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Maria's

Rrring, rrring. I picked up the phone "Mum" it was my eldest son Paul who lived in Scotland. My heart skipped a beat it was early on a Thursday morning in January 1995. He never phoned during the day, was something wrong with my grandchildren? Paul had my first-born grandson and twin granddaughters; don't panic, I said to myself. "Mum is he there?" He being Peter Harvey his adoptive father, it had been a long time since Paul had referred to him as Dad and I was about to be told why. I replied that 'he' was out, why do you want to know? " Mum the local paper has just come out and I have to tell you there is a bit in it about him. I have spoken to John and Alan and they are both coming to see you". Why had he spoken to his brothers and why were they coming to see me. I was relieved the children were all right but confused over this mysterious conversation. "What is in the paper? What does it say?" I wanted to know. I was here in Wales, 300 miles away, so I could not just nip over to the paper shop and buy his local paper. There was silence for what seemed like ages and the unknown frightened me. I sharply said, "Paul what does it say?" "Mum, he is being investigated by the police for Child Abuse. Alan and John will tell you about it." I remember saying, " you tell me now." Then I heard a word every mother dread's come at me down the phone line, 'PAEDOPHILE'. I shouted at Paul, "paedophile, what do you mean, who is"? " He is Mum, we know he is."

I went into shock, I was numb, my brain was in overload, it kept going through my mind, 23 years, and I had lived with this man for 23 years. I had started off with hope, which went to apathy before turning to distrust and dislike of him. Now I felt fear over what I was hearing and hatred towards someone to whom I had entrusted my boys. WHAT had he done to them? I was sick with fear of the unknown. Now was to begin them nightmare that continues to this day. I had felt something was wrong with the man as our marriage disintegrated over the years. I sometimes thought he was a womaniser, sometimes thought he was gay. But I assumed these where the normal doubts of an unhappy wife. I just knew as the years had gone on I did not particularly care as long as my children were happy and secure, now I was about to pay the price for my stupidity.

If only I had followed my instincts? If only I had the courage when I was younger? Maybe if I had this ---, whatever it was, would not have happened. Hindsight is not given to you nor can you learn it, all you can do is refer to it after the event. On and on my jelly brain went but it was too late now. Life was about to push a knife my heart and twist and twist it. Somehow I knew at that moment, in some way, I would have to accept that I was not blameless, no matter what happened next, and all the 'if only's' could not change what had already happened. Imagination was my best friend as a child now it was to become my worst enemy.

Both my parents came from large families. I was the first born of my family in April 1948. My parents found it difficult to hide their disappointment that I was a girl when they so much wanted a boy. Two years later my mother gave birth to a son, but he died of cot death when about 8 months old. This devastated my parents, especially as my mother was unable to have any more children. I was left the only child of a Catholic mother and a Protestant Father. I had no idea as a child that I was considered to be the product of a mixed marriage. Times have changed now but 50 years ago in Scotland Religion was an important part of life. It continues to be a stigma to this day to a lot of single-minded people who believe theirs is the true faith. Yet none of them will really know until they die who is in charge up there.

I was raised as a Catholic and grew up feeling that I was being used to atone for the sin my mother had committed by marrying out of her faith. She had been cast out by her family, and not accepted by my father's family, when they had first married. She missed her family and it took her a couple of years to get back into their favour. Sunday was the worst day of the week for me; I could end up going to Mass twice if any of my mother's family visited on that day. I learned very young how to deal with being a "half and half " I would joke about it, saying to those who would tease me, " at least I have got two chances of getting into heaven." For all the preaching I endured as a child I am glad to say I have not grown up to be embittered but neither have I become devout? I believe in God and in many ways he has been good to me. But his choice to make me short and very fat as a child was not so good. So he gave me a gift to compensate for his mistake, a sense of humour. This has helped me though out my life, and life has taught me the ability to make others laugh with me rather than at me.

From as far back as I can remember I knew I was not like other children, my parents did not allow me to bring friends home I had to keep them outdoors. They never took me with them if they went anywhere, I was left with whoever would look after me. When I was about 7, my mother's sister, who already had 4 boys, had another son, but a difficult birth left her quite ill. I was told to stay with her for a while to help her and my mother took the baby to live with her. I was never very close to my parents but I knew I did not want to live with my aunt. Sadly a 7-year-old had no choice 50 years ago; they had not invented child line yet. My parents kept him (Joseph) for 14 years and I spent most of my childhood floating between the two families, usually spending weekdays at my Aunts and weekends with my parents. My aunt went on to have 3 more children, all girls. As a daughter I was used to ferry my cousin to and from my mother to his mother. As a niece I was used as the aunts assistant, the shopper, cleaner etc. I resented the affection my parents showed to Joseph my cousin and was spiteful towards him as a child. I am sorry for this now because I realise it was not his fault they gave me away. I also understand now how my aunt must have felt loosing her child, even if it was to her sister. I was no substitute for her own flesh and blood she wanted her son back. But pressure from her other sister and my mother who both insisted she could not cope, forced her to have me.

I don't have any really pleasant memories of my childhood, as the only girl amongst 4 boy's I was always on the outside or in the way. I learned very quickly to stay in the background and do as I was told; especially by my cousins they were older and bigger than I was. I was often the brunt of there teasing and if blame were to be apportioned they would use me. I was a girl in a boy's world. This made me very insecure as a person and if I find myself in a situation where I am made to feel uncomfortable I will back away to avoid getting hurt. Trusting other people has always been very difficult for me, and when my trust is broken I don't forgive easily. Given all of this, one would have thought I would have been more prepared for the nasty things life can throw at you but no, I was not. Probably because of my deep need to be loved and wanted for myself, I have continued to be easily conned by anyone who is clever enough to get past my defences. I am a giver by nature, and this has always been one of my failings because it is hard to know when giving (whatever it is, love, time, money,) is being taken with a good heart.

By the age of 16 I was so dreadfully unhappy with my lot in life as most teenagers are, I would have done anything to have a home of my own. I was still wandering between my aunt's and my parents and not really wanted by any of them. Desperate to be wanted by someone, as soon as I got a boyfriend I pulled out all the stop's and all but forced him to marry me.

(I would have married The Hunchback of Notre Dame) He was a soldier and I wanted to believe he loved me. He was a good man but I used him as my ticket to freedom. At first we lived in Army accommodation, and soon had a son, Paul. This beautiful child was to cause me more heartache than I could have imagined and none of it would be his fault. My husband spent most of his time abroad with his unit and I would only see him when he had leave.

In my own little Wendy house with my own little baby I was really happy for the first time in my life. My parents were delighted to have a grandson and I was so pleased to have their approval. Then the inevitable happened, one day he wrote telling me he had met someone else and would not be coming back to me. Still very young and immature I was so scared; I turned to my mother for support. She was more than willing to offer to take my baby and me, (he was only 8 months old,) to live with her. Although I still had my army allowance my mother insisted I find a job. We both found it difficult to be in the same house, as we had nothing to talk about. She could be quite a dominant woman and I could never argue against her. I decided to become a nurse, this was what my father had been as a young man and although he showed a lot of affection towards Paul, I still wanted him to notice me. My mother was in her element she loved looking after my son, and I was not aware how this was affecting my cousin Joseph who was now being rejected by my mother.

