Dawn McConnell - I Own You

Chapter 4

The Last Time

John seemed very proud of himself as he flashed the large gold watch in my direction.

Look what Dad gave me! He grinned, flipping his wrist one way and the other so that the face of the watch reflected harsh sunlight into my eight-year-old eyes.

What is it? I asked, unimpressed.

Its a Rolex, he said. Dad got me a Rolex.

Later that day, when Mum came in from the hotel to cook tea, I asked her: Mum, whats a Rolex?

A Rolex, darling, is a very expensive watch you get when you do something good.

So what did John do that was good?

He got into Cambridge University. Hes going to study to be a physicist.

Is that good, then?

Yes, its very good. Your dad and I are very proud of your brother.

It was certainly a happy day for me, too, when, aged eighteen, my brother left home for his first term at Cambridge. It wasnt even in Scotland! John would be hundreds of miles away most of the time, only coming home in the holidays.

Dad, for a change, was very pleased with John and in the run-up to his departure he and Mum lavished money on him to pay for his new books, suits and shoes, not to mention a trunk, ironing board and a host of smaller, essential items he said he needed. Mum looked like she would burst with pride the day he left in his smart blazer and tie, all set for his new life in England.

Youre going to break a few hearts, she teased him, picking imaginary lint off his jacket lapel. She could hardly keep her hands off him.

Och, leave the boy alone, Dad smiled, though I could tell he was equally proud. For the first time I could remember, I saw my dad hugging my brother as they exchanged their goodbyes on the platform of Glasgow train station. And was that a tear in his eye?

John was so puffed up with pride he was unbearably smug. The way he was acting, youd think hed won a bloody Nobel Prize! I stood behind Mum, embarrassed by the whole scene.

Bye John, I said flatly.

See ya, Squirt. He smiled, and then he winked. I could almost hear what he was thinking: Youre not going to tell anyone our little secret while Im away, are you?

I met his gaze with a quick shake of my head. The abuse had stopped in the last six months when John got a girlfriend, and I had tried to put it behind me. No, I wouldnt tell a soul. Not now. Not ever. His secret was safe with me.

The fact was, I was embarrassed by what John had done to me and I wanted to forget it had ever happened. So I buried those horrible memories and, thankfully, he stopped doing it after he left home. The rare times I saw him in the holidays he kept to his room, smoking pot and playing loud music.

At this time my parents moved me out of my small box-room and into the old playroom, which was a whole lot bigger. The window looked out onto the main road and I liked to lean out every morning and watch the world go by. A large holly bush partially blocked the view, which meant that I could look out from my window seat but passers-by couldnt peer in.

I felt happy in my new room. I imagined that I had moved into a new world, a new home where the old things of the past never existed and dirty big brothers didnt do horrible things to their scared little sisters.

Home life was certainly easier now that John was away. At school, too, I found a fresh enthusiasm for everything the world had to offer. I threw myself into art and sport. Susy and I cycled down to the public pool every morning, where we took swimming lessons from 5.30 a.m. till 7 a.m. It suited Mum because it meant we were busy while she was cooking up the breakfasts at the hotel. Afterwards, we got ourselves a hot chocolate and sweet yum yum each from the corner cafe, which slightly compensated for going into school with cold, wet hair on my back.

During the summer months we played tennis every weekend and in the winter it was field hockey. I was careful to keep my grades high as Dad constantly complained about the money these bloody kids are costing us in school fees. It was one of my parents regular rows, the money they had to spend on our private education. For Mum, there was never a question in her mind that it was worth the work and sacrifice. But Dad, well, he was never convinced.

You two had better knuckle down and work hard, hed grumble on the days he dropped us off at school when the polo team had the use of the pool and we had a well-deserved lie-in.

If I find your grades slipping itll be straight to the local comp with you both and then your dad will get to enjoy himself a little more and work a little less.

The prospect terrified me I had seen the kids from the tough Glasgow estates who hung around the gates of the local secondary school in their tight skirts, smoking, sneering and flicking V-signs at each other. How could I survive in such a place? For there was no doubt about it, even in the small, privileged world of my private school, my friends and I were known as the squares.

Of course, we didnt see ourselves that way; I was just into sport and art and I didnt really know about anything else. Certainly not boys. Besides, our parents were strict with us we werent allowed to wear the latest fashions from Topshop or Dolcis, we didnt hang around in town at the weekends and we werent allowed to go to parties (not that we were invited to many). I didnt have the same kind of freedom I saw other children have, the ones who got to take the bus into town on their own or hang out in the park for hours at a time. No, all my movements had to be accounted for at all times and I obeyed, without a thought, because that was the way I had been raised. If I had any free time between the swimming, tennis and homework, I was set to work helping out in the hotel kitchen or serving the guests. In the holidays I was sent off to hockey camp or tennis camp for weeks at a time and that suited me just fine.

In this way, I grew up, cosseted and shielded from the tough, grimy world on my doorstep. My long blonde hair bounced off my shoulders while my limbs became strong and toned by years of sports and exercise. At twelve years old I was an innocent, oblivious to the girls in my year who flirted and dated boys, obsessed only with tennis and art. And I had almost, almost allowed myself to forget what had happened to me as a child.

If only... If only he had just left me alone.

But he didnt. That last time, when I was twelve years old... that was the worst time ever.

It had been a hot, clear day that Saturday in July and I had played several hours of tennis, catching the sun enough to leave my skin throbbing with heat. I lay in my bed that night, sweating and struggling to sleep in the still, humid air. Despite the fact that Id left my bedroom window open, I felt no breeze at all and it took me ages finally to fall asleep.

Next thing, I was woken up by the scrape of an arm against the window frame. In another second, the whole window was wide open and John had flung himself into my room, falling onto the floor and laughing his head off, high as a kite on drugs. This scruffy, long-haired student was a far cry from the smart, blazered boy who had left home four years before.

Shhhh! he giggled, putting one finger against his lips.

A wave of revulsion washed over me as he crawled into my bed. I felt my whole body tense up as I lay there, not speaking, not saying a word. Though I was taller now, I still felt small when it came to John. The closeness of his body made me freeze inside and I was unable to do anything to stop him; unable to do anything at all as he lifted my nightie up past my waist and unbuttoned his trousers, pushing them down with one hand.