I was asked about if I ever liked my main abuser, my step father Stanley.
The simple answer is yes, and I admired his intelligence. He was brilliant at English and his spelling was perfect. I was so bad in both of these subjects and he would use this opportunity to embarrass me whenever he could.
The strange thing was that most of the people in my life knew of mother’s situation and about her being beaten. I quickly became disliked by all her friends and of course Stanley’s friends.
They forgot that I was only a child, but I knew it was my fault for arriving, for being there, yet it was not my original sin, it was my Mothers.
In the later years I began to understand Stanley and that this brilliant man, (As I thought) was also stupid.
My father, John Logie Baird had given my mother a house, so he could live in one of the better areas of London and never had a Mortgage, the very thing we the average person has to live with.
One morning I even bonded with Stanley, it was short but it did happen.
On my return from the Orphanage I was treated as a servant, and made to feel unwanted.
My duties were to look after my little half-sister Liz, who was seven years younger than me.
Both my older half-brother Bernard and my half-sister Liz always got better gifts than me. Every birthday they had I used to enjoy their presents as I knew that on my Birthday there would understandably be very little or nothing.
Whenever I questioned the fact I was told, “Bernard is the eldest and Elizabeth is a girl, it is important that they get good things as Bernard will be leaving school soon,” then she would always add a thing I hate to hear even today,
“Don’t be greedy,” I have never been greedy, I would much rather give, I am not greedy!!
Sometimes there was not even a card as I guess mother was frightened she would be beaten if she bought one for me. She would say,
“I don’t have the money as just to feed you costs so much,” yet sometimes I was so hungry I ate dog biscuits.
This particular morning was Lizes Birthday and I went around the house to find her and see what she had got in the way of presents.
I was always kept busy as my siblings had their Birthdays in case I wanted the things that they had like presents, cards and a cake.
As soon as I was freed from my chores I did manage to find her in bed with Stanley. He was telling her a story with his arm around her and her presents were all on the bed, just out of reach from me.
I decided to wait for my companion Liz and sat on the floor behind the bedroom door, also listing to Stanley’s story.
My foot must have moved into his sight as suddenly he spotted me,
“Gordon” he shouted terrifying me as I knew I should not be there.
“Gordon you can also sit on the bed if you want”.
Stunned I remember uneasily sitting on the edge of the bed until the story finished, when he asked me to get him more tea which allowed me to escape.
For that instant in time he must have felt something other than hate for the small boy behind the door.
Much later I realized that I liked Stanley, wondering why, I searched my soul and suddenly understood that he was the only one that paid me attention!
Another strange thing is that if anybody shows me the slightest love or attention I attach myself to them with vigor.
Luckily I am not the sort of person that is liked.
I think that some hidden asset makes us loved by everyone or ignored by everyone.
Had my mother never become pregnant with me both her and Stanley’s lives would have been so much better. My half siblings would have been better off as they would not have had to listen to their mothers screams as she was hit.
Like all abused children I know it was my own fault, the hard thing is learning to live with it.
Many like me have found violence from a young age, perhaps some will find love.
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