Anna Ruston - Secret Slave: Kidnapped and abused for 13 years. This is my story of survival.

SECRET
SLAVE

Kidnapped and
abused for 13 years.
This is my story
of survival.

Anna Ruston

with Jacquie Buttriss

Published by Blink Publishing
3.25, The Plaza,
535 Kings Road,
Chelsea Harbour,
London, SW10 0SZ

www.blinkpublishing.co.uk

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Paperback 9781911274100
Ebook 9781911274117

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or circulated in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing of the publisher.

A CIP catalogue of this book is available from the British Library.

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Printed and bound by Clays Ltd, St. Ives Plc

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Text copyright Anna Ruston, 2016

Papers used by Blink Publishing are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.

Blink Publishing is an imprint of the Bonnier Publishing Group www.bonnierpublishing.co.uk

To Jamie, his mum and our four children

This book is a work of non-fiction, based on the life, experiences and recollections of Anna Ruston, who is using a pseudonym. Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect identity and privacy.

Would you like to come and meet my family? My mother likes having visitors. She would love to meet a nice English girl like you. Maliks friendly smile gave me a warm feeling. He was a stocky man, overweight, not good-looking and about twice my age, but he seemed kind, and I wasnt doing anything special.

Well... I hesitated, looking across the taxi office towards Val, to see what she thought. But she was deep into a prickly phone conversation with someone, so I couldnt interrupt.

Its time for my break. I can drive you there now to say hello. We neednt be away long. He stood up. Come on, just a cup of tea with my mum?

OK. I nodded. It was a bit claustrophobic in the taxi base, and smelt of the kebabs the drivers had been eating that evening, so I could do with some fresh air. Id probably be back before Val even noticed.

Malik ushered me to his taxi and opened the front passenger door for me.

Where does your mum live? I asked, in a moment of uncertainty. I didnt want to be away too long.

Not far, just a few streets away.

As we drove along, I looked out at all the lights in the windows of houses that we passed. Why did other peoples houses always look so warm and inviting, like my great-grandmas used to be? I had always been happy living there with her, until she died when I was ten. I had never even slept in a bed on my own until the night after she died. Now I didnt really have a home. Rejected by my mother and abused by my violent father, I was a naive, unloved runaway, staying on Vals sofa. She was kind to me, but nobody really cared or loved me, like my great-grandma used to do.

How was school today? Malik asked as we turned onto the ring road.

All right. I shrugged.

What lessons did you have?

Lots of lessons, mostly boring ones, I sighed. Art was good.

Is art your favourite subject?

Not usually, but it was good today.

So, what subject do you like best?

Mmm... I wasnt used to being asked about my day. Having just turned 15, I was a typical teenager, so I wasnt into conversations about school lessons. But Malik seemed to take a genuine interest in me. His smile warmed me at a time when I craved affection that made me feel good.

I like gym, I said. And dance.

He glanced at me with a grin. I can see you have a good body for dancing, he said. In Pakistan, we love dancing the women do some beautiful dances. Maybe my sister could teach you to dance the Sammi.

Maybe... I nodded. Are we nearly there?

Yes, he answered, turning into a side street. Only two more minutes.

Sure enough, two minutes later he pulled into the driveway of a large semi-detached house.

Here we are.

Its a big house. I could see the dark outline against the starry sky.

Yes, its two houses made into one.

Do you live here too?

Yes, nearly all my family lives here. My mum, some of my brothers, their wives and children, and my sister and her family too.

Wow!

I couldnt see much detail in the darkness, but there were lights on in most of the windows. It looked a welcoming house.

Come on. He led me to the front door. Take your shoes off.

Why?

Because we always take our shoes off when we go inside the house.

What for?

To keep it clean, and because thats our way. He smiled as he unlaced his shoes. Come and meet the family.

I took my shoes off, left them next to his in the porch, and stepped into the hallway. He put on some flip-flop sandals, but there was nothing for me so I walked barefoot.

He took me into a large living room with three long settees arranged as three sides of a square. On the fourth wall there was a gas fire and a hole built through the wall, with a badly fitting door that seemed to lead into the adjoining house, behind the fireplace. There were a lot of people, watching a tiny TV in the corner, showing a Pakistani film.

Come and sit down, he said, leading me to a settee. Several of the women got up to make space and went to the kitchen but an old lady sat still and gave me a half-smile. This is my mother, Farhat Aziz. He pointed to me and said, Anna.

Hello, I said, sitting down next to Malik.

Next, he turned to the men in the room. And these are my brothers.

They all smiled and looked pleased to see me.

A sad-eyed young woman, about ten years older than me, came in with a tray.

This is Muneeza. She is my brother Khalids first wife.

I gave her a smile as she passed me a cup of milky tea.

Get some chapattis, Malik ordered her with a stern expression. I hadnt seen this side of him before. I had a moments hesitation: maybe I shouldnt have come. But then Malik flashed a smile at me and I felt fine again. I expect youre hungry? he asked.

Yes, I nodded.

Muneeza came back with a large plate of buttered chapattis. They looked a bit different to the one I ate when Val and I had a takeaway a few days before.

Theyre home-made, Malik explained, as if reading my thoughts.

Yes, its very good, I agreed.

Just then, Muneeza brought a bowl of minced meat with a strange scent and put it down on the table in front of me, along with a bowl of oranges, cut into quarters. They all looked at me, so I took a spoonful of meat to taste. It stung my tongue, but I tried not to pull a face.

Do you like it? asked Malik. Its lamb with Punjabi spices.

I nodded my head. Not bad.

Malik and his brothers all laughed.

I hadnt realised how hungry I was, so I helped myself to another chapatti, partly to take the taste of the spices away, and sucked an orange quarter, which tasted quite bitter to me, but I wasnt really a fruit eater.

After Id eaten, his mother, tried to talk to me, but I couldnt understand anything she said. Her smile vanished and a look of contempt took its place. The brothers were talking amongst themselves, so I ate a third chapatti and fidgeted as the time passed.