This lasted for a while (almost 2 years) until I came home from work one day to find she had gone, taking my son and Joseph with her. She had left to go and live with her husband's brother, (my uncle). I vaguely knew this man or any of my Fathers family because I had never been allowed to associate with any of them, as they were protestant's. At first I was totally confused, how had this happened? Although it was never talked about I knew my father was an alcoholic and hard to live with and I realised my mother was unhappy at times, but to run away with his brother, this I found hard to understand. My Father was even more surprised than I was. I was frantic with fear because he was so angry, he wanted her back and he wanted to kill his brother. I knew when he started to drink he was unreasonable and impossible to talk to. Knowing this about him none of his family would tell him where they were and this made him drink more. In the eyes of her family my mother had committed a mortal sin (Adultery) and she had dumped Joseph back with his mother giving no explanation. They were all disgusted with her behaviour so none of them would tell us anything. I just wanted my baby back and for my mother to tell me why this had happened.

It took my father and I, a month to find them. They had set up home in a pokey little flat and she had told her new neighbours that my son was hers. My father caused a dreadful scene and as he and his brother argued I could not help but wonder at how much alike they looked. I had not seen this man for many years and knew very little about him accept what I had overheard during the argument and from my mothers family. He had left a wife and 4 grown up children to be with my mother. I remember asking her why she had gone and why she had taken Paul? I understood her claim that she had no real life with my father but I could not understand why she was claiming Paul was her child. She screamed and yelled at me as I picked up my son, telling me over and over, he was better off living with her. She never ever forgave me as long as she lived for taking him away from her. As I left her with her new partner she told me never to contact her again. I am now able to understand her bitterness towards me, she had come to believe Paul was better off with her because I could have more children but she could not.

We returned to an empty house and my father hit the bottle with a vengeance. A week later he told me I would have to move out, as we were a constant reminder to him of my mother. I knew he missed Joseph, he thought of him as his son and Joseph had called him Da and my mother nana for 14 years.

I also missed Joseph he had been the only one who could calm my father when his drinking was at its worst. I felt very sad because when I had gone he would be all alone. The time we had spent looking for my mother I had mistakenly thought my father had enjoyed being with me. Although he had never really shown me any kind of affection, I had thought he would need me now and in a way I was looking forward to caring for him. But I was wrong again.

Having nowhere to go, I contacted my (still) husband and asked for his help. He had always been a decent man and offered to take us to stay with him. This lasted for about three weeks. At first we talked about trying to sort our marriage out but we had become strangers towards each other. We both agreed it would be best if I moved to a place of my own, but not to divorce him, so that I could continue to get my army allowance. He helped me find a small flat and we said our goodbyes. About four months later I found I was pregnant.

My mother contacted me asking to see Paul, although I was reluctant at first I was very lonely so I agreed. When I told her I was pregnant she was angry but offered to find me a place to live near her. She said she would help me, as I needed to work, by looking after Paul. She soon made it very clear that she thought it best that I give up my baby as soon as it was born. She would help me with Paul but she was not prepared to help with a new baby. I worked right up until the last moment during my pregnancy saving as much as I could because I was afraid to tell her I could not give my child away. Four days after Alan was born and my mother realised I was keeping him, she offered to keep Paul but told me I would have to find my own way of managing with my new baby. I had guessed this would happen and I was prepared for it. She refused to try and understand why I would not give Paul to her and make a life with my new baby. I could not get through to her that they were both my sons and I loved and needed them. She wanted me to tell my husband he had another son and I knew why. She hoped he would take me back and she would have Paul. I just could not tell him, he had been good enough to continue to pay me my army allowance and I was the one who had gone to him so as I saw it, the baby was mine.

I left the hospital with my new baby Alan and collected Paul from my mother. Her anger towards me was so intense she closed her door on us and that was the last I was to see her for a long while. I had friends who had moved to Wales so I asked them to help me find somewhere to live. They knew my situation and found me a caravan to live in with my children. As I was unable to go out to work I subsidised my army allowance by doing a bit of hairdressing at home. This was another gift that had been given to me.

I survived for the next two years before being introduced to Peter Harvey by a friend. He seemed like a nice man and was very kind to my children. When I first met him he was tall and skinny and very self-assured. He told me he was a Social Worker but had to give up his job to care for his widowed mother who had died a few months earlier. He introduced me to his aunt and uncle who were very nice people and made me feel very welcome. Sadly they are both dead now but in a way it's a blessing because they would be heartbroken to see how their nephew has turned out. He had an older brother John who I disliked the first time I met him. He and his partner were both drunks and vulgar, crude people. She worked and John mostly lived off her only working when he had to.

Within a few months he had bought a house and asked me to marry him. Although there was no great love between us he promised to care for us and I believed he would. By this time I had given up hope of ever meeting my Mr.Right. He was very caring towards my sons and they appeared to like him so I thought to myself at the time " well what have I got to loose?" I was alone with two small children and he was offering me security for them. He also had many friends who reassured me he was a great guy.
I agreed to marry him and allow him to adopt my sons. Thus began the catalogue of errors that was to pursue me to this day. I find it very emotional to mention his name it sticks in my throat making me feel as if I am choking so I will refer to him from now on as PH.

I had not had any contact with my mother during this time and had no idea where my father was, but a friend told her where I was living and she wrote to me asking if she could visit. Always the optimist, I wrote back and invited her to come. I did not know for quite a long time the reason she had wanted to come to Wales, I had hoped it might be she missed me in some way but I was wrong. My Uncle and Mother had been evicted from their house and were in a lot of debt.
My mother had not met PH and he made such a fuss of her, she told me how lucky I was to have met such a good man. I was already feeling unhappy with him but said nothing to her. Again she found it hard to be in the same house with me and I found it upsetting to watch her pay so much attention towards Paul and almost ignore Alan. She knew this so she did not stay with me for very long. With the help of PH, she found a place for her and my Uncle to live. I was pleased to see them go as I found my uncle to be a very odd man and I could not accept him as her partner. I kept up a false relationship with them over the years but I never ever understood them.

It was not long before she contacted her sister who was still living in Scotland. She invited her to come on holiday. All had been forgiven between them and my aunt liked it so much she decided to move to be closer to her sister. All my cousins including Joseph had left home and she only had her 3 daughters living with her. So she and my uncle with their girls packed up and moved to a house close to my mother. She also liked PH and he was charming towards them all. I was gutted I had tried for years to get away from them now they were all living around me.

Very soon after we married PH's attitude towards me began to change. He stopped being so nice and would argue over the least little thing. At first I could not understand why? I knew something was wrong but did not know what? In public he was Mr, Wonderful, the lovely man who had taken on board this little woman and her two children, giving them a home. In private only towards me, not my sons (or so I believed completely for years) he was a sulky, spiteful, bully who took great pleasure in reminding me constantly of how lucky I was that he had taken pity on me and demanding to be told constantly Thank You. And the sad thing was everyone who knew us thought the same; I was supposed to be the lucky one.

