‘Not you too…’
After years of suffering, my sister revealed something which shook me to the core...
Dipping in and out of the waves, I kicked my little legs as hard as I could.
Looking back towards the beach, I watched my younger sister Emily, 9, shriek as she jumped into the crashing tide.
Beyond her, on the shore, our uncle Neil was watching us.
It was summer 2011, and we’d finally broken up from school.
Mum and Dad were busy working.
But ‘Uncle Neil’, 69
– actually our mum’s cousin’s husband – offered to babysit.
He’d take us to the park to feed the ducks, to the cinema...
But the seaside was our favourite summer spot.
As we arrived home that day, Neil handed us both a £5 note.
‘Pocket money,’ he smiled.
‘That’s sweet of you,’ Mum grinned.
He started giving it to us every week.
A kind gesture, something any other uncle would do.
Only, a year later, when
I was 13, Neil’s kindness turned creepy.
Chatting to friends on Skype messenger, I received a contact request. Neil. Lilly is really, really, superbly gorgeous, he typed. My stomach turned as I read the message again.
It didn’t feel right for my uncle to talk to me like that.
Soon, another message popped up.
You’re sexy, Neil said, making me shudder.
I was too embarrassed to share the messages with Emily or my parents.
Days later, Neil came over. I felt nervous around him.
As Neil followed me into the kitchen, I felt his gaze linger on my body.
A sleazy snarl replaced his usual kind smile.
‘I’d love to see you in bed,’ he said.
My cheeks burned and tears prickled my eyes.
I was frozen, too terrified to move or call out for my parents, who were pottering in the garden.
Running upstairs to my bedroom, I barricaded the door with my bed and hid under the duvet.
Hearing him call my name later, saying he had my pocket money, made my whole body tremble.
But I couldn’t hide forever. One day after school, weeks later, I was enjoying a bath.
As I dried off in my bedroom afterwards, I heard steps approaching.
The door swung open and Neil walked in.
His eyes lit up and he trawled across every inch of my naked body.
‘What are you doing?’ I whispered as he closed the door behind him.
Pushing me onto my bed, Neil forced his hand between my legs.
Paralysed with fear, I froze as he abused me.
From that moment on, I wasn’t the same girl.
Yet Neil still acted the doting uncle, bringing us pocket money and taking us to the beach.
‘I don’t want to go,’
I begged Mum.
‘It’s Uncle Neil’s treat,’ Mum said.
No escape.
When I was 14, we were spending yet another afternoon at the beach.
As I waded into the water, I heard Neil’s voice behind me.
‘Let’s play the shark attack game,’ he said, pulling me towards him.
Then, he reached into my swimming costume and touched me between my legs.
I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Emily was paddling just metres away, totally oblivious.
Back at home, the vile messages on Skype continued.
The best day we have had this year was
7 May. You didn’t want to come out of your room to get the money,’ he said.
Remembering the day he’d told me he’d like to see me in bed, I shuddered.
Perhaps it was because you wanted me to come in? It was certainly wonderfully, marvellous, fabulous, terrific, superb when I did, do you remember?
The first time he’d abused me. How could I forget?
I liked the shark attack game we played in the sea. It was great fun swimming with you, he wrote.
I felt sick remembering his hands on me.
I just prayed Neil would leave me alone. But he didn’t. Neil sent me Valentine’s Day cards, signing them anonymously so my parents wouldn’t know.
Then, just before my 18th birthday, Mum revealed she was planning a family meal to celebrate.
‘Is Neil coming to it?’ I blurted out. ‘Of course,’ she said. Was there no escaping him? As a big group of us sat down for the meal, I kept my distance from Neil.
But later, I saw Emily, 16, getting upset.
Neil was accusing her of hacking his computer.
Strange, I thought, as Emily wiped away a tear.
It was a ridiculous claim and I was furious.
His presence had ruined my 18th birthday.
Finally home, hours later, I thought the drama was over.
Only, as soon as the front door closed, Emily collapsed onto the sofa. Uncontrollable sobs fell out of her.
‘Neil’s been abusing me for years,’ she cried, head in her hands.
He’d abused her when teaching her to swim in the sea.
On the stair-lift at his house, as well.
Thinking back to the summer days we’d spent on the beach, how did I have no idea it was happening to my little sister too?
I was devastated.
He’d sent her creepy text messages, as well.
Did you see the new
Mrs Brown’s Boys episode tonight about the stair-lift? It certainly made me think again about the fabulous experience I had here with you.
He’d even signed one of the messages: Disgusting, horrible, ancient old Neil.
Emily’s relief at telling us became my opportunity.
I took a deep breath and began to tell my family what I’d endured.
Our parents were utterly distraught – they’d trusted Neil.
‘I promise we’ll get justice,’ Mum soothed.
We reported Neil to the police, and Emily and I gave our statements about the abuse we’d suffered.
In November
2017, Neil Bancroft, 75, appeared at Bournemouth
Crown Court.
There, he admitted two counts of sexual assault, one of assaulting a female by penetration, relating to me, and one of assaulting a girl under the age of 13, relating to Emily.
He was jailed for six years and made the subject of an indefinite restraining order and sexual harm prevention order. Emily and I are still traumatised by the abuse, both seeing a counsellor. But knowing Neil’s in prison makes our devastation manageable.
We feel safe, for the first time in years.
I took a deep breath and began to tell my family...