Stolen Voices: A sadistic step-father. Two children violated. Their battle for justice.

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Soon we were lost in laughter and patting seats, when Mum leaned over from behind.

‘Pack it in, you two,’ she hissed menacingly. ‘Just sit quietly.’

‘Yes Muuuum,’ we chimed in unison, grinning cheekily.

I turned to look at Terrie. She was doing her best not to look at me. I knew all I had to do was catch her eye and she’d start laughing again.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, to escape the waves of nausea. I could feel the bile rising just 20 minutes after we set off.

‘Oh, not again, Paul,’ Mum said as I turned green.

She stood up, wobbling and holding onto seats as she made her way to the driver. ‘Excuse me, but my son is going to be sick,’ she said.

The driver half turned around.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Right, well, grab that newspaper by the side of my seat and make him sit on it.’

‘Eh? Sit him on the newspaper?’ quizzed Mum with a puzzled look on her face.

The driver gave a laugh. ‘Yeah, I don’t know why, but it does often stop people feeling sick.’

Willing to try anything, Mum picked up a few sheets and came back.

‘Pop this under you, Paul. The driver says it will stop you chucking up.’

She pushed it under my bum. I struggled, thinking I would look silly and not believing for one moment that the paper would make me better. However, the next thing I remember is waking up, having dozed off, the sickness passed as if by magic and I felt much better. When we arrived in Portsmouth we had to stand and wait a few hours before Dad’s friend Gerry picked us up.

‘Sorry, Cynth.’ He looked embarrassed.

He took us to the house where Dad was staying. A few of the construction men rented the place between them. Dad was sitting at the table; he nodded at us both and handed us 50p each. ‘Go and entertain yourselves until six.’

Terrie had to check her watch was wound up and said the right time. We both then turned and walked down the hallway. On the way out we had to walk past a big glass bowl full of 10ps and 50ps. I looked at Terrie and she raised her eyebrow as we both had the same thought: 50p wasn’t going to last us eight hours. We’d be starving by the time we got back. Terrie grabbed us a handful of change each and we scurried out of the door.

Side by side we set off for the seafront. First stop was the sweet shop. We filled little white bags with sherbet pips, jawbreakers, fruit salads and chewy peanuts. Then we walked to the seafront 15 minutes away and sat down and gorged ourselves. Next, we went roaming on the rocks, grabbing tiny crabs with our hands and chasing each other. We took off our shoes and socks, rolled up our trousers and ran along the sea edge, splashing each other with the cold salty water.

‘I’m cold, Terrie.’ I was shivering; I’d got wetter than I had intended. I was also feeling hungry.

‘Me too,’ agreed Terrie.

We sat on a bench and shared some hot chips. Then we spent the afternoon playing in the amusement arcade.

‘Time to go back, Paul,’ Terrie said resignedly, looking at her watch. She knew I felt the same and squeezed my hand harder as we trudged back. This time the house was quiet as we turned up. No yelling; that was good.

But as soon as we walked in, one look at Mum, her face red and swollen with tears, told us the visit wasn’t going well. Terrie led me off to our room and we quickly got changed. Dad took us to his favourite Chinese restaurant for dinner, but told us we were only allowed crab and sweetcorn soup.

As the pretty Chinese waitress showed us to our seats she looked a bit confused. ‘Hello, John,’ she smiled, bowing. ‘And Karen …?’

Mum visibly bristled, glaring at Dad, as we were ushered to our seats with Dad trying to laugh it off.

I’d heard of Karen a few times by now, but I still had no clue who she was.