to feel happier within myself. I decided I would join a gym and put some muscle on my skeletal frame.

I was a size four or sometimes a six in clothes. I knew I was all skin and bone and had no muscle tone. My boobs had all healed and looked marvellous. But they did kind of look false as they bobbed on top of my bony ribs. They would look different after some toning.

My teeth had stayed white even though I had played around with the red wine. Muscle was the next gift I would give myself. Grace thought it was a great idea. She told me I would get a natural high from exercising.

As I toured the gym with a personal trainer, the rows of shiny bikes and weightlifting equipment looked a bit daunting. It reminded me of the labour ward. On first sight of the swimming pool, it soothed my anxieties about going. I grilled the trainer on how many times a day they cleaned it and with what. He reassured me that it was checked every thirty minutes.

'Most days, people get the pool to themselves, in the evenings it's busier though,' he said. I was happy with that. I only intended to go when the girls were in school. I decided that it was clean, blue and beautiful and I would use it. Then I saw the Jacuzzi - that troubled me. I couldn't help but think about the bacteria that was lurking and bubbling away all day.

There was a yoga or pilates class going on. I fancied a go at them. I fancied a try in the spinning studios too. Everyone seemed to be laughing in there. But not in the aerobics studio, that looked too hot and stressful. Half of my plan was to meet new people and become part of something. However, no one ever mentioned that it would hurt. That it would make you cry, it would increase your paranoia and that no one in the gym would even make bloody eye contact with you, never mind talk to you. I learnt that this gym was full of self conscious dicks who loved themselves. Ok, they were gorgeous. They needed mirrors to watch themselves, lifting weights, running inches, and wobbling on machines. I had never forgotten the image of that grey-faced skeleton who had glared back at me, in that hotel in Manchester nearly six years ago.

I was working on the new me and whether anyone talked to me or not I was going to make the most out of what God had given me. I wasn't insecure and couldn't make eye contact. I was Samantha and I had a good sense of self about myself

The personal trainer who was allocated to me was called Steve, he was ex-army. He had muscles to die for, a twinkle in his sparkly green eyes and a matching Hollywood smile every time he watched me. With me he was firm but fair. Even though he saw me close to tears, he would push me just that little bit further to run the extra metre or do the extra press-up. His exercise plan worked. It strengthened my core, legs and arms. It was gruelling, but enjoyable (afterwards!). After a few sessions, the pain and defences I had towards him dissipated and I started to look forward to the one-to-one sessions.

I ran for miles on the treadmill. No one knew, but as my feet pounded the rubber belt, in my mind, I was reliving a lot of my past. People and visions came into my mind's eye. Haunting me, chasing me. With every thud, silently I talked it through with myself, rationalising out my part in the events and the other people's parts. Some memories were what I had got myself into as an adult, but after I'd scraped the surface in the first few weeks, lots of vile childhood memories rushed in from when I was a helpless little girl. I had once been as powerless and beautiful as the two girls I'd put into school that morning, and I had never felt it or enjoyed it. I soon realised I had looked at myself as street skank all of my life.

If I couldn't make sense of what I'd remembered, I would simply keep running, keep lifting and pushing weights. Very soon I was burning that repressed anger and abusive memories into defined muscle. Alone in the shower, my muscles would tremble with exertion. Adrenaline would course through my body, even though I was exhausted. I felt like I could achieve anything in the world. It was like Grace had said, a natural high. I would have loved to calm down and soak in the Jacuzzi or maybe the pool, but the thought of the bacteria which may be in there soon quashed that urge.

The gym was soon becoming my drug of choice. It was safe and I was looking and feeling better than I had done in my adult years. Grace was so pleased with my progress. Although, she shared, she hated the gym.

'Ha,' I laughed, 'and you were the one pushing me into going, you talked me into it.'

She admitted that she'd never got through the pain barrier and had never ever had the adrenaline reward. She made me laugh. Through her officious demeanour, she was human after all.

I was beginning to see Grace more as a friend, than a Social Worker. Obviously she knew Hope and Tia were well looked after and there had never been any more issues raised.

Jerro did not like me being so friendly with Grace. He didn't like me going to the gym. He did not like me going out of the house really. Soon he started doing all the shopping at the weekends, he wouldn't let me know about his finances, he bought a safe and put everything in there: bills, receipts, passports, lottery tickets - everything. He paid for all the girls ballet classes up front and left me begging with a measly £20 allowance every week.

His tantrums began again, huffing and puffing through the house. One day, in a rage, he had shouted,

'I'll never trust you as long as I live! You should think yourself lucky I even pay for your gym membership. I can take it away - you know!' I was thrown. Why was he going on at me again? Nothing had changed between us.

I had the occasional client who wanted their nails done so that gave me a little bit of extra cash. Anything was better than having to beg from him. _He would have loved that power trip._

At the school gates, Collette would turn her back and chat behind her hand to her old cronies. April and I started to mix with a new group of girls. I would watch from afar, Collette looked really comical. Funnily, she was starting to look like Fino. It turned my stomach to think of her and Jerro together, but I had to be grateful, she had freed me from him for a few months. I think she'd guessed that I knew about their affair. In a weird way I started to feel grateful to her. She had become my saviour. Instantaneously, she would avert her eyes every time she felt me near her. April and I would chuckle away to ourselves.

Spring brought along many activities within the school year. A Spring Fete was being organised by the staff and the parents' committee, for mid March. Hope begged me to help out. They were looking for volunteers. I said yes and Hope jumped for joy. She couldn't wait for me to meet all of her classmates. There was going to be a crafts sale, a tombola, a raffle, a children's face-painting stall, and an Easter drama presentation by the Year Two children.

Hope begged me to help her teacher, not anyone else's teacher. Mrs Ross was her favourite. So I was put on the face-painting stall and I had two teenage sisters helping me on the day. April was put in charge of organising the raffle and tombola on the day. Beforehand, we were all set to the task of pre-selling entry tickets. Collette booked and paid for hers at the school office privately, she wouldn't approach us.

I spent a couple of weeks practising face-painting, lions, chicks and rabbits on Hope and Tia. They loved it.

'Paint Daddy,' they would beg. I would never reply. Neither would he.

The day of the fete was amazing, the sun shone, the whole school must have turned up. The children's faces were blessed with smiles from ear to ear. My lions, chicks, bunnies and Easter egg patterns went down well.

Jerro and Collette were on the school playground at the same time, avoiding each other, it was like the dance of the ugly ducklings. Even a blind man would have picked up their vibe. I just giggled as I watched them.

As I worked my way through the never-ending queue of youngsters, I felt I actually belonged somewhere. The youngsters put so much trust in me; as I painted I was intrigued by the randomness of the stories they told.

'I want to be a lion, then I can hunt my sister down.'

'I want to be a cat so I can eat cat biscuits.' 'Why?' 'I like cat biscuits.'

'I want to be a clown, because clowns are always happy.'

'Are you not happy, then?' I asked

'Not when my daddy's at home.'

'Why?' I asked. She zipped her lips so tight together, her lips paled out. She hid her little face in her hands and rocked and rocked on the stool, I couldn't access her face to paint. I asked her to lift her head up and when she did, tears were streaming down her face and the base coat had been practically rubbed off. I knew that body language all too well and it frightened me.

I told the little girl to unfasten her lips as I needed to paint around them.

"If you need to talk to someone about something, if something is happening to you, don't be scared to tell a grown up.' Inside I was praying she wouldn't tell me, I couldn't cope with that kind of information. 'No one will tell on you. But please talk to someone, please." I squeezed her knee. But I couldn't shake the bad feeling that came off this little girl. I didn't know whether to believe myself and report it, or if anyone would believe me. For all they knew, I could have been making it up! _But what if that little girl was in danger at home?_

Thankfully it was her mum's hand she took as she milled about the playground all afternoon. Her mother was a tall scraggly haired woman - gaunt and scruffy, probably a user. After a couple of hours one of the teenagers relieved me and I took a break. I went and found Mrs Ross. I took her to one side and shared my concerns about the little blonde girl. She got me to point her out in the playground. I felt like a grass, but something told me that this was important and that my concerns were valid. It left a dirty stain on my insides. Whatever the daddy in that family was doing, I knew it was definitely - a secret.

