I was an unexpected blessing. My parents were Aussies living and working in New Zealand. It was 1974 when I was conceived and so they quickly came back to their home town in Australia, to get married. My mother was 18 or 19, I think Dad was 20 or 21.
I don't ever remember my parents being together. They divorced when I was a baby.
After sharing a flat with my Aunt for a short time, my mother rented a house in a small rural suburb about 20 minutes drive from the main township. (A long way in those days!) The owner of the house was a divorcee, and lived in the house next door, with his mother, his son and his daughter. It wasn't long before they were married and I had a new family... and soon I had a new sister on the way...
My father moved to a new town (about an hour away), for a fresh start and a new job. He met a young woman at square dancing (part of me wants to say LOL) and he was soon remarried too... with a son on the way...
I have vague memories of my fathers wedding. I was a flower girl. I remember getting my hair curled at the hair dressers. The hair dresser used a large clunky heated curling wand - the type that had spokes all over it. I remember the hairdresser telling me to let her know if the curler got too hot or too close to my scalp, but kind of being too afraid to say it was too hot. I wanted to be brave. I had a purple flowery dress. I felt like a princess.
By the time I was in Grade 1, in 1981, my life felt normal. I didn't know any different. Dad got to visit me every second weekend (when he actually turned up) and we would go to my grandparents house...
Then, something happened....
One morning, I jumped into bed with my mother and my stepfather. I don't remember if there were other kids in the bed.
As I was kicking about a bit, under the covers, I felt something soft with my feet. It felt weird. I didn't know what it was so I tried to touch it with my foot again. I began gently prodding this soft thing with my foot. Suddenly my stepfather grabbed my hand. He pulled my hand down, and placed it onto his private part.
I am not exactly sure what happened then. I don't think Mum was in the bed at that stage. She may have gotten up to start getting breakfast ready.
I think my stepfather said something about not telling Mum.
It was the start... of something... sordid.... that went on... for a while...
I was five, or six years old.
When I think about this now, I can't understand, how he was able to justify what was going on.
But this kind of scenario... when no one else was around, was about to become a common occurrence.
This was the beginning of my journey as a survivor...
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