I close the file. Iguess there was nothing there which surprised me since George had alreadyprepared me. But, seeing it there written in black and white in the form of anofficial document made it seem all the more real somehow. It literally knockedthe stuffing right out of me.
I had to sit with this reality I was beingconfronted with and consider its validity. Perhaps George was correct. Perhapseverything in this report was correct. Perhaps I am crazy. I made the journeyto Skye to revisit my past and deal with, as George so aptly put it,‘unfinished business.’ There certainly was unfinished business. The world as Ipreviously knew it had literally been blown apart. I felt lost and vulnerable,floundering in unchartered waters.
I raise my head and take in mysurroundings. There is no James. This is worrying. Have I really just had ahallucinogenic experience? If I were to stop taking my ‘anxiety pills’ whatwould the repercussions be? Would I sink further into a deep Psychosis? Ishudder at the thought. The words of Mr Morton still ringing in my ears: ‘Irecommend he takes the anti-psychotic medication potentially for the rest of hislife.’
My feelings of beinglost and vulnerable are quickly replaced by a red-hot fury. The hatred I feelfor the man who was supposed to be my protector and carer are as raw today asthey were on the day he so savagely struck me to the ground at Neist Point. Heis the cause of all of it! If what George and the Psychiatrist are saying istrue, I created an imaginary world to cope with the daily abuse I suffered athis hands.
The floodgates open.It feels like my soul has been laid bare. A tidal wave of pent-up rage,sadness, and bitterness burst forth. I cry with wild abandon for the poor boy Iwas, living through that hellish nightmare. I cry for what could have been.What a sad, sad twisted excuse for a human being my father was and still is.Since the day Michael was placed in my arms, it has been my life’s work to loveand nurture him. The thought of Michael having to endure even a fraction ofwhat I went through makes me feel physically sick to the stomach.
Even after all this time he is unrepentantand still playing his sick little games. As if mother isn’t going throughenough right now, he tormented her by visiting her in her care home and saidGod only knows what to her. I wish I had been there! I will have my day withhim. Man to man. Will he still be so sure of himself then? I am no longer thelittle boy he so easily dominated.
I am distracted by a persistent knock atthe door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Janey, pleasecan I come in?” I mumble a feeble “OK.” She bursts into the room. “Thomas, I amso sorry, but I could hear you crying from the other side of the house. Icouldn’t just leave you on your own. Come here.” She holds me tightly and Imelt into her warm embrace. “Is it the report, darling? Is that what has gotyou so upset?”
“That and the fact that it feels as thoughnone of my life makes any sense anymore! It has all been based on fantasy. I amupset but I am so angry at the same time. None of this would be happening if itwasn’t for that pathetic, sadistic father of mine.”
“That is very true, sweetheart. No-oneshould have to go through what you went through.”
We sit in silence for several minutes thenJaney looks at me square in the face. “Do you think you will go and see himwhilst you are here?” It is a fair question and one I have wrestled with.
“On the one hand, Icould do to put an ocean-sized distance between us. But, on the other hand,part of me desperately wants to confront him, to ask him things I wasn’t ableto as a young boy. The main one being ‘why?’ Why did you put mother and I throughit all? Why didn’t you get me the help I clearly needed when I was mentallyill?”
“That makes sense,and it might give you some closure on everything.”
Janey goes quiet again then startsfidgeting and shifting about in her seat.
“What is it? Is everything OK?” I hear hertake a couple of deep breaths before she answers me.
“No, not really. There is something whichhas been playing on my mind too, Thomas. Please know that I have wanted to tellyou this before. There have been many occasions when I thought about it, but itgenuinely never seemed like the right time. That is not a cliché. I just feltbefore that it might do more harm than good.”
I interject, I can’t help it. “God Janey,you’ve got me worried! What is it? The last thing I need right now is more badnews.”
“Iknow, I know. But I have thought about this long and hard, and I can’t think ofa better time to tell you. You are here to learn the truth about your past andI can’t keep this from you any longer … When your father struck you at NeistPoint, I witnessed it. It was me who phoned for the ambulance.”
CHAPTER 23
I
am flabbergasted, thoroughly dumfounded. I look at my wifeas though she is a stranger. How could this be? I started this journey notknowing what to expect and I have now learned that I have a mental illness andmy wife (my soulmate and confidant whom I thought I knew everything about) hitsme with this – ‘when your father struck you at Neist Point, I witnessed it.’
I turn to her to form some words butnothing tangible comes out, only garbled noises. “Oh Thomas, I am so sorry.Please, please believe me I have wanted to tell you – long before now! I knowyou are going to be in shock, you have every right to be. Do you want me togive you some space or do you want me to explain what happened?” This timethere is no hesitation