The arguments between PH and myself had escalated to the point of him hitting me whenever I argued back. I hated this man so much at times but I could not tell anyone how bad things were because, 1.I did not think anyone would believe me and 2.I was too ashamed to admit I had made another mistake. I have always called my youngest, John, my Immaculate Conception. I could have called him a miracle, as sex was one of those things that happened so rarely between us. I have to admit that at the time I was grateful as the few times he had attempted to be intimate with me it had been a disaster for both of us. Yet I am sure if you were to ask him, he would say it was my fault as I was a prude and unapproachable. I was fast becoming indifferent towards PH and rarely cared where or who he was with. I stopped asking him where he was going or what he was doing because if he was not around then at least I did not have to put up with his whining. This was a mistake I would regret and this allowed him the freedom to pursue his perversion using me as his cover. If ever there was to be an addition to the 10 commandments' it should be, Thou shalt never be indifferent.

A year after John was born PH applied for and got a job as housemaster at Brynon School. It was an approved school for young offenders and was made up of various different units each having there own house parents. We moved into staff accommodation in the school and from the very beginning I hated it.

It was a wrong move for PH because even though he was much stronger than I was, I was learning fast how to be nasty in my own way towards him. It was very important to him that he was seen as, Mr. Wonderful so he had to accept a lot of my spitefulness and not say anything. I used to tell people who would sing his praises that "Yes, I was indeed lucky to have him but I would be even luckier if a UFO landed in the garden and took him away". This and other statements that I would say only made people feel sorry for him having to put up with a nasty little woman like me. I did not care what his so-called friends thought of me, if I could get a jibe at him then it was worth the hurt afterwards.

He was apparently so good at his job that he was promoted to head a special unit within the school. Although the arguments were less we avoided each other and only played the happy couple part in front of people. After a particularly nasty row between us which was noticed by other members of the staff and another threat by me that I was leaving, PH offered me a compromise. He would apply for a job that would allow me to work as well. Although I had always worked I could only do part time and did not earn a lot this had been the cause of many arguments. Almost from the beginning he made it very clear that he would not keep my children or me and I had to contribute. I now realise this was his way of getting me out of the house, it was not the money he wanted it was to get access to my son's. I believed my children were very happy with PH, he would take them everywhere and they only had to ask for something and he would move heaven and earth to get it for them. I agreed if it meant I could earn more and I also have to admit the thought of getting away from my mother was a great incentive towards my compliance.

He successfully applied for the post of Officer in Charge of Nortons Children's home in Scotland and I was offered the post of Housemother. It was a residential post meaning we lived in the home on the top floor. The pay was much better than I expected and I was as pleased as punch. Another bonus was I did not have to go out to work and leave my children, I just had to go downstairs in the home and I was at work.

Norton was a beautiful old house, which had been converted years before into a home for children, most of who were in need of foster care but as foster parents were hard to find these children were dumped in Norton. In the beginning I found it very hard to be both mother to 3 boys and housemother to 15 other children. I could do the mother part but as a housemother I was being paid for a job I had no training for. I relied on PH's experience and reassurance that I was doing the job properly. He was very much the blue eyed boy with the Scottish social services department and for the first time I could see why. He was the boss of 10 members of staff and the law to 15 children in his care. He had the gift of the gab and could talk most people into submission. Although I was just another member of staff to him, I was seen as the boss's wife to the staff and children. I enjoyed working at Norton for 7 years and had many happy memories of good times there.

PH blossomed; he was treated like a guru, and liked by everyone. He initiated new care plans for the children, he spoke at length to various groups in the region on childcare and people took notice and changed to his way of dealing with children. To everyone including myself he was a wonderful understanding and caring person towards all children. He not only grew in stature from his bosses he just grew, fatter and fatter.

This was the only encouragement I ever gave him, to eat as much as he wanted. I reassured him constantly that the fact he was beginning to resemble a pot-bellied pig was not noticeable to others, I lied.

After a few short months PH's Deputy left and I was offered the post. It made a great difference to me to be Deputy OIC because not only did I get a huge rise in my salary I was now working opposite shifts to him. It was during this time that I was happy in my own way.

I considered myself very lucky to be in a position of being able to watch my children grow up and not have to rely on PH for any financial support. I could do what I wanted when I was off duty and as I had my own car, when things got too much for me to deal with I would just drive to the Bungalow we had bought and hide out for a while. I often resented his ability to sway my sons in his favour. I conceded on many occasions believing his reasons that boys needed a father at this time in their lives and there would come a time they would need their mother.

I made a few friends while I worked at Norton and I was able to maintain those friendships for many years. Until the can of worms was opened which would expose PH for the evil man he truly was, then I would be linked to him and no longer accepted for myself.

We had only been at Norton a few months before my mother once more began to contacted me again. I tried to keep her at arms length for a while as she and her now," partner" were again in trouble with debt. However she by-passed me and persuaded PH to help her by giving her a job in the home. I argued with him but as my mother was one of his supporters (when it suited her) he gave her the job of cook and helped to find them a flat. This job lasted about 6 months till they found jobs in the local club as barmaid and barman. This suited my mother because she could still keep tabs on my eldest son although she showed little interest in my other two.

7 years later, Social Services decided to restructure their residential care policies. Norton and their other two children's homes were to be closed and a new, bigger home closer to the main town was to be built. This was when I discovered PH had no qualifications. The staffs at the 3 homes were told we would all have to apply for posts when the new home was ready. PH was livid, he felt he should have been given the Post of Officer in Charge but even his best friend, Assistant Director of Social Services (David McFarland) could not get it for him, though he tried. Because he felt unjustly treated by everyone in Social Services he refused to apply for a job in the new home. Instead he went to the doctors and claimed to be too ill to work. He then moved into the bungalow and for the next few weeks I took over Norton, while he lay on the settee at the bungalow resembling a beached whale.

I had applied for a post at the new home and was given a housemothers position, (I kept my salary from Norton). I, with the help of most of the staff who had all been offered positions in the new home, closed Norton and took the remaining children the 21 miles to their new home, Mansfield.

It was not only a big move for the children of Norton but also a big move for my own children. My eldest son found it particularly difficult as he was now quite a distance away from my mother and he missed her. I was quite happy to work at Mansfield but it had meant that my three children were now living in a much different kind of area and had to get used to me going out to work instead of "being" at work. PH kept up his so-called illness and never missed an opportunity to tell me how unhappy they were in their new schools.

My life was a misery during the 4 or 5 months I was working there. He became more and more aggressive and nasty towards me so when one day he announced he had been offered a Job in Doncaster as Officer in charge and there was a job for me as well. I thought I had found my way out, I told him I did not want to go.
All hell broke out over this. Then my two youngest boys told me they wanted to go with their father and they did not want us to split up. I could not afford to pay for the house on my own so again I felt trapped. The end result was my eldest son, who was in the local college, going to live with my mother. I resigned from my job and off to Doncaster we went.

It was the worst move I had made so far. Was I ever going to learn that you can not make something work if you do not have all the parts?