Looking back over that little conversation, was when I started to think about what Hope and Tia might say about our family, once outside it. I talked to April about this and she reassured me that children say the funniest things, and not to take anything too seriously. That didn't soothe me. I became quite troubled about this. The fact that Jerro and I didn't communicate at all, and that the girls spent their lives in front of the TV, was not good news to a stranger. We did try to make it a positive environment to bring up the children in, but most of the time we were walking around on glass around each other.

Chapter Thirteen

When I was at the gym, none of the women acknowledged me, but a few of the men started to smile and say hello. This was kind of nice, as I had always felt really alone in this group of beautiful bodies - pumping away. My skinny frame was becoming toned and as James Brown said, ' _I_ was _feeling_ _good_.'

In fact I was feeling quite high at times. The three times a week soon became a daily event and my face became known with the regulars. Jim P took a shine to me and as our sessions coincided, we began to share the odd glare in the mirrors. He introduced himself and after one brief session we went for a coffee together. Jim P was a funny white lad from London. He was probably around thirty years old, tanned, buff, firm and fit. He had moved up north, many years ago, to start a new life in the area. He had been a marine and he had managed to wangle his way into a job on the Fleetwood lifeboats. He had a partner and a child \- a little boy. Our conversation was light and breathy; our behaviour was spontaneous and magnetic. I don't think we even managed to finish our coffee that first day. Our lustful sweaty bodies found each other in nanoseconds, inside the joint changing rooms. He dragged me into an open shower cubicle.

It all went so passionately fast. We had walked into the changing area, the single cubicles were empty, and there was only one middle-aged gentleman with a headset on, clearing away his belongings. He was dressed with his towel wrapped over his arm; he hauled his load of toiletries into his bag and left the shower area. Jim lightly put his hand around the back of my waist and with our eyes clasping each other, he fed my unwashed body into the awaiting cubicle.

Out of sight of the world our lips met and our hands scrambled for each other's intimate places. His hungry kisses lit up the sparking in my groin. My nipples began to pulsate wanting to be touched, my unkneaded breasts begged for him. He lifted my sweat vest and raised the cup of my bra. His mouth was on my nipples and his hands were everywhere, grasping my backside, and then racing along my waist. Down the front of my panties and under my crotch. His teeth bit hard on my nipples. I shuddered from head to toe. He mouthed,

'I want you, I - so -want you!'

My crotch reached forwards to feel for his throbbing manhood. It was pressed up against my lower abdomen, now I wanted to feel it inside my body, inside my mouth. I tried to gain some space between us. I leaned back and pushed him away a little. However, he was strong and in charge. He started to rip my gym vest off - over my head. His manliness was becoming neediness. I felt more alive than I had in years. It was like the feral beast in me was being released. As he held my hands above my head, he yanked my sports bra up and over my breasts and sucked hard again. It was beginning to hurt. He bit down, my nipples were red raw. I squirmed with painful pleasure as he pinioned me on the wall of the cubicle, too alarmed to move or call out. My desire was becoming mixed up with dread and fear.

'Jim, be gentle. You're hurting me.'

'You asked for this, now you're getting it.' He smiled right through me.

A bolt of terror ran up my spine but I wanted him, I wanted his cock inside me. I needed him to fuck me senseless. Had I read it wrong? He was harmless, a gorgeous hunk who at that moment wanted me more than anything in the world. I sought his mouth, and latched onto his shoulder, I suckled on it. He pushed me back and re-pinned me up against the wall of the cubicle and I could not move or get away, but felt that I was on fire. Blood was rushing through my body engorging all my senses. Part of me wanted to kick him and run away, but his ripe cock made me want more. Our kisses and thrusting into each other were animalistic. He rammed his bulging cock into my lower abdomen as his hips ground me tighter into the wall. His spare hand dived down into my gym panties and lunged into my wet, lubricated vagina. His rock hard fingers felt good, as they probed deep within me. I let out a moan as he yanked my panties down, turned me around, then he gagged me with one hand, whispering deeply,

'I need to fuck you hard, Sam!' His words made wild sensations prickle my skin on my neck.

From behind, he ground into me with his stumpy thick cock. His hand was still over my mouth as I groaned with pain. He pounded harder within me, whimpering in ecstasy. I whined silently to myself. After a couple of minutes of surrendering to his girth, his hands clasped at my breasts, he clung to me, shimmying and rocking harder inside and faster, it was hurting. He slapped my arse really hard, I squealed. My waggling breasts were gripped tight as he caved deeper for the final time and exploded and withdrew from me. He pushed me to one side like he needed to get past me. My body was shuddering, my legs shaking. I moved towards him for some compassion, but there was none, he had his gym shorts back on before I could blink. My backside stung where had slapped me, as his sperm dripped down my leg. He smiled and said,

'That was nice,' and left the cubicle. I just stood there.

Inside, my mind was in a blur. I replayed the whole scene. I was absorbed in the throes of lustful sex yet I was left feeling dirty and used. I tried to fathom it out. Have I just had sex with Jim P? Or was I raped?

Afterwards, in such a confused state of mind, I drove to the supermarket, collected the girls from school and carried on as if nothing had happened. I felt like I was living in a dream. Cor, he was hot but I never thought in a million years I would have ever met someone and fucked them within ten minutes, not today, straight and sober in broad daylight, and without being paid.

Moralistic April baffled me; she actually thought it was amazing.

'Good on you Sammy!' was her response, 'about time you had a good old servicing!' But the strange thing was, I didn't feel as if I had had a good kind of sorting out. I felt dirty. That night I scrubbed and scrubbed him off me.

However, the following Tuesday, Jim P was back in the gym glaring at me in the mirrors, he had a wicked glint in his eye. Licking his lips, he winked every time he caught my eye. He kept tilting his head and egging me to come over and join him.

I decided to keep myself to myself and turned my iPod up louder and tried as hard as I could to blank him out. When he was working out on the heavier weights, I made a quick exit and sped down the corridor to the changing rooms. The changing area was still. Only one lady was in there, blissfully singing to herself in a cubicle. I put my key into my locker door, opened it and grabbed my collection of clothes from within. As I turned to face the cubicle in front of me, Jim P caught me in his grasp.

'Hey, lucky lady, you not showering today?'

'No, I have to rush, get the girls, get the shopping.' My resolve waned as instantly I felt bubbles of naughtiness bursting in my tummy. I wanted him.

He leaned into my ear, his breath caressed my cheek, his hands traced my hip bones and began to massage my pussy. He was intoxicating.

'Sammy, I missed you.' He heavily breathed the words into my ear. 'You are so beautiful.' His fingers were tickling my pussy. I could feel myself being hoovered into his world.

'Want me to show you what I've got for you?' He pushed my hand onto his cock. It was rock hard. It felt good, he wanted me. I was desired. I began to stroke it, up and down, over his gym shorts, up and down. He held me tight, suckling onto my neck, his hand moved onto my back. His overpowering frame cocooned me into his girth as he stepped me backwards into the cubicle. Within seconds we were inside. As if a baseball, he pushed my clothing down to the wet floor, I glared wide-eyed at the man who was about to take me.

'I don't think this is right Jim?'

'Oh, it is so-fucking-right Sam. I want you, you want me. What's there to think about? We're adults.'

With his large left hand he clasped my neck, moved my head towards him and gripped my mouth with his. His tongue pushed deep within my thin-lipped grimace. I wanted to back away, but I surrendered and tried to join in. I was frightened. His other hand tore my gym-shorts free, they simply slid down my sweaty body. His mouth moved to my nipples and bit hard into them. He pulled them long with his teeth. Painful, yet the sting pulsed in my clitoris. With my hands on his shoulders, he yanked at his shorts and pulled them down at the front. His pounding erection was exposed and aimed at me. He turned me around and made me bend over onto all fours and stick my butt into the air. His hand covered my mouth as his cock thundered into my dry tight pussy. The pain was excruciating. I bit hard onto the fleshy part of his hand, but he did not flinch. I longed to free myself to beg him to lubricate the area, to give me a fucking chance to enjoy it. But, I could not. I was clamped like a mating cat, into the best position, to be ridden. Within seconds he exploded within me, slapped my arse and said,

'Quick, get yourself together.' Then he was gone.

He left an air of shame with me, it covered me from head to toe. I felt like an electrified patient, confused and throbbing. Fixated, I glared at the open doorway, I wanted my mum to come and rescue me! As I scrunched my knees in tight, I rocked on the bench. They would not stop shaking. Tears travelled down the fronts of my legs. A young mum from the school fiddled with her locker key in front of me. I bargained with God, not to let her turn around. But she did. Her eyebrows frowned at me.

