Born Different

Chapter 1

Baby Steps

A festival was in the local town in the 1950s, and this is where my dear mum met my dad. He was an army man, and Mum was in a factory job at the time. Trevor was Dad’s name, and June was my mother’s name. Trevor had travelled the world in the army, but Mum was a homing pigeon. Dad had an eye-catching tattoo on his right arm from being in the army. He had lost his mother at the age of 5 due to stomach cancer. He also had eleven other brothers and sisters of which he was the youngest. Mum only had a half-brother, sharing the same dad.

After several years of courtship, Mum and Dad got engaged and then in 1962 got married. Ann came along in 1964 then me in 1966. I was a World Cup baby, Mum told everyone.

Ann had been a traumatic birth with the cord wrapped around her neck, and Mum and Ann both nearly died. I was an easier birth being born at home at my granddad’s. I was under the star sign Virgo with Cancer ascendant, which meant I was an intelligent but sensitive baby.

But the day Mum gave birth to me, she developed an intense migraine she’d never had before; so the first twenty-four hours, I was looked after by family. As soon as I was born, I had a show of ginger hair. Dad then immediately stated I could not be his child. There were no redheads in the immediate family, so Dad used this as an excuse. But the reason I really got my coloured hair from was my mother’s own mother’s sister. Mum decided to call me Jane.

Dad had already made up his mind he didn’t want anything to do with me, but Mum adored me. Ann was a daddy’s girl and wouldn’t settle on Mum, only Dad. It was then that Dad became a very nasty person. He would have affairs and give Mum the odd kick in the shin. He would blame Mum for having a ginger-haired baby girl when he really wanted a brown-haired boy like him. As a baby, I never cried; but Ann cried constantly unless Dad was holding her. So Ann spent most of her time on Dad’s lap.

As the months went by, things at home got worse. When I was 3 months old, Mum developed bronchial asthma. She was so stressed over Dad’s behaviour and Ann’s high maintenance her health deteriorated. As Mum’s breathing got difficult, she couldn’t look after me properly. Dad would wash and dress Ann but leave me to my own devices. More months went by, and now Mum couldn’t walk. She hadn’t had a proper bath and hair wash in months. Mum had pre-made bottles of milk for me in the airing cupboard to last me for 12 hours a time.

By the time I was 8 months old, my daily routine was being dragged out of bed by mum because she couldn’t carry me anymore; she was so weak. I was laid on a mat on the lounge floor in a Babygro I had worn for several days. My milk bottle would be propped up because Mum was too weak to hold it herself.

Ann’s potty was beside Mum. It was full of phlegm as she was bringing up mucus. Feeds would be missed; and Mum would only bring a bottle in if I started sucking, which meant I was hungry. Then at night, Mum would wrap an arm around my tiny body and crawl along the floor to get me to bed. Her breathing was loud now, in and out this foghorn noise echoed around the house. All the time, Dad sat in his armchair smirking.

At 10 months old, Mum’s legs had given up all hope; so I was dragged all around the house. Mum’s airways were still loud. Every breath she took was like a growl. The scene was Dad playing with Ann and her toys, Mum being sick, and me just lying there filthy and neglected. The only sight I saw every day was Mum trying to breathe and being sick constantly. Her face was distorted in pain and trauma. It took Mum 30 minutes to change my nappy, but I would wear the same Babygro suit for days.

But when I turned 10.5 months, Mum gave up completely. A visit from her own mother had sparked concerns, so a doctor was called. The family visit was to change everything in the household that day.

A doctor came out and advised Mum to be sent to hospital immediately. Suddenly the house was in chaos. Mum was carried out on a stretcher to an ambulance with the family in tears. Dad was called home from work immediately. When he got home, he looked guilty and awkward; he shuffled his hands around in his pockets like he always did with his small change when he was agitated.

That night I was taken to my aunt Edith’s with Ann to stay. Dad stayed at home alone. But after a few nights at Edith’s, Ann’s head banging kept the family up. Ann had nearly started head banging almost every night. Edith had three children of her own, and no one was getting any sleep.

Ann went back to Dad’s, a three-bedroom bungalow on Linton Road. At Edith’s I was taken outside for the first time in the fresh air in a pram. I came out of nappies at 11 months old and learnt to walk. I even smiled for the first time. To me, Edith was my real mum.

