46

Even in my dreams the shame is still there. It burns through every action, every decision, every moment in my life. I walk into a room and I’m certain everyone can see its stain.

He allowed his mother to do terrible things to him. How can they not be thinking this?

Shame tells me I’m not worthy. It haunts like an invisible shroud, a net that encircles me and is tethered to my mind by hooks of inadequacy and self-condemnation. I conceal what I feel because shame does not make a distinction between an action and the self. Therefore, with shame, bad is not separate from self, it’s integral. It’s as much a part of me as my brown eyes.

What human being wants to broadcast their shame? No, we hide from it, deflect it, call it out in others, not caring that it will have hugely damaging implications for them, passing it on like a diseased baton.

But it was time for that cycle to end. Without being asked I told Thomas of the first time that it happened and of the subsequent times. I told him of my anger, my guilt, my hate, and my love for the woman who abused me. And while I spoke, Thomas said nothing, simply nodded and offered the occasional grunt of recognition, his expression one of grim understanding.

‘The doctor gave me a leaflet for a charity who deal especially with men who’ve been…’ I tailed off.

‘That’s good,’ Thomas said. ‘In my day there was no such thing. In fact the first therapist I saw refused to believe me.’

‘What?’

‘She tried to tell me I must have been mistaken, that it must have been my father who abused me … women don’t do that sort of thing.’ Bitterness at his treatment was strong in his voice, as if it had just happened days ago. ‘I thought I was going around the twist, you know, I began to question my own sanity. It was almost as if I had been abused all over again. But…’ he found a smile ‘…Liz was better for me than any counsellor.’

‘Have you ever wanted to go and confront Mum?’ This was a thought that was entering my head more and more. Would facing up to her once and for all help me in my recovery?

‘I dreamed about it. Revelled in the thought. I had so many daydreams where I tore strips off them both, Mum and Dad.’ His reply was all the more powerful for the bold, unemotional way that it was stated. ‘I know that Dad couldn’t have known anything about it and he didn’t have a hand in it, but I can’t help thinking that perhaps if he hadn’t spent so much time at work it might never have happened, or not happened as much.’

My head moved in agreement.

‘And as for that woman, if I saw her again I don’t know how I would react. I don’t know if I could keep my hands away from her throat.’

It was clear that Tom was still fighting the demons of his childhood and this frightened me. The root of that fear lay in my selfish concern that I would never be free of the horror either. He showed the face of a well-adjusted family man, but beneath the paper-thin mask he wore were the scars of decades of internal turmoil.

I wondered how this affected his family life. That anger had to go somewhere, didn’t it?

‘Did Mum ever hurt you?’ I asked.

‘No, she never actually physically harmed me. It was always under the guise of love and affection. Her touch was always gentle…’

‘Pleasurable?’ I asked hesitantly.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s something I am having huge problems dealing with. I mean it took me a long time to actually admit this, but I found … I enjoyed the contact with Mum, it was the only time she ever gave me any affection.’ I felt a surge of nausea as I said this. ‘But I had to physically respond before the abuse could happen … Does that make me as sick as her?’

‘Bloody hell, no, John,’ Thomas said. ‘You were only a child. She abused the power she had over you. Don’t feel guilt over your sexual response. When you’re tickled, you laugh, don’t you? When someone flings pepper up your nose, you sneeze. These are all involuntary physical reactions that you have no control over, just as a sexual response to contact is. This is all on her, please believe that.’

‘I hear you. And I kind of understand in here.’ I held a finger to the side of my head. ‘But … I can see now that as I grew up, on some level I saw an erection as proof of how sick I was, not of how healthy or normal I was.’

‘What about relationships?’ Thomas asked. ‘Have you been able to…’

I gave a grim laugh. ‘Lots of one-night stands. But when it means something?’ I thought of Angela and my failed attempts to make love to her after I’d proposed. Just then I heard the approach of rapid feet and Thomas’s oldest boy rushed in.

‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,’ he shouted as he ran. Then he jumped into his father’s arms, swung round to face me and studied me from his perch.’

‘Mum said you’re my uncle,’ he said.

‘I am so,’ I replied.

‘Baby,’ Liz said as she joined us, holding the younger child in her arms. ‘Don’t be giving Uncle John a hard time.’ She gave me a little smile of acknowledgement before stooping to kiss her husband on the cheek. ‘You guys okay?’ she asked.

We both nodded and said yes.

She then handed the child to his father and straightened up. As she did so she put a hand in her pocket, her face forming a quizzical expression. ‘I don’t remember putting anything in…’ She pulled out a square of paper and looked at it, her face forming into a look of horror.

‘What is it, babe?’ Thomas asked as he got to his feet. I joined him and looked down at the sheet of paper. It was a photograph of Liz and the two children at a swing park.

‘That’s the park just round the corner. Oh my God, someone’s been following us.’ Eyes wide in shock, she held a hand to her mouth.

‘How on earth did that get into your pocket?’ I asked.

‘Oh my God. Oh my God, ohmigod,’ Liz cried.

‘Right. Let’s not panic,’ Thomas said. ‘We’re safe here. This is a public space. No one’s going to try anything. They’re just trying to scare us.’

‘And it’s bloody working,’ cried Liz.

The children picked up on her alarm and both of them started to cry.

‘I’ll text Chris,’ I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket:

Can you get back to The Hamilton? Need you.

‘It would help us if we knew more about what we were dealing with here,’ I said to Thomas. ‘Who are these people and what kind of hold do they have over you?’