PH was out of his depth and I knew it. He was no longer king of his castle and complained constantly of being watched by the bosses. Is this the time I should have suspected him? If it was, I missed my opportunity. I was so depressed while we were in Doncaster I missed my son Paul and I hated the home we lived in. PH was in constant touch with his brother John in Cardiff and I knew when he did this he was unhappy. I had only met John 2 or 3 times and never liked him, as he was a lazy drunk who lived off his girlfriend. She at least worked, but shared his liking for alcohol. PH came in one day after we had been in Doncaster for about 5 months saying he had resigned and that meant I was out of work as well. I can remember feeling stunned then he announced that there were great opportunities in South Africa and he knew someone who could get us jobs. I was still trying to get my eldest son away from my mother but he said he was happy where he was. I missed him terribly but he was 16 years old and doing well in collage. And I did not know he had his reasons why he did not want to be with PH. My life could have changed then, had I known what the future had in store for me.

My other two sons were exited at the adventure and eager to go, they both hated Doncaster. So it was really decided for me that we were going to South Africa, and we were going to drive there in a Land rover. The bungalow in Scotland had been sold so there was nothing to keep us here. After all we were unemployed, PH had seen to that. Unemployed and homeless. Perhaps because I was also unhappy in Doncaster, I can't quite remember, but I allowed myself to be swept up in the excitement of going on Safari and my anger at PH receded into the background. The shops did not know what had hit them; I bought everything I thought we would need on our journey. A big Tent, a small tent, a toilet tent with a chemical toilet. I hit the supermarket with a vengeance, if it was tinned, dried, or long lasting I bought it. In my mind I visualised driving along the African plains, stopping and pitching the tents, surveying the animals while cooking the meals. I had often seen programmes on the TV of people in Africa studying the animals or whatever, their camp set amongst the trees and I thought it would be just like that, boy was I ever to be proven wrong.

PH contacted the AA and they sent him a road map of Africa from Algiers to Durban they also included a little booklet of information on towns and possible problems we might encounter on the way. What they failed to tell us was how dangerous it could be and how out of date their information was. It took nearly three months to drive through Africa and a lot of prayers. Looking back I have to believe someone was on my side, my guardian angel had a hard trip keeping us safe.

First we got lost in the Sahara desert and instead of leaving Algiers we entered it from the Niger border side this got us all arrested. The border guards could not speak any English and it took a French man, Rene to help translate for us that we were heading towards Niger we just got lost.

Although there is a tarmac road through the Sahara desert it stops half way and you then have to follow huge painted oil drums. If you miss one as we did, you can be lost forever. During the Two days we were lost it was like a game of, I SPY, looking for these drums. Rene was a wonderful man and we met up with him and his companions quite a few times during our trip. He gave us many tips that were to help us. The most important being to get rid of as much as we could from the Landrover as it was overloaded. He told us we were the source of great amusement amongst the other travellers and there were a lot of people travelling through the Sahara Desert. There were men on bikes, huge lorries with people sitting on top of them, cars, and jeeps and even a single decker bus full of youngsters most heading for Central Africa.

PH was really upset to know that people saw him as a fool so he demanded we unload everything that was not needed. It was like a car boot sale without the money, everything we threw away someone picked up. For every item I had to lose, I made sure PH lost one as well.

Ridiculous as it may sound now, I resented throwing away my fur coat and the boys were upset at some of their games and toys being chucked away. Some of my shoes, which I loved, (I had packed about 12 pairs) were thrown. Books, a giant stuffed panda, pots and pans, a Tea set, (china) cushions, clothes, rolls and rolls of cling film, tin foil on and on until there was a huge heap by the side of the road all of which disappeared in no time. The roof rack was a lot lighter but I had drawn the line at throwing away the boys BMX bikes they had not had them for very long and they would have been broken hearted. I also refused to throw my Chemical Toilet and tent away and no amount of persuasion would let me loose my camp bed. Table and chairs went soap powder and buckets went it was a sight to behold. I can smile now when I think that somewhere in Africa is a woman wearing my fur coat and high heels sitting at my table drinking tea from my china tea set using my pots etc. etc.

From, Niger to Nigeria then on to Cameroon, this was a beautiful country. The border guard even forgave me for almost running him over as he peddled like mad on a rickety old bike to get to his little hut to greet us and stamp our passports.

With each day I grew stronger as a person I was still afraid of PH physically but his ability to humiliate and belittle me and reduce me to tears of frustration grew less and less. I began to see the man he really was, just a blustering coward. I will always remember the feeling of pleasure I got every time we faced a problem on the journey and he could not cope and the only person he could turn to was me. By the time we got to Central Africa he was very ill with sickness and diarrhoea. I had considered he might have contracted Dysentery so I put him in isolation. This meant he had to stay away from us and not use or touch anything I had not checked first. He was quite ill so he had no choice he had to comply. I assured him that if he stopped eating so much and just had lots to drink he would feel better. Secretly I was concerned that if he popped his clogs I would not be able to get his big fat body onto the roof of the Landrover and I was not sure if I could just leave it by the side of the road. He was convinced that he was dying, so he insisted that I drive back to the last town that we had been in and try and find a doctor.

Now I had two choices, GO BACK, or GO ON I chose to go on. When he realised I had not turned the Landrover around he was so mad I thought he was going to kill me. Then right in the middle of his screaming and yelling he stopped and reached into the Landrover to get himself a drink.

Every morning I made up plastic containers with orange juice to last us the day and he was now reaching for one of these. However his hand caught hold of a container full of GEAR BOX OIL, but he was so busy ranting and raving at me he had not noticed. I was now smiling which was making matters worse and I watched in wonder as to when he would notice, but sadly for him the top was off and he had taken a huge gulp of the disgusting stuff before he realised. Now he was convinced I had tried to poison him by moving the containers. I just hoped this would not slow us down much more. I was already stopping every half-hour to let him run for the nearest bush. It took him weeks to get over his bad tummy I kept telling him it would have been sooner if he were not so fat.

From Central Africa where we said goodbye to Rene and his friends on to Zaire (as it was then), to be told by the police that there was no more road it had been washed away. So to plan B? We sidestepped into Rwanda where we were deported into Burundi and about to be arrested again till I told the guards that we were Missionaries on our way to Tanzania. They allowed us to stay in the country until we could get a boat, which would take us down Lake Tanzania because there were no roads drivable. So much for the AA map it was useless.
We were stuck in Burundi for three weeks, as the boat was sick? According to the man at the dock. It had broken down and they were waiting for parts.

Alan and John were oblivious to all the drama that was happening, each place we stopped was an adventure to them and the people in general were very kind. They played football with the children and were chased by the biggest chickens I have ever seen, much to the amusement of the locals.

Finally the Landrover was hoisted onto the boat, which was very small and full to bursting with the locals who with their possessions were getting dropped off at different points along the way. We travelled all the way to Zambia where we were again hoisted off the boat. Next stop Zimbabwe the only country I was to feel fear. As we were driving along a dark road three white men with rifles who demanded to know, who and where we were going stopped us. PH nearly had a heart attack, he stuttered and stammered and they were getting really annoyed with him. I got out of the Landrover to explain to them, only to be told to get back in. As I turned to do as I was told I saw four or five black men kneeling on the ground by the side of the road facing down, I asked the man who was holding the door for me what was going on and was stunned by his reply. "We are sponsored by Blue Peter to protect the Rhino's and these men are poachers so on your way now." We went, as fast as we could. I could not believe it, here we were in the middle of the jungle and whom did we meet? Blue Peter workers, that programme has never been the same for me since.