After three weeks in hospital, Mum was on the mend; so Dad took Ann and me up to see her. Dad had never picked me up in his arms before, but now he had no choice but to. When we got in the ward Mum was staying in, Dad put me down on the floor; but I crawled backwards under the bed and hid. Mum was aghast at the baby suit Dad had put me in. It was the colour red. The problem was it clashed with my hair. Dad had no colour sense. Or was he just mocking me?

When I was a year old, Mum came out of hospital. She had been told if another day had gone by, she would of died. Luckily, her family had called the doctor when they did. Mum came to pick me up from my aunt’s after nearly two months away from her. But when Edith handed me over to Mum, I wouldn’t go. I hid behind Edith’s legs, even though Mum had her arms out for me. I cried, but she took me anyway. Over Mum’s shoulder, I stared at Edith until she was out of view, saddened and confused. I had been happy where I was. I was cared for and loved.

At home the first week back, I was in my highchair eating dinner, when I let out an almighty wail. The spoon I was holding was bashing against my bowl in my left hand, making a deafening sound. Mum spun round in amazement, shocked. The worm had turned, I had found myself. Every time I was in my highchair after that, I did the same thing, though not as bad as the first time. I had developed a nasty temper.

During the year when I was coming up to the age of 2, Ann’s head banging was still continuing. Poor mum and dad never got any sleep, and I heard it every night as we shared the same room. The adjoining neighbours would bang on the wall thinking Dad was doing DIY in the middle of the night. Ann’s cot was next to mine, and I would watch her stand up with her hands on the headboard frame and rock backwards and forwards until the cot moved across the room. It violently shook the cot would end up the other end of the room. Ann’s head would go bang, bang, bang on the hard concrete wall. One night I copied and banged my own head. Ann cried and banged her head every day, so Mum took her to see a priest because she was worried Ann might have been demonic; but Ann never misbehaved around anyone else. She wouldn’t go in a bed either, only her cot. With me watching Ann banging her head on the wall, I must of thought my sister was a woodpecker.

A playschool was not far from our house on Linton Road. It was in a caravan. Mum took me one day on the back of her push bike. I always sat on a seat behind her, but I feared for my life when she would turn corners. Her corners were rather sharp and fast. I felt terrified I was going to fall out. Fear gripped me, and my tiny hands clenched the sides of the seat. The first week at playschool, I wouldn’t join in. The other kids did painting, picture books, and puzzles. But I just sat on the teacher’s lap in a world of my own. I wanted to hide and go home. Mum decided not to take me anymore after the failed attempt. Ann had loved it herself, though.

On a sunny day in 1969, Mum went out to visit her two best friends, Vera and Grace, for the day; and Ann and I were left with Dad. We played outside on the street with the other kids. But Mum unexpectedly came home early. She went to the lounge, but Dad wasn’t there; so she went to the bedroom, thinking maybe Dad had a headache, lying on the bed. When she opened the door, a child ran out, screaming, ‘That man got me in bed!’ She ran home, and Mum asked Dad to explain himself. Dad just walked up to the marital bedroom window and looked out. He said the child had come on to him. Mum was naive, but she felt this wasn’t right. There and then, she wanted to leave Dad, but she would be homeless. There would be nowhere for her to go.

All things changed then. Ann was moved into the small middle bedroom of the bungalow, and Mum came in the bigger bedroom with me. Mum just couldn’t bear to share a bed with Dad anymore. Her feelings for Dad changed overnight. She would just stay with him for her children’s sake. She didn’t even tell her friends or family what had happened that day. She was scared at what she had experienced.

Mum had a friend called Celia whom she had known all her life, and Celia had two daughters too. Gail was Ann’s age, and Teresa was my age. We all started to spend a lot of time together. We would go to the coast and parks and had so much fun. I loved Teresa; we were so alike.

In 1972, I started infant school. But I was very shy; if anyone looked at me, I would put my hand across my face. My classroom was a caravan with a female teacher. Schoolwork was hard. I would copy the work of the little girl next to me. When I used my left hand to draw and write, the teachers would try to take the pencil out and put it in my right hand, but I would switch it back, and the teachers would get annoyed. I would sit in my chair sniffing my skin. I loved the smell. Sometimes I would bring my knees up and smell them too. The teachers would tell me off, but it just confused me. A lot of stuff in my short life had always made me feel confused. Mum had let me smell my skin at home with no problem. What was normal, and what was not normal?

