Punished: A mother’s cruelty. A daughter’s survival. A secret that couldn’t be told. by Vanessa Steel Page A

me from her so I had to look after myself, basically by staying out of trouble.
    ‘No one is going to hit either of you here,’ Nan told us firmly. ‘It will never happen so you can stop worrying right now. Vanessa, how often has she hit you? Once? Or twice?’ She looked at my face. ‘More?’
    ‘Lots, but please don’t say anything, Nan,’ I begged her. ‘She’ll be cross with me. It’s only when God tells her to do it.’
    ‘Is that so? I’ll make sure she’s not cross with you.’ She looked angry but forced herself to smile at us. ‘Now who wants a biscuit? It’s a lovely day, so why don’t the two of you go and help Granddad in the garden?’
    Mum had been visiting one of her sisters who lived nearby and she was picking us up at five o’clock. I think Nan sent me to the garden so she could have a word in private but as soon as I heard the doorbell, I sneaked indoors and hid behind the kitchen door so I could eavesdrop on their chat.
    Nan reiterated what Nigel and I had told her, and I heard Mum snort with derision. ‘Unbelievable! That girl has the most fertile imagination. I don’t know where she gets it from.’
    ‘But Nigel backed up her story.’
    ‘I’m afraid Vanessa has been teaching him to lie on her behalf. There have been quite a few instances of it recently. She’s a very dramatic child.’
    ‘She seemed scared of some canes Thomas was carrying. She’s not that good an actress.’
    ‘Honestly, Winifred, you can’t seriously think I beat her with a cane. Where are the marks? She’s making it all up, just like she makes up those stories about voices in herhead. She’s got a powerful imagination and sometimes the distinction gets blurred between truth and fantasy. We need to keep an eye on that.’
    ‘She said that God tells you to punish her. Why would she say that?’
    ‘I don’t know why, but she’s got this idea that God’s people come to her bedroom at night because she’s been naughty. As I said, she’s a very imaginative child. Now, if you don’t mind I have to get these kids home and bathed and into bed. It’s getting late.’
    I darted back into the garden so as not to be caught sneaking around. Nan said nothing more to me about it but I think she was watching out for cane marks from then on. If I stayed overnight, she always sponged me very carefully in the bath, and even when I just visited for the afternoon she often came to the toilet with me so she could surreptitiously have a look at my bottom when I pulled my pants down.
    Of course, if she knew I was staying over at Nan’s, Mum would make sure there weren’t any marks to be seen. That’s why Monday was always such a bad day for me. Not only was Mum in a vile mood after a day spent doing the washing, but she could also let loose with the cane, safe in the knowledge that the ugly purple stripes and bruising would be on the mend by the time I next went to the Caseys’.
    * * *
    There’s an old saying that if you beat one devil out, you beat seven in. I walked on eggshells at home when Mum was around, but that didn’t stop me making my smallgestures of defiance, no matter how dangerous they were for me. One time I took a packet of raw jelly from the shelf in the spider cupboard. I absolutely loved jelly and Mum never made it for us. I sneaked that packet upstairs to my bedroom and hid it in the secret place under the wardrobe, then, when I dared, I could break off a chunk and put it under my tongue so it melted and filled my mouth with a sickly-sweet goo.
    I was also getting a little bit braver about telling Dad what was going on at home – not that it did me any good. One evening, I told Dad about the spider cupboard. I’d said something cheeky to him and I instinctively put my hands over my head for protection.
    ‘Are you going to lock me in the spider cupboard?’ I asked.
    ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded sharply.
    ‘That’s where Mummy puts me when I’ve been naughty. She locks me in