Page 22 - Consider The Lillies of the Field - My Story: Jill Kemp

friends over and one of us was always played against the other. I
really did want to be good. I wasn't a rebellious child, but only one of us at
a time was ever in Mum's “good books” as we called it. If you were in the
“good books,” as a special treat you might be allowed to read a children's
Sunny Stories paperback. (Someone had given them to Mum for us girls
but we were only allowed to look at them very rarely.) My sister told me

that she used to memorize the words, even the “Printed in Great
Britain,” so that when she was in isolation she could bring them to mind.
We used to get each other into trouble to get into the “good books.” My
sister had to feel my mattress each morning to check if I had wet it and
I would beg her not to “tell” so I wouldn't get in the “bad books.” It
wasn't until recent years that we realized even as adults we were being
played against each other and now we have be-come very close. Sad,
isn't it? So here we were all those years.

As is usual in cases of
child abuse, the children
become isolated from
their extended family.
Mum never encouraged
Grandma or Aunty to visit
because she “didn't
want any interference”

bringing us up. I only remember them visiting us once and after we
had come upstairs, stood to attention and parroted in a robotic way,
“Hullo,” but we had to stay in our rooms dur-ing the visit. Everyone
else had cake and afternoon tea. Grandma tried to give us some
pocket money as she left, but Mum threw it down the path after her and
refused to let us have it. Grandma was so upset she never visited again.
On the few occasions we were at a family gathering at her place, us two
girls had to stay outside. Our cousins sneaked cake out to

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