A few months into school, I sat in class and stared out the window. You could see the pathway that led to the dinner hall. The door had a glass top and wooden bottom part. All of a sudden, my hand flew up; and I asked to go to the toilet. Being excused, I walked down the path and up to the door, but I carried on and on. The next thing I knew, I felt this almighty stabbing pain in my forehead. Teachers came running, and I was led across the hall with blood dripping all over the recently polished wooden flooring. I heard wailing, and it was coming from me. I had walked up to the door like it was invisible. Being taken to hospital, I had to have three stitches in my forehead. It really hurt.

As I settled in the school, the teachers called Mum to speak to her in the office one morning. The teachers were worried about me. They asked Mum some questions: ‘Why is Jane not like her sister Ann?’ ‘Why is Jane different to the other children?’ or ‘Jane doesn’t seem to act normal.’ Mum just said I was terribly shy.

After school finished at 3 p.m., Dad was sometimes at the gates to drive us home in his lorry. Dad was outside one sunny afternoon, waiting. He did deliveries in his lorry, and the depot was only round the corner. On this particular day, when Ann jumped in, Dad suddenly hit the gas and drove off. I was left standing there like a lost soul. I walked home alone with my head to the ground, feeling confused yet again. Tears sprung in my eyes when I saw Mum. I told her what Dad had done, and he just shrugged his shoulders. Mum told him he was a cruel man; but he just smirked in his armchair, holding the daily newspaper The Sun he bought every day.

We started to have sleepovers round Celia’s. Gail and Ann would taunt Teresa and me by telling us scary stories; one day they put ants in our bed. Even though they got a telling off, it was only playing. We began to call Celia Aunt Celia. Ann and I loved staying over Celia’s. She had a Dalmatian dog and swings in the back garden. Celia played the record Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks, and we would all sing along to the songs happily.

I loved trips to my nan’s, my mum’s mother. She didn’t live far from us, just a ten-minute walk from our home. Nan was so gentle, and Granddad was very intelligent. They had a huge back garden where Ann and I would play hide-and-seek. Nanna always had a glass of Ribena for me. I loved the stuff. Nanna had a mangle in her conservatory. Ann would tease me to put my fingers between the rolls, and one day it got pinched. Nanna would hug me, and then everything would be all right.

In 1974, when I was 8 years old, I started a phase of swirling money around in my mouth. I would grab a handful, look at myself in the mirror, and watch myself chewing on the small change. But one day I went a bit too far and swallowed one. Gulp. My guess it was a 2p. Mum was in the kitchen, and I blurted out the wind had blown a 2p down my throat. I lied. I felt silly to tell the truth. ‘Get your coat on. I’m taking you to the doctor’s.’ The doctor said Mum had to make me poo on a potty and cut my poo up to see if I would pass the 2p in the next week. If I didn’t, then I would have to be cut open to take the 2p out. In the meantime, I would be sent for an X-ray to see where the money was inside me. It was working its way down my body, so only time would tell now. Luckily, on the day I would have been sent for surgery, it came out. I decided to keep it in a small box and hid it at the back of a draw.

Mum started a factory job near where Dad worked. It was in the evenings between 5 and 10 p.m. Dad would put Ann and me to bed. I started to get nightmares and was terrified of having a bedroom to myself at night while Mum was now working evenings. I would be so relieved when Mum came home just after 10 p.m. I developed bad headaches and bed-wetting. I was in middle school now, and I didn’t seem to fit in. I felt different, and the other kids noticed it too. At playtime, no one wanted to join me in their games; and I was always picked last in activities. If I would come home from school and found Mum had moved my bedroom possessions around after cleaning our room, I would tell her off. ‘Are you deaf and blind?’ I would shout at her, telling her again and again about moving my stuff about. I would stare at her in the eyes. Mum found my innocence amusing.

A year later, I developed migraines. It would make me feel sick. I would sneak in the cupboard and eat sugar lumps. I would pop one in after another. Of course, Mum noticed and took me to the doctor’s. Mum thought I might have been diabetic. I was sent to the hospital for a blood test. The results came back all clear. No one knew what my headaches were all about. No one else seemed to have them either.