I got us out of the sand when we were stuck. I chased away the pigmies that surrounded us. I found a way to continue when the road was washed away. I kept us fed by dealing with the natives of the countries we were in, me I did it all. And I felt PH had to accept that this was his downfall because he knew I could see him for what he really was a bully, to me his 5 foot 1 inch wife, but a coward to strangers. By the time we arrived in Durban he was a total wreck and all he wanted to do was contact his big brother. I stood my ground I had come this far and used up so much money we needed to get work. I finally got to meet this great friend of his, Jerry. A nice man, with a nice family but no great friend of PH just someone he had met in Doncaster who had told him he was emigrating to South Africa. PH had told him we had been thinking about going there as well. So this nice man had given PH his address and said if you are ever come to this area visit me. I could not believe he had fooled me again.

It took a further month in Durban to find work and get permits but true to form PH presented himself so well to the social services department that they offered him and myself work in a children's home in Petermaritsburg as house parents. PH excelled himself there and 7 months later he had talked himself into a much sought after position as Principal of St Martins Children's Home in Durban and was duly inaugurated by the Bishop of Durban in the chapel at the home.
I did not work in St. Martins home I was just brought out when visitors called. I judged baby competitions, arranged the flowers in the chapel etc. This went on for about 18 months till PH announced he was homesick.

Again he was in constant touch with his brother and also David McFarland (Assistant Director of social services in Scotland). He told me he had seen a doctor who had advised him to go home as he was becoming severely depressed.
This statement from him was the final nail in the coffin for me and I told him that as soon as we got back to Britain it was my intention to get a divorce.

I did not find it easy to get away from PH when we returned to Wales he had all the money and the boys still appeared to love him so we struck up a bargain. I had over the years accused him of many things from being a womaniser in the beginning, to pervert, to being a queer. We had said so many nasty things to each other I agreed if he stopped being cruel and violent towards me and just left me to get on with my life, I would do the same with him. He could live his life and I could live mine. For the first time since I met him he apologised to me and admitted he had over the years been a bastard towards me but he said he just could not help himself. As if this was supposed to make everything OK.

He got a job as debt collector and I went back into nursing. I found a house, which I liked, and which I knew I could convert into a small residential home to care for the elderly a job I enjoyed very much. I could not afford to buy the house on my own so I asked PH if he would help me buy it. I told him what I wanted to do and that I could earn enough that it would not cost him a penny, and that he would get all his meals and washing done and any money he made he could keep, he readily agreed to help me.

He had always been a lazy man physically and I suppose the thought of doing nothing to get free board and lodge was too irresistible. I ran my small home for 10 years firstly with 3 elderly residents to whom I grew very attached. When after about a year one died I was so upset I was reluctant to take another although I was bombarded by Social Workers begging me to take their clients? When I kept on refusing I was approached by Social Services and asked if I would consider accepting People with learning difficulties. I had no experience but they promised to help me. So for 8 of the 10 years I cared for 3 people with severe learning difficulties with very little help from Social Services. Social workers for my residents kept changing and they would forget to tell me. Case workers for them kept changing, social workers would be, on sick leave, or on a course, or on annual leave there was always something, so much so that I learned to cope on my own only contacting social services when it was absolutely necessary.

As soon as I got back from South Africa my eldest son began to contact his brothers and me but he was not too keen to have much contact with PH. I did not care I was just glad he was all right. My mother was still living in Scotland and I got a phone call from her 'partner' to tell me she had cancer and he could not cope with her. I drove up to Scotland and brought her back here and nursed her for nearly two months. She was surprised at the work I was doing but found it difficult to deal with my residents. I desperately wanted to make peace between us and tried a number of times to get to get through to her and tell her how there were times I missed her over the years. She was so very ill and I wanted to believe I could help her, and I wanted her to know that I loved her. But it was too late for that; she did not know me, the person. I could tell she was afraid because she knew she was dying, but she made it very hard to get close enough to her to be of help.

As time went on and I was able to get her medication sorted out so that she was no longer in pain, she began asking when she could go home. I could not tell her that her 'partner' did not want her back, he had told me several times he could not cope with illness and asked me to keep her with me. While she was staying with me she could sense the atmosphere between PH and me and probably because she knew she was dying she told me she had never liked him.
To me that was so sad because when I had needed her all those years ago she refused to help me, now it was too late.

While she was here she asked me to take her to see my two cousins who were still living in Wales and to visit her sister's grave. She had died some years earlier and I had long lost contact with the family. I enjoyed meeting Rita and Joyce again and from then on we kept in close touch.

Finally I could not prevent her from wanting to go back to her own house and I did what I thought was the best for her at the time. I contacted her 'partner' and told him she was coming back. He was angry, but could do nothing as I told him it was what she wanted that mattered not how he felt. I warned him that she had a fear of hospitals and when the time came she could no longer manage herself he was to tell me and I would return and bring her back. He did phone me, three days later and told me she was in hospital and did not have much time left. She died the next morning before I could get there. When I went to her funeral, which her partner had arranged, I was confronted with aunts and uncles etc., most of them I had not seen for years. I had no desire to rekindle old memories and left as soon as the service was over.

About two months later I received a bill from the funeral home asking me for £1.500 to cover the cost of the burial. I found out later my mother's 'partner' had pocketed her life insurance money and gave my address as her next of kin. I received another bill from a hotel in the town for a funeral breakfast he had arranged and I knew nothing about it. I paid them both.

My eldest son who was broken-hearted over his nanas death, came for a holiday and brought his girlfriend who he later married. They met while he was living in Scotland and that is where they made their home.

I had noticed the relationship between my sons and PH had changed. Secretly I was very pleased, as children they had followed PH everywhere and what he said was law and I was just the mother. Now as young men they spent more time talking to me and I enjoyed the attention from them I had always wanted. My eldest son made me a Grandma to a lovely little boy; I was over the moon. My middle son became engaged to a lovely girl and my youngest was still growing up.

PH was about here and there pretending to be the perfect host when visitors called etc. My middle son got married and my eldest son made me a Grandma again this time to two beautiful twin girls. Life was just plodding along and my youngest son got engaged. PH spent more and more time out than in and I did not care. I was getting to know my sons as young men and watching their lives evolve and they were getting to know me as a person.

In November 1994 I got a phone call from my cousin Rita to ask me to go with her to see her younger sister Joyce who was in the hospital and she did not know what was wrong with her. I had been very busy and had not spoken to Joyce for a few weeks so I was stunned to hear she was in hospital. I picked Rita up and we went to see her.

As soon as we saw her lying in that hospital bed we both realised that whatever it was that was wrong with her was serious. We were soon to find out she had cancer of the womb. She was only 32 and had two lovely little boys and a husband who was scared. As I was the one who had a car I spent the next few weeks transporting Joyce who was so frail from her hysterectomy to and from hospitals for her chemotherapy treatment.

Christmas came and went and she tried so hard to hide how ill she was but Joyce was just fading away. I found this very hard to deal with as she and I had a special relationship I was her pal, and I could not help her. PH was behaving like a spoilt brat at this time; he would not help me with my residents by staying at home so I could see more of Joyce. Rita was as devastated, but we could not talk about it to each other because it was so frightening to know that this lovely person would not be with us for very long. Neither of us wanted to think about what was going to happen to her boys if her husband did not pull himself together.