'You alright?' From somewhere I found a smile.

'Yeh, exhausted, think I've done too much today.'

'Me - never.' She joked. 'I hate the gym, just like watching the men. Ha ha.' She giggled and grabbed her things and went into the next cubicle. As the plastic door slammed into place, my teeth stood on end.

Slowly I managed to pull myself together, get out of the building and put some distance between me and Jim P. I arrived outside the school gates - early for once.

April was there, her questioning smile begged me to spill the beans.

'You been to the gym hen?' She grinned at me like a cow.

'Wanna talk to your old Aunty April about it?' I reflected her smile back and with great bravado gave her a lip chewing, naughty grin.

'Cor, that face could tell a million tales!' she winked.

Even though I knew that what had happened in the changing rooms was wrong and that there was a 99% chance that I had been raped again that day, there was that 1% of me which had really enjoyed it. It was safely erotic! I told myself I could have been an actor in a live porn movie.

It kept flashing back at me. Girl empties her locker, stud takes her into a changing room, she is all feared up as his rippling body pounds her with his beautiful horny cock. All that mattered in those few seconds was 'his desire'. He wanted her and no one else on the planet. So I reasoned I had been kind of lucky - in a way.

Yeh, I could have thought of it as rape and that I was a victim, but never in my whole fucking life had I had such passionate unpaid horny sex. It was ludicrously terrifying, yet totally freeing. I never wanted it again, but then I wanted it all the time. In Jim P's eyes I was a wanted woman. So how the fuck was I ever going to explain this to anyone if I couldn't even qualify it to myself?

The following Tuesday it took guts to go back to the gym. Jim P was not anywhere to be seen, not in the gym, or in the pool. I secretly wanted him to be, but I was a bit miffed that he wasn't. My work-out dragged and it wasn't much fun that day. As I sluggishly traversed to the changing room, I collected my belongings, placed them on the bench and with towel and shower gel, went back to the shower area and found an empty cubicle. With my belongings securely on the dry bench I turned to slide the lock. The door opened on its own. I pushed it back but it was being pushed from the other side. Jim P's thick hand connected with mine, he was dressed in his dark pin-striped suit. He was breathtaking. I wanted to scream, but his hand clasped my mouth, his hungry eyes bored into mine. I stood rigid.

'You not pleased to see me, Sammy?' He released his hand and carried on looking longingly at me.

'I don't want this,' I managed to stutter.

He locked the door behind him. 'Shush, Sammy, you love it, you know you do.'

'I don't want this. Listen to me.' I wanted to spit at him, but something stopped me. His lips pounded into mine. His tongue probed deep in my mouth. Inside my head, my inner voice was saying, I don't want this, I don't want this as his hands found my pussy and he swirled my clitoris with his skilled fingers. I found myself bending into him and ripping my own top off and curling my finger to his nose. Naughtiness came over me. I dared myself to say it.

'Come and fuck me, fuck me hard, you dirty bad boy!' His eyes sparkled at the invite, he clenched my breasts hard and ripped my bra above them. I wobbled, by accident and pressed the shower control button on the wall and water spurted out at us.

He quickly undid his jacket and flung it over the dry wall, his shirt soon became see-through, his pectoral muscles glistening with the wetness. I grasped his muscles and tried my darnedest to undo the buttons. I wanted to feel his chest on mine, yet my nails became hurdles to my wantonness. He moved in towards me and uncovered his throbbing member. Still holding onto my breasts he gruffly pushed my head down towards his groin. He told me to suck it. In the rush of water, I bent over and took it into my mouth. He sighed with relief as he slowly began to fuck my mouth. His hand pulled my hair to one side as he watched every mouthful I took. My hands travelled to my groin and I began to finger myself firmly. He watched as I rubbed and twirled under his power. His grasp on my head was tight but painless as he pulsated deeper into my mouth. I began to gag for air, I retched. He withdrew and released me. The water was still lashing over, my gym shorts had now stuck to me as if vacuumed. I peeled myself free from my shorts and he lifted me up and, chest-to-chest, he fucked me up against the wall. I fought for air under the cascading hot shower.

'Anyone in there?' We heard a strange deep male voice.

'Yeh, mate, what you want?" Jim P bellowed.

'Everything alright?'

'Yeh mate.'

'Alright mate!' echoed the attendant.

As there were only two legs visible from under the shower cubicle, the attendant must have thought Jim was alone and left the changing area pronto. Jim P, pulled his wet suit trousers up onto his waist and buckled himself up, before exiting the cubicle. As I escaped to the changing area, I could hear the hum of the pressured hand dryers as he was drying his suit, next door. I chuckled to myself.

It took me ages to get myself back together before walking past him with his creased white rag of a shirt blowing under the hot hand dryer.

'You alright, Jim P?

'Yeh, got a bit wet in the shower,' he chuckled.

I left the gym feeling powerful, elated, sexy and free. It wasn't rape, I'd been in charge today. _Fuck it - we were both adults - it was just a bit of fun!_

I was looking really healthy said April when she saw me. She begged me for saucy details, but I never spilled that day.

(A) -because it was too fucking naughty and she would be horrified.

(B) - I was never quite sure if I actually had a voice, in what was happening down the gym.

It was confusing. All I knew was that once a week, I didn't have to be on this boring planet with Jerro and for ten minutes Jim P wanted me like a man should do. He made me feel like a woman. Good or bad, his cock became my drug of choice. I decided I was going to live for Tuesdays.

As the weeks went by, I was convinced that Jim P had done this before. All the attendants were in on it. They had never blinked an eye at us when we went into the shower blocks separately and used the same shower. I was passing through the turnstile in the reception area one day and the Manager called me over.

'Please Miss, may I have a word?' I looked around, but there was no one else there. I realised he was talking to me. I smiled, followed him behind the counter and took a seat opposite him in his office.

From under my false eyelashes, I looked over the desk at him.

He looked sternly at me. My heart shook.

'I will say this once and once only. I know your type.' I sat up in my seat.

'To put it bluntly - you are not welcome in this establishment. Don't you ever cross the doorway of my leisure centre again or ..... I will call the police!' He stood up and ushered me out of his office and watched with his hands on his hips as I left the building without saying a word.

Aghast, I cried shame filled tears in my car. A few minutes later, Jim P walked past the cars in front of me. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world of what I had been through as he casually swung his gym bag. I curled my head down to my knees so he wouldn't see me - ever again. For the first time in my life I felt raw humiliation. Ashamed and exhausted from the exhilaration and reality of this whole situation, I headed home to buy a bottle of wine. Thankfully my phone rang and April asked if I could pick up Lucy for her.

At the school gates I was still in a state of shock.

I dropped Lucy at their front door, April looked horrified, when she saw me, her eyes spoke volumes. She held out her hands.

'What the hell has happened to you? Come on in, Samantha. How about you girls play upstairs while us Mummy's have a chat!' The girls sped off, up the stairs and were gone in seconds.

After spilling the past few months of eroticism to April, she looked more worried. Her words confirmed my deepest darkest fears. She believed that I had been raped too.

'But once I got into it, April, I did have some power. It was amazing sex?' I begged her to be realistic.

'Honey, call it what you want, but if I was you, I would be phoning the police, not phoning a friend - or even asking the audience!' I tried to laugh along with her, but I knew she was right. I had known it all along.

'My God, Samantha, you are SO starving for some love and attention, you need to have this out with Jerro. If you can't talk to the police, talk to him and find out why the fuck he doesn't give you any attention or respect.' Her protective words made me realise that I was worth something to her. I was beginning to see some of my own self-worth. I cried and wailed like never before. It felt like my innards were being ripped out, contracting as the last embers of my low self-worth were being dragged out of me. She held me gently in her arms.

'Let it out girl, let it out. I know. I know!' she whispered as the tears and gluey snot fell into my lap.

When Jerro came home from work, he looked at me like I was something he had scraped off the bottom of his shoe. I turned my back and locked myself in the bathroom. I must have been there quite a long time as he came outside, knocking the door.

'Samantha, everything alright?' I couldn't be arsed answering. 'Wanna coffee?'

'Ok.' My mind began to race. _What the hell was he after now?_

As I climbed up onto the barstool in the kitchen, he was pouring out the coffee. Our eyes did not meet. 'You sure you're all right?'

'Uh, hu.' I replied, still looking at my feet.

'Here's your coffee. Is there something you are not telling me?' He lifted my hair back off my face.

