During her childhood, Lisa was subjected to horrific abuse by the people who should have been looking after her…
Putting on a nice dress and my best shoes, I hurried downstairs.
‘C’mon, let’s go,’
Mum said, as she marched me, my dad and older siblings out the door.
We made our way to church and I couldn’t wait to sing the hymns.
It was the only time I had any fun, because my home life was terrible.
I was never treated with love
or affection, and Mum was a
drill sergeant.
In the middle of the night, she’d make me and my siblings get up to clean the house.
In time, my parents divorced and Dad moved out.
Mum started to host singles parties, and that’s how she became friends with a man named Gerald.
While she was at work, I was often left alone with him.
‘Do you want to go out for
ice cream?’ he asked one day, when I was five.
‘Yeah!’ I shrieked excitedly.
We set off in his car, but eventually we pulled up in a field.
There, he raped me.
I didn’t understand what
was happening, but it was so horrific I blocked it from my mind afterwards.
‘If you tell anyone about this, your mum will die,’ he sneered.
Being only little,
I believed his threats.
One evening, Gerald gave me a colouring book, and I sat happily on the floor with it.
Then he sat next to me and his hand crept up my dress.
As he was molesting me, my sister walked in.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ he replied, as he leapt up.
Next day, Mum sat us all around the table and asked me about it.
I was too young to understand or explain what had happened, but afterwards, I never saw Gerald again.
Dad got wind of what happened.
‘I understand Gerald molested you,’ he told me. ‘Don’t make a big deal about it.’
‘OK,’ I replied, confused.
Within weeks, Mum met a new man called Fred.
‘He’s taking us to a nudist camp,’ she said.
‘I don’t want to take my clothes off,’ I told her.
‘Tough,’ she replied.
When we got there, I was embarrassed being naked in front of everyone.
A few of the men there groped my privates, and I was relieved when we went home.
One night shortly afterwards, Mum called for me from her bedroom.
As I walked in, it looked like Fred was hurting her.
‘Lisa, you should know what sex is,’ Fred told me. ‘Sit there and watch.’
I had no idea what they were doing, but I felt uncomfortable.
After six months, they broke up.
She then met a lovely, kind man, who actually seemed to care about me and my siblings.
But sadly, they broke up after three years together.
When I was 11, Mum sat me down.
‘Your sister met a nice couple on the train called Albert and Louise,’ she said. ‘They’re going to take you to the nudist camp.’
‘I don’t want to
go back there,’ I replied.
The thought filled me with dread.
‘You’re going,’ Mum said sternly.
I’d become a secret smoker,
and when they came to pick me up, Louise offered me cigarettes.
I thought she was cool, and instantly felt comfortable
with these two strangers.
After a day at the camp, they took me back to their house.
‘The rule is to stay naked in the house as well,’ Albert said.
That night, they tried to force me into sexual acts, but I refused.
‘You know, Lisa, it’s OK if you want to have sex with me,’ Albert told me.
He was 40 years old.
‘What?' I replied. ‘No, I don’t want that.’
He smirked.
Mum made me visit them every weekend, even if I didn’t want to go.
But mostly, I liked being with them because I thought they loved me – which was more
than I could say for Mum.
Soon, Albert made me watch the film Pretty Baby every time I was at their house.
It was about a 12-year-old
girl whose virginity was auctioned off to a man.
Albert would usually molest
me while we watched it.
‘If you had a real father, you would want to have sex with him,’ he said.
Over time, the pair forced me into sex with them, usually after giving me drugs or alcohol.
They’d often take photos of me, and they made it seem like
a fun, normal thing to do.
It carried on for two years.
Then one day, I was at school when I was called into the headteacher’s office.
There waiting for me were
two police officers and Mum.
‘Do you know Albert and Louise?’ one of the detectives
asked.
‘Yeah,’ I replied.
As they questioned me, I didn’t want to say too much, because I didn’t want to get them
in trouble.
Then, I was taken to a care home
while Mum was investigated too.
Soon, I was
called to testify in court against Albert and Louise, and they were convicted
for sex crimes against children.
I still didn’t know what to think.
Months later, I was allowed home with Mum.
But far from being a concerned parent, she called me a slut.
It added to my belief that I should feel guilty and ashamed.
Then I met our neighbour’s son Eddie, who was 34.
He’d moved back in with his mum and, even though I was still only 14, he invited me over.
We kissed, and I excitedly thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend.
I didn’t know then that our age gap was wrong.
But he started taking explicit photos of me, and I realised that he didn’t really care about me.
I was crushed.
When I was 17, I began to go to church regularly.
My faith helped me realise that I’d been sexually abused as a child.
I didn’t know how to deal with it. But first, I got sober from drugs and alcohol.
I met a wonderful man called Robert, and we got married
when I was 19.
Finally, I moved out of Mum’s house.
A year later, I had our first son.
I knew I had to start dealing with
my trauma – not
only for me, but to be a better wife and mother.
So I started going to sexual abuse recovery groups.
‘I’ve decided I want to be a therapist,’ I told Robert.
It wasn’t an easy road, but eventually I qualified to be a marriage and family therapist with a speciality in trauma.
I’d kept in touch with my parents, but they never took responsibility for what they
put me through.
When I confided in Dad
about my childhood sexual abuse, his response totally floored me.
‘Wow, Lisa, you’ve had a very extensive sex life,’ he said.
I was shocked and hurt.
So when I was 33, I cut him and Mum out of my life.
By then, I’d had another two sons, and didn’t want them around my boys.
My parents have since
passed away.
Looking back, I think Mum must have known Albert and Louise were predators.
She didn’t know them, yet
let them take me to a nudist camp alone.
Eddie was eventually convicted of sexual crimes against multiple children too.
It’s heartbreaking to know
that my own
parents didn’t
love me enough
to protect me.
But I’ve learnt
to forgive, so
that I don’t hold
on to anger.
Coming to terms with my abuse has been extremely difficult and I was diagnosed
with PTSD.
But I’m in a good place now.
I have a great husband, supportive friends, and three beautiful boys.
I’m also in the process of writing a book, to help other victims realise they have
nothing to be ashamed of.
There is light after darkness, and I’m proof of that.
Lisa Plumb, 56
● Lisa has waived her right to anonymity.