Then the bomb dropped in January 1995. The phone call from Paul my eldest son that shattered all our lives and they have never been the same since. ###

I think I went into shock I remember him saying, "They are on their way home". When my sons arrived home they both told me that they had as young children been abused by PH. They were both in shock and none of us knew what we were going to do next. They went back to work and I waited for PH to come in. I confronted him and knew by the look on his face I had just confirmed his worst nightmare he had been caught. He never denied it but would not admit it either. I can remember being really calm and went into the kitchen and picked up the biggest knife I saw and told him if he was not out of the door by the time I got to him I was going to kill him. It kept going round and round in my mind that he was not all the things I believed him to be. It was worse, he was MY worst nightmare and he had hurt my children.

As he walked out he said, " I'll talk to you later when you are more sensible." I was numb and wandered around in a daze for the rest of the day. How could I have let this happen? Why had I not protected my own children? When had this all happened? Where was I at the time? I knew he was not a normal man so why had I not noticed anything? I felt sick to my stomach and I was so angry not just at PH but at my own sons because they had not told me. I was so full of my own misery at the time all I could think of was myself; I did not consider my own son's emotions, not till much later.

My sons would not discuss anything about PH with me and I did not take the time to understand why not. I wanted answers, I wanted revenge and for the next few days I behaved like a caged animal pacing the floor. Joyce phoned me to ask for a lift to the hospital and I nearly refused her but I could not let her down she only had me. I was going to tell her about PH but when I saw how ill she was I could not bring myself to cause her any more upset so I pretended as I always did that all was well.

I started divorce proceedings but could not believe my solicitor who said the court would not accept my word that PH was a Paedophile because he had not been arrested or been to court yet. I had to divorce him on the grounds of irretrievable breakdown of the marriage. Apart from a few phone calls from PH to try to talk to me I had not seen him, I had usually screamed at him and hung the phone up. However as soon as he received the divorce papers the threats began and this was to go on for the next year.

Joyce died in March 1995 and her husband asked me to be with him and her boys when her life support machine was switched off. This was one of the saddest days in my life she was so young.

Still, we waited for the Police to show up at the door. I had tried to get information from the Scottish police but they would only say they were making inquiries. We all went on with our lives pretending we were all right. The boys went to work and I carried on looking after my 3 residents. PH continued to harass us all by phone or following us in a car he had borrowed from his brother. I was stopped in the street and told 2 men I had never seen before called me a bitch. PH had told them, that I had forced my sons to tell the police they had been abused so that I could get the house and I was trying to get him put in prison.

These idiot bullies warned me to be careful as they would be watching me and it was only because PH had asked them not to do anything they were leaving me alone, for now. I was terrified but said nothing to anyone especially my sons.

May, bank holiday weekend 2 police officers a man and a woman knocked my door. This was the start of living hell for us all, for the next 10 months until PH came to trial in Glasgow Crown court. The Police arrested PH (he was living in Cardiff) they took him back to Scotland and charged him with 46 offences of sexual and physical abuse of 19 children including my own three sons. Then began the long drawn out legal process. He was allowed out on bail and allowed back to live in Cardiff until his case came to court.

I could not believe the police would allow this man his freedom. I was so angry because I knew how scared PH would be and I was so afraid he would try and hurt my sons to stop them testifying against him. My solicitor could not help me he could only deal with my divorce proceedings. The Scottish police could not help either unless I could prove PH was breaking his bail conditions and I could not.

It will never fail to amaze me how the human mind copes with overwhelming emotions. I went about my daily life, cooking, cleaning even smiling on occasion each upset I dealt with as if it was just another episode in the great book of life. I could see myself from the outside looking in; I was in autopilot. I was watching and dealing with each thing as it came along.

Fear is a terrible emotion, put alongside anger and hatred and it can be potentially explosive. Then give all these emotions a direction and no control and they can be lethal. I know, because I felt them all and had it not been for an act of god that I could not find PH the night that I saw myself crack open, I know that I would have killed him and felt no remorse for my actions. (This feeling never goes away I still feel it on occasion).

PH continued to protest his innocence to anyone who would listen and all the time he was on bail he continued to tell anyone who would listen the same story, that I had asked my sons make false statements against him because I wanted to get the house. A lot of people believed him and I was perceived by many as a conniving, evil woman who was badly treating this gentle giant of a man who was seen by almost all who knew him as a kind caring person. He had a lot of people he knew in and around Cardiff and quite a few of them made it their business to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible. For months my phone would ring at all hours of the day and night and no one would speak.

I refused to change my telephone number to show PH I was not afraid of him. I
Knew exactly what he was doing and I could not let him win.

He sent his friends to the house to try and frighten me Roberto and Richard
were two in particular, and as long as I live I will not forget these
two individuals and the fear they tried to install in me by their threats.

PH had to report to Cardiff Central police Station every morning as part of
his bail conditions and most evenings he was out on the town with his mates
who were trying to help him "cope."? What some of his mates did not know was,
he was in contact with his brother who's partner Sheila had bought an old
house in Portugal with her redundancy money and it was his intention to jump
his bail and move over there to live with them. Although they both knew he
was guilty of the charges against him, he had told them he would force me to
pay him at least £26,000. Money is a great incentive to greedy people and
John and Sheila were certainly known for their greed.

It cost me a great deal to fight PH in the divorce proceedings and I was
determined he was getting nothing from me. Over the years he had done nothing
to help me, he was a lazy fat pig of a man who did as little as possible. Every
time he tried to get me to give him money I fought him and won in the court.

This caused him a great deal of frustration and fuelled his anger, as he needed
the money he thought he would get from me to enable him to run away from the
police before his case went to court. The Scottish police had told me that his
case would be heard early in the New Year (1996).

When the South Wales police knocked my door in October 1995 and asked me if I could identify some pictures they had, I was again shocked I did not know what was coming at me now. They would not tell me anything they just spread out some pictures on my kitchen table and asked me if I knew anyone in them. Well, there he was, large as life; even with his head down I could tell it was PH.

I was then told by the police that the pictures were taken in different building societies and banks around the country and PH had been caught with about 6 others committing acts of fraud. I knew he was desperate for money because he knew I could prove without a shadow of doubt that he was not in any way entitled to any from me, and he knew his time was running out.

I contacted the Scottish police and told them what was going on and they contacted the South Wales police who arrested PH and the rest of the gang. As the Scottish police had arrested him first they had priority and all the South Wales police could do was charge PH with fraud and let him go. I was gobsmacked, I felt as if the police were playing games. I got him first so you will have to wait. PH then told the rest of the gang, ' the reason they were all caught was because I had hired a private detective who had followed them all and reported them to the police'. Now I had a group of men who had all been caught committing fraud and were facing prison sentences and they were all convinced I had caused it. Yet I had no idea "who" any of them were nor what they looked like.

As I have said before the human mind is an amazing piece of blubber, as if I did not have enough to deal with now I had the fraud squad. The whole thing would have been funny had it not been so sad and soul destroying for all involved. I was now afraid to answer the door or the phone. To say things were beginning to get complicated was an understatement total confusion would describe this time better. There were times I was not sure which police force or solicitor I was talking to and about which case.