'Don't touch me. What do you want?'

'Samantha, I'm worried about you. You've been ignoring me for months.' I was aghast. Should I tell him or lunge at him? I decided to just thank him for the coffee and take it up to my room. He offered to put the girls to bed for me. While they brushed their teeth I interrupted him and told him that 'we needed to talk'. After he had finished telling them one of his mythical stories of the sun and the moon from old Nigerian folklore, the girls must have nodded off. He put his head around the bedroom door.

'Sam, what the fuck has happened to you? You look awful!'

Chapter Fourteen

'Jerro, I'm so lost, I'm so lonely. I am struggling man. Struggling to keep it together.' I groaned through tears. For once Jerro listened, without kicking off. I told him about the insane emptiness that ran through me. I told him that I'd known about Collette and him for ages and that I didn't care. But I had needs too. I needed to belong somewhere and if he didn't want to be with me, he should leave. 'I'm sick of this life, of waiting for what everyone else takes for granted. It's natural to love and be loved and I'm not, however hard I try. I'm sick of waiting for love. I'm not that bad a person, surely someone can love me. But you never will. So we should end this crazy relationship and give each other a chance at having some happiness and the girls too.' His face was long and drawn. 'I need someone to enjoy being with me.' He sat speechless, not guilty. I had no energy left in me to fight, to be right.

I confessed that I missed the girls on the streets, and Janice and Sonya, and strangely, even Collette's friendship. Then I told him, I missed his companionship but most of all I missed drugs and I missed my own smile. I told him I missed his smile. I saw it when he looked at the girls, but he never smiled for me. He was still listening. I then told him that out of everyone on this planet, I was the only one he was hard and cruel with. His head rocked back on his neck as his face began bulging and pinking with shame.

I continued, telling him that I felt really unwanted and undervalued, but mostly alone. Alone in a world full of smiling people who had love to give and I was surrounded by hate and resentment.

When he found his words, his reply swallowed me up whole.

'Samantha, I love you more than life itself, you are the mother of my children, but I don't know why, but I hate you. I hate to love you?'

_'What the fuck!'_ I tried to comprehend what he was telling me.

'I can't love you - I just can't.' He hid his mouth with his hands.

As if my head wasn't bursting enough! I had to take on board his shit. _He loved me but hated to love me. What the fuck was all that about?_ I was raging like an inferno inside.

'What the fuck are you on about, Jerro, you hate to love me! What the fuck does that fucking mean?' He flumped onto the bedroom carpet, crouching into a foetal position and began crying. He tried to talk but couldn't get his words out. From his spluttering, I managed to glean some sense;

'Everything I love - turns to shit. Everything except the girls. Except you. But you Sam. You make sure that nothing will ever happen to them. That way everything works.'

'So, that's alright then, Jerro.' I snapped. For once I was boss. 'You better start explaining what the fuck you are on about, Jerro.' I dived off the bed and stood above him. Then I pulled his hands away from his face. 'It's all about you, hey?' I'm telling you about me and now it's all about you. You're fucking deluded!'

I wanted to kick him. I remembered him raping me in Stockport, raping Sonya, and now he was wanting sympathy after I'd made myself vulnerable to him again?

I was shaking him by the shoulders. 'What the fuck are you on about. You're a fucking liar and a cheat, and you hate to love me?' My voice was rich with sarcasm. 'I'm the mother of your fucking kids.' I saw myself shaking from head to toe. I punched him in the legs. He curled up tighter. I continued to scream at him. I couldn't stop.

I don't know for how long, but eventually I burned out and sank to my knees and tried to calm myself down.

'Samantha, I have to tell you something. Something that happened a long time ago. Please come downstairs and I will get us a drink.' My throat was dry as I led the way.

'This better be good!' I shouted back at him. 'This better be good.'

'Want me to go to the Off Licence, Sam?'

'No!' I snapped.

He wanted to talk. He began by reaching out to hold my hand. I clenched both of fists tight. I wasn't going to console him; he was probably going to tell me about all his poor prostitute stories. But he didn't. He told me that when we first met that he had lied to me, he had told me he was an only child, but that wasn't true, he had once had a brother that died. This softened my mood. His brother was called Ade, they had the same age difference as Hope and Tia. He had named his son, Aden, after him.

When they were children, aged around seven and eight, Ade and Jerro lived on the same ranch and spent their days getting up to no end of trouble. The more danJerro -us the stunt, the better. One day they had been playing in the tree house out back, hanging from branches and swinging like baboons. Which at that age seemed like death defying acts of bravery or stupidity. The harvest had been taken in and everyone was in a holiday mood. Ma was busy indoors with the breeding cats and Ade had sneaked a box of matches from the kitchen drawer. They felt like they'd got the biggest secret in the world. Ade decided that he would build a bonfire to the side of the Pompon (it was a bit like an apple tree that blossoms). Being so young they were not very good at lighting fires. Before long, they were down to the last match. Jerro had an idea. There was a bottle of firelighter in the garage.

The twigs, leaves and paper only made small flames. The firelighter liquid would really get it going \- good and proper, he thought. But when Jerro got to the garage, the liquid had all evaporated. Not leaving empty-handed, he found some aerosol cans of paint. Jerro and Ade lobbed them into the fire. Some just fizzed but some exploded like rockets, banging and flying high. They made an amazing whizzing sound. Jerro and Ade jumped and screamed with delight.

Ade ran off to get more cans, but came back with their Dad's petrol canister. He threw it on the weakening flames.

'Caboom! We have lift off!' he shouted and those were his last words.

As the petrol touched the flames, a flash of fire surrounded Ade. Covering his face - his clothes - his hair. He was blinded. A loud piercing scream left his body and Ma came running out shouting.

'Roll him! Roll him!'

Jerro cringed and hid behind his hands as he continued to burn. He was running round, circling, with this high-pitched shriek. He was engulfed in flames, and Jerro was too frightened to go near him. He just stood and watched. His mother's voice was ringing in his ears. Eventually her words made sense to him, and he dived on top of Ade and pushed him to the ground. He rolled and rolled him on the grass, until the red flames turned into black smoke. His charred body lay silent on top of the sooty earth. Jerro watched as Ade's skin bubbled into blisters before his very own eyes.

His mother's glued back face screamed for help. Jerro and Ma watched as Ade's breathing became shallower - his eyes became fixated on the sun. Jerro got the fire bucket and emptied it all over Ade, he ran back to the house to get some more water and when the bucket eventually filled up, he turned to see his Ma giving Ade the kiss of life. In between breaths she was calling out to God for her son to be saved. Jerro watched his wailing mother lift his brother's charred body like an old sack and try to force life into it, but to no avail. Ade died in her arms. Jerro knew it was his fault. He should have saved him. He was trembling as he watched his mother collapse to her knees with Ade's corpse sprawled over her apron.

Ever since Ade's last words –Caboom, Caboom - repeatedly fired through his head like a machine gun. When he got angry, it got louder. Jerro had had to blank it out, Ade wouldn't have wanted him to be morbid. 'Move on' would be his advice. So he did, he moved on, he stayed on his own, he didn't make friends at school never tried as he got older, and stayed solo in work. He'd concentrated on getting good grades at the English school that Ma had sent him too. At 16 he started an internship at Microsoft and worked his way up the ladder. He had a well-paid job, which funded a good lifestyle. He travelled and did what he wanted. He never had any intentions of ever getting attached to anyone. But hookers were a completely different ballgame, he could love them and leave them. But when he had met me everything changed. He said he'd have been a total dick to have fallen in love with me. But when the girls came along, the closer we became, the more he had to fight his feelings. Then he said.

'When I left Nigeria in late December, I had decided that I had to start to have a better relationship with you. Back home on TV one day, Ma was watching that Texan, Dr Phil. I overheard him saying; 'You cannot change what you don't acknowledge!' This hit me like a bolt out of the blue and revolved around inside my head. I began thinking and thinking. My brain wouldn't stop thinking. Recalling the fire and reliving the traumatic situation whilst looking at the girls, who were of a similar age made me compute that - as a man - I couldn't possibly have been responsible for everything. I started to see it all as tragic accident instead of a murder. I'd never got up that day and thought, _today I will kill my brother._ No it was an accident, two boys – matches - and petrol.

