BEGINNINGS

 She is special. He knows it from the first moment of their meeting … special because he knows her need, the emptiness he can fill. As she enters his class, he begins grooming her for what is to come.

     She’s a good girl, used to obedience and rules.

     An empty desk in front of his own, his eyes watch her fumble for the right books, pressing his lips together, nodding approval. He sits beside her, placing a guiding hand over hers, gliding it slowly down her knee. It remains there … skin on bare skin. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t do this. But she's sitting at the front of a class. How can she do anything without it causing a scene?

     As if she's passed the first test, he offers a reassuring pat and moves away. Moments later he stands behind, hands hovering across her shoulders, protective, possessive even, parenting the child.

     ‘Any time you want to use this room, that’s fine. You have my permission. Lock the door behind you to ensure privacy. Break times and lunch you can come here and practice. No-one will interfere. And I hear you’re not taking part in PE, swimming or Games … would you like me to put a word, allow you to use the room during those times too?’

     He wasn’t so much asking as clarifying the way it would be. In turn, she learns what pleases him, earns words of praise, depending on his approval as an addict does a fix.

     Sixteen days after her first day at the school he talks with her parents:

     ‘I’d like to offer your daughter private music lessons at my home ...’

     No choice. No discussion. A faite accompli

     It’s a trap … a trap which snaps shut … becomes everyday routine.

     Up the hill, crossing the road at the corner, walking to the gate, the couple of steps up to the green enamelled front door with the polished knocker. Why does it have to be green? What’s that about? Why the gnawing dread in the pit of her stomach kicking in? She doesn't remember, and it settles like a hard lump of iron, putting her on edge. It is the kind of area that feels safe. Detached houses. Suburbia at its best. Yet behind the door of number 6 is a secret no-one knows or could even imagine.

     ‘Come in. You know the way ...’

She gazes at the little girl clutching her mother’s skirts … his daughter, his wife … and she wonders … Usually there is silence. Sometimes a piano plays. Finally, a young girl with plaits slides out, a shadow joining the night. They catch one another’s eye as she turns at the front door to gaze with a tear stained face behind her.

     A hand beckons. His figure stands in the doorway. Hands hover around my shoulders, holding, pressing her to him, slowly drawing off her coat. Hot breath on her neck. Hands fondle, stroking hair. An urgency, a need emanates from him. His tweed jacket tickles her nose as he pushes her face into it just after she sees familiar beads of sweat break out above his upper lip. She's seen them before, in the classroom, not knowing what it means. But always, fondling, handling, touching follows after.

     The cushioned seat in front of the piano is long enough to sit three or four bottoms never mind one. Or is that the idea? She plays practised pieces. Scales follow. He sits beside her, strokes an arm, pats a knee, guiding fingers across the keys. Then abruptly, he stands, moving behind to massage shoulders, moulding, making her his own.

     A knock at the door. His wife and little girl, hands clutching mother’s skirts. No word spoken. A tray pushes onto the low coffee table in front of the sofa … and she is gone.
     Fingers trace flower shapes on the sofa, just as a child she traced tiles in the bathroom in the house on the hill not knowing if they were going to hospital or school. He is sitting watching … unnerving. He reaches for a hand. Nervously, she goes for the teapot, begins to pour. It’s surreal. A Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. When tea fills small china cups, too hot to drink, again, he takes a hand, holding it, pushing it across his lap to unzip his trousers.

     He pushes her head roughly into his tweed jacket, smothering, choking, sickening, so she cannot see where he guides her hand ... please God, let me go. Please God, let me die ... But God isn’t ready to take her just yet.

     Only once did she ever jerk free:

     “Can’t we just do the scales? Can’t I just play this piece … and go home?”

The plaintive pleas of a frightened child release into the silence. He lets her go. With a deep frown creasing his forehead, he opens the door to her cage, setting her free to go home.

     Next day at school his door is locked. School bullies do their worst. She sits in lesson time in the toilet, taking off tights, throwing them over the rail, standing on a stool, tying one leg around her throat ... so deeply traumatised and unhappy, so unhinged by everything that happens she still can't quite grasp or understand.
 

     For three years I endured in silence the music teacher’s humiliating games both at home and at school.

(Extract from my book BETRAYED, published by FeedARead.com, 2012)



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