Dad by now started an affair with Celia. Dad would bring Celia round and ask Mum if they could use the bedroom while Ann and I were at school. Dad had debts, and the TV was taken away once because he didn’t pay the bill. I was watching my favourite Mary, Mungo and Midge when these men came in and took the television away. Dad made an excuse it went wrong. Instead, while we had no TV for a few weeks, he played a lot of records. Some were rhymes children sang, which we enjoyed; but one record struck a chord with me. It was ‘Vardo’ by Drupi. I played it over and over.

I met a friend who lived round the back. Her name was Susan. We got close and went to school and back with each other. We both had a Tiny Tears doll each and took them everywhere with us. I was doll crazy with a collection of my own. I would spend hours putting bobbles in their hair and cutting it. Susan and I would play in the woods and climb the trees and make dens. We rode our bikes everywhere and went to the park every weekend. We had sleepovers and played board games. We did so much together. When Susan joined the Girl Guides, I did too. When she got bored with them, she joined the Brownies. I copied that too. One thing we did do was to get black from head to toe. Mum would say to me, ‘How do you get so covered in muck?’ My elbows and knees were caked in mud. Mum would say, ‘Lucy over the road is always so immaculate and clean.’ She couldn’t make out why I was so filthy. The reason was Susan and I rolled in mud at the park and made mud pies in the back garden. If there was mud, trees, and grass, we would be in our element for hours and hours.

Our back garden had a shed at the bottom; and Gail, Teresa, Ann, and I would climb up the back fence and then climb on top to jump off onto the garden. But one day Teresa jumped down and broke her leg. Celia went nuts; she was quite strict compared to my mum and dad.

I developed more weird habits. Our lino in the kitchen was white, and so it became dirty very easily. I got the Vim out and scrubbed the lino until it was bright white. It felt such an achievement I kept cleaning it all the time. Then I was leapfrogging around the house instead of walking. Dad would say to Mum, ‘What’s wrong with her? She’s not normal.’ Mum would tell him to leave me alone. I would also hang on to furniture and carry a stick in the house.

Bad news came that Dad’s father died of pneumonia. We went up the hospital just before he died. I saw him lying in the hospital bed in blue-and-white striped pyjamas; but this time, he didn’t have the usual pipe between his lips.

The summer of 1976 came, and it was sports day at school. It was the hottest month of that year in July. It was all too much for me, and the heat gave me the worst migraine I ever had. I was sick in the toilets and had to be sent home. At school I hung around with Tina and Sharon, who were in my class. We had team colours, and mine was green and theirs was red. This meant I was often left out amongst the three of us. Other certain kids called me fleabag because of my scruffy clothes and dirty knees and elbows. My parents were poor, so I had hand-me-down clothes. I was bathed only once a week on a Sunday night as well. The mental bullying upset me. Gingernut—the bullies called me.

There was a park round the back to mine, so Susan and me would cut through an alley at the bottom of my road to get to it. But this alley was a special visit for me. It had the aroma of creosote. I would stop halfway and smell it for ages. The smell of soil was another one. The earthiness in it drove me into euphoria. Also, dirty potatoes was another. Mum and Dad just took me as I was at the worst of times.

At the end of July, Mum; Dad, Celia and her husband, Bill; Gail; Teresa; Ann; and me went to the coast. It was another very hot day, and I hoped I wouldn’t get a migraine from it. We played on the sand dunes, paddled in the sea, made sand castles, and had chips and ice cream. That evening I was burning up and felt lightheaded and sick. The next day my back and shoulders were red and sore. Mum rushed me to the doctor’s. I had heatstroke. I was given some soothing lotion Mum had to apply on my back for the next five days. I lay on the sofa the whole time in agony until the time came for Mum to peel off the dead skin. I looked at Mum and thought, Why did you let me burn? Mum loved Radio 1 and had the music on all day while she did the household chores. Lying on the sofa all that week bored, I kept hearing one song that brought tears to my eyes. it was ‘Silly Love Songs’ by Wings.

When I got better, I developed tonsillitis and agonising earache. The earache was so bad that it sounded like it was raining outside. I kept asking Mum if it was raining; but she said, ‘No, it’s not.’ In the last few years, I had mumps, chicken pots, migraines, bed-wetting, and now earache.

‘Why am I always ill?’ I asked Mum.

‘It’s because you are a freckled, red-haired girl with fair skin, so you are special,’ Mum said.

Dad never seemed