It was lovely coming home Sam. It was all homely and welcoming. You were overjoyed to see us all. It was like I had always dreamed. Although my dreams soon became shattered when Collette informed me that we had had visitors over Christmas. For the two steps I had taken forward, I had to take three steps back. At first I thought it was your old dealer, Kez. But no, it was bloody debt collectors. I had forgotten all about them. I had believed there were only a few parking tickets before I went but, Oh, No, this was you we were talking about.' We both laughed. 'You don't do anything by halves. I understand that you didn't dare tell me, especially after Scotland! You are very creative you know. - But realistically, the ones with the winnings on had probably only cost me - to buy - about £30.' I sat back so relieved.

His eyes looked to mine for comfort. 'I'm so sorry Samantha.'

He then told me that Ade was buried under the Pompon tree alongside the kittens that didn't make it through Ma's Cattery programme.

Somehow everything seemed to click into place. His behaviour began to make sense. He was scared to love me, to need me, to even care! He was as fucked up as me! He was as scared of losing the girls and me, as I was of losing him and the girls. I felt a bizarre kind of togetherness. Our evening flew by as we talked into the early hours. When daylight broke he phoned in work and told them, he was sick. Together, we dropped the girls at nursery and school then went home. Emotionally exhausted we needed to catch up on some much needed sleep.

At 3pm, April, and not to mention Collette, were stunned when they saw me and Tia with Jerro, waiting at the school gates. April gave me a smile and a sly thumbs up signal, I returned it with a wink and a hand to my ear signal, motioning, that I would call her later. However later didn't come. When we returned to the house and settled the girls down for the night, Jerro asked me about my childhood.

He had never been interested in my past before. I had kept it locked away for so long, especially from him, I had to decide if I could trust him with it, or not. Nervously I began;

'You know I was put into care as a kid, well that was because my Mum was addicted to drugs and alcohol.'

'I guessed that.' He replied.

'A lot of horrible things happened to me for a lot of different reasons, mainly my mother's drinking, drugging and the people she hanged around with. I got passed around, promised a lot and got let down a lot. I was pushed around and interfered with by strangers. Do I have to tell you. Can't it wait?' I begged, my shackles were up I didn't want to tell him anymore. His hand caressed my knee cap and he said.

'Ok Sam, if you want to tell me, I'm here for you.' I nodded. I wasn't able to talk to him about it just yet. What was the point? It was all history. But weirdly, I realised that he had listened and so far hadn't criticised me. He was actually caring for me!

The first time I looked at the clock that night, it was nearly one thirty am. We had been talking again for hours. Jerro suggested I sleep alone and spend some time reflecting on these last two days. I wanted him to come to bed with me, but he held me close and said,

'Let's just take this one step at a time. I need some space, I feel raw.'

'I do too.' He kissed me tenderly on my forehead and patted my shoulders. His touch was as tender as the touch he had for the girls. The following morning, Jerro brought me a cup of tea into the bedroom, before announcing that, he had got the girls ready and would be home soon, so I was to enjoy a lie in. When he returned I asked him about his life in Nigerian with his parents.

'Ma was a goal driven woman, succeeding in everything she put her hand too. She brought us boys up well - single handedly, after Pa got shot by the snipers when poaching on someone else's land.

'Stupid bastard' she'd always call him, you don't go on anyone else's land in Nigeria, I will tell you. But nothing would stop her achieving. It was difficult living just outside Kano, we were pretty vulnerable, especially living with a single parent. But Ma was a good shot with her rifle. She chased off many a trespasser. Ma was an entrepreneur and made a fortune from breeding Sphinx kittens. They would sell for a couple of hundred naira. The ones that didn't make it, were all buried alongside Ade. I think he would have liked that.' I nodded agreeing.

'I had a sphinx cat in one of my foster homes, I always wrapped it in a blanket to keep it warm.' He laughed. For the first time in years since the toilet paper incident, I saw his smile again.

However, Jerro continued and told me about the legacy of nightmares, panic attacks and paranoid voices he hears from time to time. He had never told me this before, he was going through the same haunting as me, and we hadn't even told each other. He was riddled with guilt, just like me. For things that were out of his control too.

From that day I began to see Jerro in a different light. How was he to know? How was he to know that the fire that took place all those years ago had controlled his whole life. No wonder he was a raw angry man. It controlled every breath he took, his career, every choice he made and had not made, in his whole life. The fire that claimed his brother's life, had also tried - in all its intensity to take Jerro's life and his future. I felt sorry for him. He needed some help with this too. I suggested we speak to the doctor and get some counselling or something.

'How can they help, how can anyone help me.' He asked, wide eyed.

'You have to try Jerro.' I kissed his forehead.

'But Sam, how can I deal with this pain, how can I be free of it?'

'You try - Jerro! Because you're worth it!'

In the morning, we dropped the girls at school and sat holding hands, as we waited in the GP's waiting room. Eventually, we were called in to see Dr Stevens. Dressed in black trousers and an open collar, Dr Stevens welcomed us in with a friendly smile. He listened intently to every word that came from our mouths. Reflecting back, marital problems, childhood trauma, possible post traumatic stress disorder, counselling, social services, happy children and moving forward together. We gripped hands as we realised, someone else cared. He uummed and arghed, then said,

'To be frank. You both sound ready and in the right place in your lives to be dealing with these traumatic issues. However and it is a big However. The NHS has a huge waiting list for counselling and psychological support. I can add you to the list but I warn you, it will be at least a six month wait.' We glared at each other in shock, tears dripped down our cheeks, the doctor saw our desperation. 'However, I do have an idea. I believe you two are ideal candidates for a research programme which is running this year and for two more years, based at Blackpool Polytechnic. I will have to look for the date, for you.' He began to rummage through the leaflets that were splayed on his desk. 'Ah, there it is. Before I say any more, I would like you to sit outside whilst I make a quick phone call.' As the minutes passed Jerro and I held onto each other and bargained with God, begging him to hear our cry for help.

Dr Stevens' door opened, and with one hand in his pocket, he ushered us back into his surgery. 'Ok, where were we?' Sitting on the edge of our seats, Jerro and I listened as Doctor Stevens relayed his previous telephone conversation.

'I have some good news for you, Jerro and Samantha. There are a few places left on the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - Psychological Study, he passed us his leaflet. It was run by students from universities including Manchester, Liverpool and Lancaster. It was a five year research project, for sufferers of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was an intense twelve month therapeutic course, ran by counselling and psychological professionals and the students who would collect data, results and statistics. The successes and failures of the treatments available were logged by students who were studying for their PHD's in Psychology and therapeutic practise. This year's starting date was in two weeks time and there were three places left.

'How does that sound?' He asked.

'Do birds fly?' replied Jerro.

'Ok.' Dr Stevens agreed, 'Let's make this happen!'

The next day we left the Polytechnic, armed with enough information to sink a battle ship. We had spent three draining hours, being assessed, informed about what the programme included, the time commitments and the home work which was involved. We signed confidentiality contracts, commitment contracts, data protection forms, permission forms, loads and loads of forms. We were ready.

Smiling through our battered souls we knew that the old life and the new life were going to have two separate identities.

Holding hands instead of locking heads, we walked slowly back to the car.

As we chatted we both realized that we did not know anything about each other. Even though we had lived under the same roof for years, we didn't even know how each other ticked. We were definitely in a sad old sorry state, but now there was a light in the darkness. We had a chance at starting all over again.

*

Jerro's story

On the programmes we learnt that relationships have to meet the needs and desires of each partner. In the beginning, our needs had all been about sex. I learnt I had sex to get rid of my anger. Then we became parents, sex was a chore for her. We needed each other for the girls sake. I had to take on the role of father/protector, otherwise Social Services would have taken them off us. I couldn't be a single parent like Ma, I wasn't strong enough. I needed to work and Samantha was fine to be left for a few hours a day in charge of the girls, until eventually - her drinking got so bad, she was poisoning the whole family with her rage and behaviour.

In the beginning I was planning to go to Nigeria and never bring the girls back. I believed that Ma would have helped me. But standing by Ade's grave, made me realise, that he would not have wanted my kids taken away from their Mummy. I promised my brother that I would go back and try to make it work. I needed to live for him, for me and for Sam and the girls. I had to make it work.

I learnt that at every point in my life when I was in a state of conflict, I would react and never respond. I was a hot head, I had to control that rage. Sometimes the decisions I made, had maybe not hurt me, but had hurt others. I had always lived being a right fighter, I'd never practised humility and never forgiven anyone. I soon learnt that asking for a hug and saying sorry had a better result that fighting to be right. had never ever considered anyone's feelings, to be honest, I was so numb until this programme, I'd never felt feelings never mind took anyone else's feelings into consideration. Being humble and loving, opened the door open to begin again with Samantha. After all - How easy is it to hug a porcupine!

