Nowhere to Run: Where do you go when there’s nowhere left to hide?. Judy Westwater
Читать онлайн.| Название | Nowhere to Run: Where do you go when there’s nowhere left to hide? |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Judy Westwater |
| Жанр | Биографии и Мемуары |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Биографии и Мемуары |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9780007283804 |
Nowhereto Run
Where do you go when there’snowhere left to hide?
JUDY WESTWATER
THE BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF STREET KID
FOR ALL SURVIVORS
Hold fast that strength of courage
Table of Contents
I never had anyone looking after me—I always just looked after myself from when I was very young.
My father, a phoney spiritualist preacher, used me as a punch bag from the day he abducted me as a two-year-old from his estranged wife’s home in a spiteful gesture of revenge. His partner Freda treated me like her slave, starving and beating me daily and locking me out in the back yard in all weathers. Things weren’t any better when they took me to live in South Africa then abandoned me, so that I ended up sleeping rough on the streets of Johannesburg at the age of twelve. When I was seventeen, I came back to the UK to look for my Mum but found she didn’t want to have anything to do with me; she and my sisters had their own lives to lead by then.
I was pretty streetwise and knew how to keep myself alive. I wouldn’t starve or die of cold so long as I could forage in dustbins for food and find an old shack to sleep in. But I didn’t have a clue about how normal human relationships worked. I didn’t have any social skills or instincts about character. If someone was nice to me, I thought that meant they were a good person and I gave them my trust. If they treated me badly, I thought it was my fault, that I must have done something wrong. As for love, I didn’t know what that meant.
A whole new learning curve was about to begin.
The advert in the Manchester Evening News read: ‘Trapeze artist wanted. Belle Vue Firework Island and Amusement Park.’ I’d worked in a circus before, in South Africa: once, when I was eleven, I ran away from my father and stepmother’s brutal regime and joined Wilkie’s Circus for two months until I was apprehended. I looked back on those days as some of the happiest of my life, when I felt part of an extended family of fairground folk. Now, in 1962, I was seventeen, homeless and needed a job badly, so I rang the number