Toni Maguire - Please Protect Us

Also by Toni Maguire

Dont Tell Mummy

When Daddy Comes Home

Helpless

Nobody Came

Dont You Love Your Daddy?

Cant Anyone Help Me?

Pretty Maids All In A Row

They Stole My Innocence

Did You Ever Love Me?

Daddys Little Girl

Silent Child

Published by John Blake Publishing

An imprint of Bonnier Books UK

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Paperback: 978-1-78946-463-4

eBook: 978-1-78946-464-1

Audiobook: 978-1-78946-504-4

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 from the publisher.

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

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Copyright Toni Maguire, Ryan Fisher, Phil Fisher 2021

Toni Maguire and Ryan & Phil Fisher have asserted their moral right to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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.

This book is a work of non-fiction, based on the life, experiences and recollections of Ryan and Phil Fisher. Certain details in this story, including names and locations, have been changed to protect the identity and privacy of the authors, their family and those mentioned.

John Blake Publishing is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

www.bonnierbooks.co.uk

For Helen,
who has been the most understanding, patient and thoughtful human being since the day we met.

You have never judged us in anyway and never thought any less of us as people. The road to where we are now has been, at times, hard and very painful but, somehow, you have always found the strength to put your arms around us both and give us comfort when we most needed it. We are and will always be eternally grateful to you. You are very special and we are lucky to have you in our lives.

Contents

Since writing my own story in Dont Tell Mummy and the sequel, When Daddy Came Home, both Sunday Times bestsellers, I have received many emails from readers who have also survived traumatic childhoods. Some of the stories have been so compelling that I have sought to turn them into books. The story of the Fisher twins, in Please Protect Us, was one such story.

It is only the second book that I have written about boys. After reading all the emails I received from Ryan and his brother Phil, I began to see that in some ways it is harder for men to accept the damage abuse has done to them when they were little boys; that years after it ends, there are still so many conflicting emotions left behind. It is only over the last few years that people have become aware of the abuse happening in various organisations, which has alerted me to how hard it is for men to come forward. And it was mainly that which made me want to get the twins story out there.

Over the months I worked on their story, it became very much a team effort. I understand that reliving childhood horrors is never easy but Ryan and Phil, hugely supported by Helen, Ryans wife, have guided me in how best to share their story. Telling it here has been cathartic for the relationship between the brothers and, as you will see within these pages, Ryan has taken a huge step forward as he and Helen now help other young people who have had traumatic beginnings.

Lockdown has been a time of reflection for many people and my inbox has never been so full with stories to write. Working with my wonderful editors, Beth Eynon, and Jane Donovan, I look forward to bringing some more of them to you in the near future.

Toni Maguire

August 2021

Grooming

Ryan

It must have been when Phil, my twin, and I were somewhere between the ages of four and five that I told our mother I didnt like her brother-in-law. I chose the time when she was in the kitchen, her hands in the sink, washing up the breakfast dishes, to blurt out that he smelt nasty, but then I didnt have the vocabulary to explain that it was the smell of stale cigarette smoke crawling up into my nostrils that made me feel sick that I was talking about.

I can remember her shoulders tightening with exasperation before she turned around to glare at me.

Dont be so rude, Ryan. I dont want to hear those sort of words coming out of your mouth again. Do you understand?

I did.

Still, those sharp words were not quite enough to make me hold my tongue. I was desperate to get everything out. For Mum to know just what was troubling Phil and me. And then I thought, It would all stop, wouldnt it? Small fists clenched, back straight, I used up the remnants of my courage to carry on. I had the words right there in my head that would have got her attention: Mum, Phil and I dont like the games he plays with us. Cant you tell him to stop? There, Id said it. And I let my breath out in a long exhalation of relief.

We wouldnt have to see Clive ever again, I thought gleefully.

Maybe if I hadnt been standing just behind Mum, she might have read something in my expression that would have made her ask a few searching questions. Unfortunately, it was her back I had been grumbling to. A grumble that was enough to make her spin round, soapy hands in the air and a look of annoyance on her face.

You ungrateful little boy, she said angrily. Just look at all the lovely presents your Uncle Clive brings when he comes. Not to mention all those times hes taken you and Phil out in the car and treated you to ice cream. Now, if you cant think of anything nice to say about your family, make yourself scarce and get out from under my feet, will you?

With that, she turned away, not seeing the tears forming in my eyes and then slowly running down my cheeks.

I know now it was my 4-year-olds lack of courage that prevented me from telling her just what the games were that Phil and I wanted her to stop. If only I had waited until I was a little older, then I could have told her all about the new game that he had invented, the one we particularly hated. He called it the Up and Down Game. It consisted of him running his hands down our stomachs, before sliding his fingers under the elastic of our shorts. Ah, got them! he would say each time his fingers wrapped firmly around our small penises. And we would look up at his face flushed with excitement and just pray for the game to be over. Not that he was in a hurry to end it. Once he held us both so tightly in his hands, we were scared of moving. He waited a few seconds until there was not so much as a wriggle stirring our bodies and then, those long, thin fingers of his would start rubbing the parts of our bodies we thought were just used for peeing.