Another thing I had to look at was my huge ego. I had treated Samantha like a piece of shit for the better part of the last seven years. I admit, I gave her no value or status, apart from her being 'my lay' and a pretty good child minder. I'm ashamed to admit that now, but I believed it down to my core, for all those years. I believed I had rescued her from the gutter. But in hindsight, she had rescued me, she had never judged me, she had always stood by me when I'd done things wrong. She hadn't even thought about taking the girls away from me. I had planned it and tried it!

Through the one to one sessions that I had with my therapist, I realised how my past had made me so defensive until I had been backed into a corner so tight, I had to take a good hard look at myself, my actions and my words. Not only did I have to enter the grieving process over Ade, I had to let go of my anger too. I didn't know how to live without being angry. I had been a victim turned victimiser. They taught me constructive ways of releasing my anger by talking, exercising, letting out steam by locking myself away and beating up pillows, I liked mattresses better. Sam and the girls soon got used to me saying that I was going upstairs to beat the bed up.

I apologised to Samantha for everything and she graciously forgave me, just like that! She was a stronger person that I'd ever been. I soon began to admire her. Once my hate blinkers started to come down, I started to see her real beauty, her patience, her devotion, her trust and love for herself and the girls. I'd only seen what society asks you to look for - tits and teeth, not inner beauty. It was like meeting a new person. She really was a remarkable woman, again I had to apologise to her.

One day I jokingly plucked up the courage to ask Samantha, what sort of man she would like me to be. Her reply flummoxed me -

'Jerro, just be yourself!'

Samantha started to write poetry and one day she read a poem in one of the psychobabble magazines, it said:

I didn't like myself, I tried to change, everyone around me told me to change, I tried to change, but I couldn't change.

My parents told me to change, my friends told me to change, I had to change, but however hard I tried - I could not change. Then one day God said, 'Don't change. Don't change. Don't change.'

Just like her, we reckoned God had brought us together to cure each other. Like birds of a feather, we stuck together.

We realised that we were born pure like everyone else on this earth and life and circumstances had changed us and we were now at the point in our lives where we were in control and not the other way round. That was what Dr Stevens had said -

'You two are ready for this.'

I knew that if I had dealt with my grief earlier, my whole life would have been completely different. I learnt constructive ways of releasing my anger by talking, exercising, letting out steam by locking myself away and beating up pillows - I liked mattresses better. Sam and the girls soon got used to me saying that I was going upstairs to beat the bed up.

Chapter Fourteen

Part of the programme was about asking for forgiveness and one day Jerro put his arms around me.

'Sam, we need to talk.' This sounded ominous.

'Have I done something wrong?'

'No stupid, it's me, I need to talk to you about something that's came up in group today. Don't look too worried, it's not about you, it's about something I did when we first met.'

I rationalised that nothing could have been as bad as my relapses and going back on the streets. His confession wouldn't break me, after all it was history.

He begged me to sit down and listen.

'The way I see it, Jerro, whatever's happened is history.'

'Sam, shut up, my love, and listen, I need to tell you this.'

My heart sank as I waited.

With sunken shoulders and a guilty looking face, Jerro stuttered as he told me that when we had lived in Stockport, he had gone around to Janice's house one night and they had ended up having sex. There were tears of shame in his eyes as he told me that he was so sorry. I couldn't speak. He waited for me to acknowledge what he had admitted. But for once, I could have hit him. I had to walk out and process what he had just said. He came running after me.

'You slept with Janice!' I screamed. 'Shagged Janice!'

'It was a one off, only once. Sam, you have to believe me.'

I got the car keys and drove off. I couldn't look at him.

I must have been sat on the seafront a long time because I saw light piercing through the night sky. I'd lost Janice as a friend, and for all those years, he'd known why. I believed I'd done something wrong and that was why she wouldn't talk to me and the truth was, it was him. How could he have done that to me? When I walked into the house, he had been sat up all night waiting for me.

'I didn't do it to you, it just happened. You have to believe me. I'm so sorry.'

'Bet you are.' I stormed off, hurling the bedroom door at the frame.

Luckily I had a one-to-one that day. I took this into my one-to-one session. She asked me why it hurt so much. I gave a thousand reasons but the main reason was that I had lost my friend and he had known why and hadn't told me. I didn't care that they had had sex, flipping heck, Janice and I were both the same there! It was the fact that he had known all those years and in a way, had been betraying me every day, by not telling me why. He had watched me suffer and that was a sickness of the mind. I had lost my best friend, and the love and trust of Dwaine and Sasha and he knew and played God over the whole situation.

When he came home, I told him what had hurt me was the deceitful and unforgivable. He apologised again then went on to confess that Janice was not the only friend I had lost because of him. He admitted to having sex with Sonya.

'She was a kid.'

'I know, I'm so sorry.'

'Why, Jerro?'

'Because every time I get angry about anything, I end up fucking someone, anyone. It's the only thing that calms me down.'

'So I lose all my friends because you are angry.' He nodded.

'You better be asking for help from this group.' I went to storm out of the kitchen but he grabbed my arm.

'Sam, I am really, really sorry. Please can you find it in your heart to forgive me?' I carried on walking.

I was hurt. Once I had calmed down and replayed the whole thing through my head I had to be honest. I hadn't suspected Janice, but I had Sonya. He had just confirmed the thoughts I'd been having for years. I knew he had forgiven me for relapsing, using whilst pregnant, oh so many things over the years. I had no choice, but to forgive him. In person I had done it years ago, but then, I had to do it from the heart. Face to face I spluttered the words out, and knew that one day my heart would catch up and forgive, alongside my words.

I took this issue to another session with the psychotherapy team and this opened the floodgates on my own transgressions. I was advised I did not have too, but I was advised to reveal my misdemeanours to Jerro and ask for his forgiveness. This sounded like the bloody NA - 12 Step programme again! To wipe the slate clean, they said. If he had had the courage to admit his mistakes, then they thought it would be a good idea for me to do it too.

I became despondent and my commitment to the research programme waned. Jerro tried to motivate me to attend the sessions but I could not find the energy within myself to go. Eventually they came to me, with contracts in hand - of commitment and confidentiality. They told me that they were not the enemy. That maybe I was sabotaging everything at this late stage by now owning it. I realised I was my own worst enemy and was sliding on the conveyor belt of self destruct. I had to 'man-up' and tell Jerro about David, the man at the Gym and NoRing.

I did. He looked like I'd hit him in the face with a frying pan. Eventually he spoke.

'Thank you, Sam for your honesty. I realise I have had a huge part to play in all of this ....and I also realise this is history too.' He sounded like my echo. 'I forgive you. Isn't it time we started all over again.' I smiled and he moved in to hug me. It felt safe.

But I wasn't ready to sleep with him again. We weren't allowed to anyway, not until the end of the programme. This was when I saw the growth in him. Normally if he was hurt about anything he would stomp off, but this time he spent the evening with me and the girls watching TV. I went to bed, relieved. The following day I was at therapy fifteen minutes earlier than I should. I was desperate to share my story with the therapist. Her professional coating slipped when I noticed a single tear of pride roll down her cheek.

'You look like you've lost the lottery and won the pools Samantha.' I'd never realised what that saying had meant, but I did then.

In the following sessions, I learned that throughout my life I had wanted everyone in the world to make me feel liked and wanted. I had begged and manipulated people for the whole of my life for that reassurance - through prostitution, through drugs. Even through my own children. Without intending it, I had been really controlling, making everyone around me have the job of making me feel wanted. But the truth was I had to want myself. I had to love myself and value my life. I had to grow up and accept responsibility for my actions and behaviour. ('One day at a time', I remembered from NA.)

I kept in mind my conversations with Janice, when we used to say we felt black and wanted to be pink. In hindsight, I realised that I had been on this self-development treadmill a lot longer than I thought I had. This twelve month programme was the catalyst.

It had all begun the day I walked into the NA rooms and met Janice. Oh, I still missed her. I asked my therapist if I should try to make contact with her, now I knew the truth. She warned me against it.

'It might be the right time for you, Samantha, but it might not be for her, you have to respect that!' She had a point. On the way home, I remembered that phone call to Pete the landlord and the woman calling to her kids! No, that was impossible!