Christmas was coming up fast and my three residents were all getting excited and I was trying to get myself organised, as they would be home for three weeks, full time. I was praying that everything would be as normal as usual for them and that there would be no dramatics from PH. He had always hated Christmas and every year he had caused some kind of situation, an argument or something and created a horrible atmosphere.

And every year I had pretended there was nothing wrong and tried to make everybody feel as comfortable as I could but I wanted this year to pass as fast as possible. I had not really noticed that my youngest son's girlfriend had all but moved into my home. He had felt it was his responsibility to "look after the mother" and I did not really mind they both tried to be as helpful as they could. She is a lovely girl, (now his wife) we would often talk together and she helped me a lot just being here.

As I had expected, PH tried all over the Christmas holidays to cause trouble. The phone would ring night and day and no one would speak. He would drive past the house slowly or park his car on the hill behind the house so I would know he was around. I was terrified but could not show it; too many people were depending on me to be strong. The local police were very good; they knew PH and what was going on so when they saw him they would tell him to move on. And they were very kind towards us as a family, often checking that we were all right or just making a point of passing the time of day with us.

The trial was in March 1996. I find it hard to describe the emotions we were all going through. We all knew we had to go to the court and that we all had to stand in the witness box. We all knew this was the process and there was no way out of it but all of my sons were afraid, as I was, but we were afraid for different reasons. As the date grew closer I began to feel as if I was falling apart. My emotions were in turmoil and I needed help so I plucked up the courage to go and tell my doctor.

As I told her all that had happened I just fell apart, the tears would not stop. She did the kindest thing; she put her arm around me and just listened. Then she advised me to get more professional help. She referred me to a psychiatrist; he was marvellous he just listened as I prattled on and on. He then prescribed diazepam to help me get through the day and nitrazepam to help me sleep. Nights were the worst time for me; the constant nightmares left me feeling drained. I would wake each morning more tired than when I had gone to bed, now at least with the help of the little pills I could get to sleep, although the nightmares continue to this day.

None of us said anything to each other. It was like being in a dream, we just followed the events as they unfolded. We arrived at court the 7 of us to be greeted by a line of police officers right across the entrance of the court. One of my Daughters in law grabbed me as we walked into the court building telling me PH was behind us. As I turned to look a police officer approached us saying, "don't worry about him he, is going nowhere." He then told us where to go. I collected up everyone like a mother hen; arms outstretched ushering them all ahead of me so I knew where they were. I turned and stared directly at PH who was in a glass box just inside the court building, a police officer standing by the door of it. He showed no emotion, he sat there with his arms crossed and stared right back at me. Silly things go through your mind when you are under stress. I remember thinking 'He's no snow white' why put him in a glass box? Then looking at the line of policemen and smiling because they were far too tall to be dwarfs.

The case was due to begin in less than an hour and the prosecution came to tell us that it might be adjourned as PH was making a fuss, claiming the barrister who had been appointed to represent him was not qualified enough. We waited for a further three hours and the prosecution came and told us we were to come back the next day as PH had won his argument that he was entitled to a more senior barrister. We were all stunned, we had to wait another day and even then we were not sure if the case would still go ahead. I was so angry I was convinced the police had messed up and he was going to get away with everything.
I rushed from the room we were in only to find PH had gone. The police told me that he had arrived at court on his own and left on his own.

The following morning we again all trooped in and there he was in his glass box. This time I was the one who was ushered into the witness room by everyone. The Scottish police were prepared they knew PH was relying on people being too afraid or embarrassed to show up at court so they called 9 other witnesses who all came along with their wives or partners and all of them had to walk past PH in his Glass box.

Faced with the fact that he knew he was guilty and now with the witnesses who could prove it PH had to admit for the first time that he was a paedophile. He was given the 46 charges against him and he selected the 19 charges he would admit to, this was one charge for each boy.

As I sat there in that room looking at the faces of, now young men each of them obviously uncomfortable and scared, my anger at PH intensified. These were boys who had trusted him, boys who had been forced to be here just because he was a pervert. I did not know what to say to any of them. How could I tell them I was sorry? My mind kept flashing back to them as children; none of them had ever done anything wrong. I had photographs of all of them and memories of good times with them, now everything was tainted. Stephen one of the boys was crying and telling me how sorry he was for putting me through this and my heart was breaking for him and the others. I just wanted to put my arms around them all and I could not move. We were all in an unreal situation, what should have been an exciting memory recollection was destroyed by what had happened to them. No one talked about the past. Instead I was introduced to his or her wives or partners and told what they were doing now and how many children they had or what job they had, we were all afraid of what was to come.

As my son's had grown up with all of them they all chatted together. My head was thumping, I could feel my pulse racing and I just wanted to scream but I did nothing.

When the prosecution came into the room and told us all what they were going to accept his plea bargain, I was livid, I lost my temper and demanded to know why they were allowing him to get away with the other charges. I was so angry that it took not only my own sons but also some of the other boys to calm me down. They were all concerned that I was upset and this was making me feel worse. I felt that I had let them all down and now I had to make sure PH was punished and to me it felt like was getting away with all that he had done. I had not been told by anyone what the exact charges against him were but my solicitor had obtained a copy of what was known as The Diet of the trial. I had read everything, now he was going to let off with more than half the charges. No one knew I was aware of all the horrendous things he had done not even the prosecution, so they could not understand my almost hysteria.

Up until the moment PH admitted his guilt it had been a closed court now it was a free for all. I wanted to be in the court when he had to say the words I AM GUILTY, but all of the boys were concerned that I would know who they were describing even though they had been told their names would not be mentioned. I was asked by all of them not to be in the courtroom as the charges were read out. I agreed reluctantly, even though I already knew everything, on condition someone came and got me when everything concerning them had been read out so I could see PH admit to his guilt. I waited and waited and although the police officer on the door assured me he was not there to keep me in he would not let me out.

When eventually they all came back I was told he had been remanded in custody to be brought back for sentencing in 5 weeks. I had not thought of the impact of facing PH in the dock would have on all of them. Everyone's emotions were confused all we wanted to do was get away but saying goodbye to each other was so difficult, we exchanged Addresses and Phone numbers knowing, we would probably never contact each other again.

John and his girlfriend left the court to come straight home to Wales he was so upset. My little family Paul, Alan and the rest of us decided to stay overnight in a hotel and drive home the next day. The police told us all to leave by the back door as the press and TV cameras were all at the front of the court. He was on the TV news that evening and on the front page of the papers the next morning alongside "Fergie".

I watched him on the television news being taken out of the court escorted by two policemen and saw how he tried to hide his face but with the two officers holding him up he could not. I felt such intense hatred at him for the fact that he had managed to get away with so much. The police were quite happy with the guilty plea but I was choking with anger.

The following morning with a heavy heart we (Alan his wife and myself) left Paul's house saying our goodbyes. I looked at my three grandchildren, so innocent but wondered for how long? How long would it take before they found out what my marriage to PH had done to their father? The long drive back was a strain on us, although we kept up a pretence trying to make conversation it was difficult we were all emotionally drained. When I arrived back home it was to find the local TV and newspaper had been waiting outside my door the day before but they had been sent away by my neighbours. Within a couple of day's, mindless vandals had spray painted the front of my house with vile words. It was early in the morning we discovered it and I was so grateful John and Din were here, they both helped me scrub the walls and fence before they went to work. My car had also been targeted, the aerial snapped off and the paintwork scratched. To this day I have no proof who was responsible nor do I care. I just wish they had the courage to face me.

