Children were not supposed to talk to adults. It wasn’t right. Girls were not good enough for boys. My brother was ashamed of me. He went off with his cousins and had fun which he never tired of talking about. There were no girls. And that’s the way my mother wanted it. She despised girls. She frowned when she looked at them. Smiled when she looked at boys. Said ‘I do so like to see boys enjoying themselves.’ I remember being taken to the beach one day. I was surrounded by people. I wanted to talk to a girl. But all the girls were with adults and it was wrong to talk to strangers and if a parent talked to me and I ignored them that would be rude. So I felt so cut off from everybody. I was five then. I get angry when people talk about ‘lonely old people’ but at least they can talk to strangers and not be blamed for it. But lonely children are invisible. I was got rid of in the grounds of a big hall when I was nine. Everybody else was with someone. I was totally alone. People don’t seem to care about lonely children. In my life girls didn’t matter. It was always so important for mothers to have what they wanted. And she wanted me to be alone because sisters are spiteful, a worry and can’t pass on the family name.

 

It’s more lonely when there’s people there who treat you as if you don’t matter or don’t exist than if there’s nobody there at all.

 

Children can only take so much pain. Once it passes the threshold permanent damage follows. I couldn’t take any more exclusion. But there was nothing I could do about it. Only parents wishes count. Girls don’t matter.