Jerro looked down when I replayed my day and therapy session. By the looks of things he was still a bit shocked.

'Sam, I need to tell you something.'

' What now I can't take any more, Jerro. ?'

'I've been round to see Janice.'

*

Jerro's story

At Janice's door, I shivered with shame.

A tall dark young man answered the door. As he saw my startled expression, he took a step back, that must have been a teenage Dwaine, I thought.

'Mum, it's for you,' he yelled backwards. 'I don't know, some man at the door.' He turned his attention back to his iPhone and left me stood there with the door enveloped open. I did not move. Shaking, I tried to still my legs. As the door reopened a beautiful, slim, well cared for Janice stared, wide-eyed and alarmed at me.

'What do you want?' she spat.

I asked, 'please can I have two minutes of your time Janice? Please?' I begged. Her hand went across her mouth and a look of hatred came from her eyes. She did not make any attempt to welcome me. She was rigid. Then her hand dropped and she tightened and crossed both arms and held herself tight. I tried to talk, but my mouth was too dry. I had prepared a speech but it wouldn't come out. We stared at each other as if it was an eternity. My mouth became gagged when I saw the hurt behind her beautiful caring eyes. I had only nanoseconds and I had to make it good and fast. I said,

'Janice, I am so sorry about what happened between us. I know I took advantage of you and I have come round here to apologise and ask you for forgiveness.' My voice was full of fear, it rattled. Her eyes showed no reprieve. 'I was wrong. I did a terrible thing and I need you to know that I have been riddled with shame and guilt ever since.' As snot rolled down my chin. It was like talking to a wall, she stood motionless. She didn't even blink. Then she said,

'Is that all you have got to say for yourself? What about me?'

I began stammering. 'I am sorry Janice, I don't know what came over me, I know I have hurt you, I can see it in your eyes. Oh Janice, believe me - I am so sorry.' Her hands moved onto her hips. She could see my shame, she had heard my plea, I knew she was still shocked. Yet slowly, ever so slightly, her eyes warmed and a soft light began to shine behind them.

'Ok!' she replied and slammed the door in my face. I wasn't expecting that. I had apologised and that was humanly the only thing I could do. As I turned and walked down the path towards the gate, a window opened behind me and she must have poked her head out. She shouted,

'Jerro, you were a cunt to Samantha and had no right to do what you did, but I forgive you. Thank you for coming.' The window slammed. All I could see were the nets rustling with the backdraught. Fumbling, I unlocked my car.

As my hands rested on the steering wheel, my heart rate began to simmer down. I realised I was dripping with sweat. I stank. My hands shook on the steering wheel. My heart rate began to slow. I had never in all my life been so scared or ashamed of myself. I felt so sorry for her and for Sam. I had inflicted so much hurt on so many people, I should have learnt to beat the bed up years ago. The keys turned the ignition. I took a final look back at the property. The net curtains were still, there were no signs of life, it looked like it had done, before I'd arrived. As I drove away, I felt relief and regret that I hadn't done it sooner. Then a sense of joy came into my heart. I felt like I had been a humble man but it felt good. A man who could say sorry and mean it.

Ok, I was really struggling with my guilt over Ade, but seeing Hope nearing six, I knew at a head level and a heart level that it had never been my fault, it was a tragic accident. Ade would have forgiven me too, I think. He would have never wanted me to walk around burdened with guilt and shame for the rest of my life. As the car drove out of the Stockport estate, I realised I had to give myself what I wanted from Ade, what I had wanted earlier from Janice. As the M61 motorway signs came into view, I realised I had to forgive myself, Ade would have wanted that. But, I didn't know how too. I prayed out loud.

'Ade, God, if you can hear me, I want you to know how truly sorry I am for your death, I have been riddled with guilt all my life and I need to be free from this. Ade \- I will never stop loving you, I promise, but I need to be free?' The tears were blocking my vision, as the M61 slip road sign said '2 miles.' I couldn't see. I started looking for a place to turn off. 'Please forgive me?' I called out into the empty car. Nothing happened. 'I need a sign or something. How am I supposed to know if I've been forgiven?' Then smoke entered the car, I pulled over to the left. The man behind me beeped his horn loudly and put two fingers up to at me. 'Sorry mate.' I waved. 'Something's wrong with my car.' I looked around, there was a lane just ahead and a sign saying 'Blossom Cattery -first left.' I wondered if I should call the AA, but in the distance I noticed more smoke. Someone was having a bonfire, it wasn't my car after all. I must have been going mad. As I rejoined the traffic, I realised that I had been sent a sign. I felt lighter, relieved, I didn't feel any guilt anymore. Then as the miles fell behind me, I remembered the cattery sign and something Samantha had said one day.

'It's harder to forgive yourself than it is others!'.

*

Coming to the end of the therapy year, there had been a huge fall out in the number of attendees, only a few of us had had the tolerance, stamina and commitment to complete the course. The group workshops focused on rebuilding our personal relationships with each other, as couples. We talked about how we could salvage friendships with people we had let go of over the years or even find peace with the friendships we had lost over the years and couldn't reclaim. We chatted and looked at different strategies to find peace with these important relationships. Honesty and forgiveness were the key elements for us all to move on with our lives. Then one woman who had never said a word over the year spoke,

'But what if it was your partner who had soiled these relationships and you were the one who took the punishment for his endeavours?'

This brought up a huge debate within the group, everyone within the group was holding onto some resentment towards their partners. Then Jerro shared about forgiving them when what they had done was wrong and hurtful but with forgiveness and love we could judge it as a human mistake. We all make mistakes. I thought he was becoming really religious; I started to worry.

However, the group facilitator did bring us all back to ground zero with the ever present thought that - what had happened in the past - had happened and try as hard as we possibly could, we could never go back, relive it and rewrite the story or the consequential hurt. We all had to look at where we were today and where we had been at the beginning of this programme. We all had to take on board that we had all changed and although we felt justified at being angry with ourselves and our partners we had to value the hard work and commitment that we had all put in, to start things anew. That was the only way to move our relationships forward.

'So what if you believe you are unlovable?' The room went quiet. I looked around and most of the women were nodding, including me. The facilitator asked,

'Hmm, that's interesting. Does anyone in the room want to respond to this?'

I looked around the circle and I saw everyone was unanimous, everyone was nodding and agreeing. We had reached a crux with our own selves. Everyone in that room believed that they were unlovable. Then the therapist asked us all to look around the room and see the love, see the commitment between each other, see the love that we all have now - for ourselves - and each other. Even if it is only because we were persevering and working hard to work through this programme.

I understood what she was saying. I could see other people's love for themselves and for each other; I guess I just could never accept myself as lovable. I wasn't worth anything, I never had been. No one had ever really wanted me. Yeh, they had wanted to fuck me and use me for their own gain, but no one had ever wanted to simply 'just be' with me, and nothing could shake this off me.

With my heart thundering, I shared my thoughts. As the words left my mouth and entered the room, Jerro pulled me into his arms. He looked really sad. In front of the whole group he looked me straight in the eye.

'Sam, I'm so sorry. I've made you feel this way. But the truth is, I love you, more than anything. I always have, it was never about you being unlovable, it was about me and me not being able to love. I am so sorry.' We melted into each other's arms.

On the way home he told me, that since we had been together, he had never ever thought that I had thought or believed that way. He had known that I did not like my body image and he said that he had helped in every way that he possibly could have done. I agreed with him. He said it hurt him to think that I thought I was unworthy of love.

'Samantha - you are the mother of my children, I could not have become a father without you. You have made my life complete - worthwhile!' I looked up the road as his words replayed over and over in my head. I 'complete' him, wasn't that in a corny movie? I made his life worthwhile. I wasn't unworthy, he was unable!

'I have been so wrong and treated you so bad, for so long. You didn't deserve that. Samantha \- can you forgive me?'

'Stop the car you Grizzly old bear.......... I forgive you - I forgive you, Jerro!'

'But will you forgive me and we can all start again?'

'I will!'

It was like a lay-by declaration service.

Pulling out of that lay-by was the beginning of our new life, I believe. Over the next few days a new word entered our family dialogue - Sorry. It was like politeness had come back in with us that day.

'Sorry, did I get in your way, Sorry, is that your coffee? Sorry, would you like to get in the bathroom first? Jerro, I am Sorry, I will be there in a minute. Sorry, it was me that ................' It felt weird at first but lovely, even Hope and Tia had begun to follow our lead and started to say sorry to one another. Ok, they got upset when we first made them, but within days, it became natural for them to volunteer an apology.