PH's brother John was particularly nasty about him being held in custody and did not like it when I accused him of being involved in the fraud case. His girlfriend Sheila had been one of PH's biggest supporters and she had recently died, (I could not feel any kind of sorrow when I was told of her death) and although John was claiming to be grief-stricken. I knew better, what was worrying him more than anything was where would his next drink come from as they had never married and she had a large family who all disliked him. However it was to his advantage because he was able to move into PH's flat in Cardiff as he had no where else to go. From here John Harvey decided to launch his campaign of hate towards my sons and me. I understand now why he felt the need to punish us, because to do nothing got him nothing from PH and John Harvey was very short of money so he used us to get into his brothers favour. I was sure PH had hid the money he had made from the fraud that he had been arrested for, and his big brother wanted a share.

PH was brought back to the Court in Edinburgh and sentenced to 15 years with a recommendation from the Judge that he serve the full time. I know he must have been in a state of shock as I had been told by one of his former friends that he had confided in him that his solicitor had told him he would probably get 3 years in an open prison. This is probably the reason he pleaded guilty knowing the court usually gives a lesser sentence if the offender spares his victims the trauma of having to give evidence, he was wrong. PH had also said that it would probably do him some good as he would use this time to get himself some computer qualifications ready for when he came out.

I took great delight in telling everyone who had chosen to believe PH was an innocent man that in fact he had pleaded guilty to 19 charges and was guilty of 46 but had plea bargained with the police. These statements made some of his believers very uncomfortable and made a lot of enemies for myself but I did not care I wanted everyone to know.

I find it very hard to describe my feelings on being told he would be locked away for 15 years. I could not at first accept it was over and I was free of him. I still expected to see him parked on the hill behind the house and sometimes when the phone rang I would jump. There was also an overwhelming feeling of sadness between us all, which we found difficult to put into words, so we just kept very quiet.

My divorce case was still going on and even though PH was locked up he continued to demand he be entitled to at least £26,000. The fraud squad continued to interview me as to whether I recognised any of the other men involved. In fact apart from the fact that PH was somewhere in the Scottish prison system, life continued as it had for the past year. I waited for my divorce to become final and various solicitors or police officers continued to make their inquiries about PH's activities. Sadly for PH another one of his great supporters died during this time David Wilmot, he was found dead in his sleep. This may sound wicked but I was so elated when I was stopped in the street and told of his death. All I could say was, "well God has a funny way of sorting out the good from the bad, he just takes his time and he picked a good time for this one."

I carried on as best as I could for the next eleven months then according to Social Services they had received a letter from an anonymous person who claimed I was an unfit carer. I believe to this day if there was a letter, then John Harvey wrote it. I had told Social Services all about PH and the outcome right from the beginning. I had hid nothing from them and felt they of all people would be supportive, how wrong I was. It had taken them almost a year but as soon as they had found alternative accommodation for my residents they moved them. They were very sly in the way they did this, taking them from the day centre and claiming they had asked to be moved when questioned about this anonymous letter. These I know were an absolute lie, as none of my residents were capable of any kind of conversation. Their behaviour was as such, I have since been told it took Social Services nearly a year to find them places in staffed houses as they could not find private residential care for them.

I was devastated I had cared for Kay and Malcolm, (Arthur had passed away the year before) for nearly 8 years and they in their own way helped me to cope with all that had been happening. Although there were times I had felt like I could not face another day, I knew I had to as they were relying on me. None of them had any family apart from Malcolm who had an aunt and Social Services did not seem to care about them. No one from Social Services had even attended Arthur's funeral, I had not seen or heard from a social worker for months. I had arranged it all, as his Social Worker was on a course at the time and there was no record of Arthur having any family. Kay and Malcolm were not just social services clients to me; they were part of my life.

I know I had been told by social workers I must not get emotionally involved in the beginning, but as the years had gone on I stopped thinking of them as clients they were just, Kay, Malcolm and Arthur and this was their home. Would "Staff " understand Malcolm's aggressive behaviour was not personal, he could not help it? Would they realise his swearing was part of his frustration at his inability to explain himself?

How would Kay deal with the loss of her own bedroom that had taken her years to get just right? Her room that no one was allowed into without her permission? Would "Staff " allow her to wreck her things and leave her alone to sort them all out when she was ready? I was not even told where they were. An overwhelming sense of sadness can best describe how I felt.

I did not just loose an income, I lost a reason to get up in the morning, I lost the feeling that I was doing something good for someone who needed my care and I lost two special people who had been part of my life for a long time.

Now I was unemployed and panic was about to set in when I was stopped in the street by a neighbour and asked if I had heard about the death of John Harvey. I remember very clearly thinking of the Queen song, ' Another one bites the dust ' and saying, "no but I do hope you are right." She was, John Harvey's evil heart had stopped; now he could no longer hurt any of us, and that left PH alone, apart from his partners in crime whoever they are. As I sat alone that evening I could not help but wonder if my friend Gill had been right when she had told me, " you will get through this, God never gives you so much to bare that you can't cope if you believe and the truth is on your side." I knew the truth was with me but I was not too sure about god.

April 1st. 1996, (all fools day) my divorce had finished but I had to give PH £1.500 in settlement and I was broke. But life threw me a curve ball; my son Alan and his wife had a beautiful little girl now I was a Grandma to four. This gave me the strength to continue to function so; I sold my car and paid PH's solicitor. I would rather have walked on hot coals but I just wanted an end to it all. How stupid or thick I was, to believe those old saying's, " Time is a great healer," " Everything has a beginning and an end," whoever said them never lived in the real world. You never forget, you just learn to hide your feelings better. If I had known what life still had in storage for me I think I would have taken all my little pills and gone to sleep permanently.

My youngest son John and Din were still living with me and they tried to help me out financially until they found a home of their own. I know it held them back from buying their house as they felt they had to look after me so I pretended I was grateful for the peace and quiet I was going to get when they moved. They did not move far and continued to visit almost daily, just checking the mother was ok. All of my sons or my daughter's in law would phone or visit often, just to chat! I must admit I loved all the attention. My life plodded on for the next year each day much like the same. I was struggling to keep my head above water financially and was considering selling my house (I had fought so hard to keep) each of my sons had offered to have me live with them but they had their own nests now and I needed my own.

It was easy to keep up the pretence that I was doing fine and laugh and joke with each of them at a distance but I was not so sure I could have kept it up full time. I needed to be able to close my front door and in the privacy of my own home be able to cry if I felt like it.

Being forced to face the past in public has left my three sons changed in different ways. Paul is angry and cannot forget he lives each day full of hate for PH. Alan refuses to discuss his past with anyone not even his brothers. If the subject comes up, he avoids it and walk's away. He cannot deal with his past so he switches it off. John has to live with the knowledge that it was his father who destroyed all their lives, so he tries his best to keep us all together as a family, this has become very important to him. Even though they never say anything to me I know in my heart they are suffering because just like me they have lost their past. None of us can ever look back on our lives and say, " remember so and so" without the image of PH in the background so we try not to talk about it.

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