In our house, no one was throwing verbal arrows anymore. Our armistice was becoming the norm. Jerro had worked so hard in the treatment programme, giving away layers and layers of painful memories, beliefs and behaviours.

We were both as sensitive as each other. Not one of us was the ultra hard being that we liked to think we were. We both got frightened, felt loss and had a special antenna for rejection and could pick up signals at 100 yards. He became a raw, beautiful man to be around. Oh, so vulnerable. But pure. Like a newborn.

His actions became gentle, kind, thoughtful and helpful. I still struggled with the hate and resentment I felt towards him it, it haunted me. My therapist thought that maybe the disgust that I held onto, about men who sleep with prostitutes, may still be fresh and projected onto Jerro.

'But is that fair to put all those men's shame onto one person?' she asked.

'Love is deeper than that, Samantha.'

I'm still working on that issue. However, I look for his good points nowadays. I've got a good man who has always provided for me, whatever scrapes I've got myself and my family into. He had always been a good father to the girls. I always knew he could be loving because I'd seen him this way with the children. Slowly we began to trust, talk, share our days and our worries. We giggled, especially at some of the stupid things we had done in the past, the toilet roll, even going to the shop in stilettos in the icy snow. We felt a sad gap when we think of the child we lost at Edinburgh, but knew it would have broken us at that time in our lives.

At the end of the programme, we were allowed to go back to being intimate together. As he had got to grips with his personal hygiene and firmed his body back into shape, I couldn't wait. So, when the time was right we made love properly. It was orchestras and sparkles in the moonlight, it was tender and nerve-wracking. It had been the first time in our whole lives that we had 'made love.'

I began doing nails again and because I contribute financially I have a voice in the household finances. I'm learning to cook, Jerro and I do the shopping together. I still won't touch the trolleys, so Jerro helps me with the shopping and pushes the trolleys in the supermarket, he pushes the swings at the park too, and is renowned for coming along to ballet and gym lessons also. When we go out, we go out as a family and when we holiday, we will all go together.

The knock-on effects on the girls have been amazing, they come and sit between us on the sofa and in the bed. It's not one or the other parent that they come to, it is either. I see other mums look at me and whisper,

'I wish my husband would help out - like him. Have you seen the way he looks at her? Aw - it's lovely.' Sometimes I pinch myself to see if this new life is real. Then I find out it is! I am so lucky. Once I had nothing, now I have everything.

I remembered Tom from the NA meetings, he used to say, 'Some people are good at being good and good at being bad, they just don't know the difference!' That was me and Jerro all over.

*

Six months or so after the therapy sessions finished, Jerro and I were in a really good place in our relationship. I decided that I no longer had feelings for Tom, and Jerro was 'The One.' One Wednesday evening on Face book, I entered his name on the search bar.

His stubbled face stared back at me. My heart melted as a rush of feelings overwhelmed me. I stared into his eyes for what seemed ages. He was just the same. then I read his status:

Thank you all for your loving messages, Tom would have been so proud to have known that he had been so highly thought of. He touched so many lives. His funeral will take place, this Friday at 11am, at St Nicholas Church, South Road, Salford. M12 3PR. No flowers please, but donations for Tom's favourite charity, Mencap, will be gratefully received.

No one could have prepared me for that kind of news. I screamed. Jerro came rattling up the stairs to the office in the loft. We both stared at the screen. His hand squeezed my shoulder.

'I will ask April to watch the girls, Sam,' he said.

Dressed in black, we joined the hundreds of mourners. I recognised a few of them from the NA rooms. Staring at his coffin, I struggled to make sense of the day. There was a poster sized photograph of him resting on an easel by the pulpit. _Why Tom, Why?_ My brain revolved.

His identical brother got up to the pulpit and read Matthew chapter 23, verses 11-12:

"But the greatest among you shall be your servant. "Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled; and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.

Everything began to make sense, it was drugs. He had relapsed. He had taken charge over his addiction and not left it with his higher power. He must have been eleven or so years clean. _Why Tom, Why?_

I got my answer as I saw a tall thin lady stand and walk towards the pulpit. Her shoulders hunched over as she placed her notes on the stand. She reached for the glass of water that was there.

It was Janice. Trembling inside, I listened to her kind loving words.

'Tom was gorgeous. Not only on the outside but on the inside. He spread layers of love where ever he went. He made us laugh and was with us when we cried. He held our hands when we had to be brave and would always help out whenever he could. He worked hard at repaying society for the misdemeanours he had done. He touched lives and hearts - all of our hearts for sure! But the drugs got him, they haunted him. Eleven years, eight months and three days, they were still there stalking him, teasing and taunting him. 'Just the once, it'll be alright.' I saw most of the heads in the church nodding.

'So there's a message here, never get too big for your boots. This addiction is powerful, it can take you at any moment, anywhere. For Tom's sake and for the many others we have known and lost, keep together, stay together and we will always be strong and united against our enemy. Complacency kills.'

The vicar invited everyone into the church hall to come to the wake, but with Janice in the room, it was a bit awkward. Jerro's hand began shaking in mine. I wanted to go, I wanted to see Janice, but he wanted to make a run for it. But as we got out of the pews and joined the river of people flowing down the aisle, a hand touched my shoulder.

'Hi, remember me. Sarah. I was with Tom when your waters burst.' She pulled me in for a NA hug. 'How are you, how's your baby? Oh not so much a baby, she must be five, six now?'

'Seven.' I heard a warm southern accent behind her say,

'Seven, nearly eight - I would say!' I looked to find out who else had remembered. Then was temporarily blinkered as two of the longest arms enfolded me into the cosiest longest hug I had had in years.

'Janice, Janice!'
Chapter Fifteen

It was the saddest day, but a great day at the funeral. Tom had impacted so many people's lives. Janice and I swapped numbers and promised each other that we would meet up soon, we had so much to catch up on. As the grief subsided and life began again, I was cuddling the girls on the sofa after school one day, just enjoying the tail end of Neighbours, when Jerro came bursting through the door.

'Looky, looky, look what Daddy's got!' We all jumped to our feet. He was fanning a scratch card in the girls' faces. 'How much do you think Daddy's won on the scratchies, who wants to guess?'

'Fifty. Twenty.'

'Higher, higher,' he called out like Bruce Forsyth.

'Ten thousand!' I shouted.

'Lower, lower.'

'Six thousand!' shouted Tia.

'Lower.' He was such a tease.

'£1000!!' I screamed.

'Give that lady the prize.' He placed the card in my hand. I shook as my mind went into overdrive.

'Can we have a cat, Daddy, please Daddy, a Wendy house Daddy?'

'Bunk beds, Daddy, Aw Daddy, a dog Daddy?'

'Hang on, hang on!'

'I think,' he stalled for time, 'I think we should have a wedding, with two beautiful bridesmaids?' He fell to his knee.

'What do you say Sam?'

The doorbell rang, a big smile on my face, I got up to answer it. I looked over my shoulder seductively and kissed my index fingers, blowing him a kiss. As I collected myself and walked towards the door, I could see the shape of a woman standing outside.

I opened the door slowly. A cold draught seemed to go right through me, instantly my hackles were up. When the door was three quarters open, it was pushed from the other side and it slammed into my face. I must have taken a step backwards as next thing I knew, Collette's bulging eyes and frothing mouth stared at me. I saw her green nail varnish as her hands came up and grabbed both sides of my hair. She was ripping it out of my head, spitting out bitches! cunts! whores! and sluts! at me. I tried to push her off but Jerro was there in seconds shouting.

'Get the fuck off her! OFF HER!!'

She released me, pushing me into the wall. My head throbbed with pain as I focused in and saw she had two handfuls of my hair in her hands. Jerro's punch crunched as he punched her on the side of her face, she wobbled backwards, but didn't fall. Bemused, I fumbled at the two bald patches on my head and tried to push Jerro out of my way so I could reach her. She glared at me, spat out blood onto my beige carpet and threatened me.

'I'm going to fucking have you!' She stomped away all over our flowered borders and slammed the gate.

Jerro's hand was over his mouth as he whispered,

'Samantha, look at you.'

I couldn't see, I could just feel bald patches. I wanted to go after her, but he stopped me.

'What the fuck was all that about?' Jerro, asked horrified.

'Not a fucking clue, but she has gone too far now. Too far!!!'

The End (for now)

