SUNDAYS AT THE BEACH - 1965

This was written immediately after a counselling session with a Cruse counsellor. We were discussing what I considered to be normal for a child and ...

She said it might put things into perspective if I could see things as if they had happened to
someone else, rather than to me.
Would I be angry if some told me that when they were twelve their dad had taken her and her sister to the beach with his secretary and ...

Mum had stayed at home, too depressed to go out.
Didn't know the secretary went instead.
Dad had said it was a secret, not to tell mum, it would make her ill.
But she wasn't hurting her mum.
He was.
She went to the beach.
With her little sister.
To look after her.
That is her job.
To take care of her.
They had only had her to keep her company.
Dad had told her that.
'She is your responsibility' he had said
And she believed him.
So she must make sure she doesn't get hurt.
She is only ten.
At the beach the secretary undresses into her bikini.
Gaudy clashing flowers.
Not enough material, way too much flesh.
Her dad's hands stroke sun tan oil over her stomach
Inside her bikini top. Why?
Must get away.
Wants to be sick.
The bulge in her dad's swimming trunks, what is that?
Must go and get an ice cream, must get away.
This is wrong, mum is at home.
They should be with her.
Secretary touching him now, his thighs, his eyes have gone strange.
Must get away now.
Get the ice cream.
Go for a walk.
Collect shells.
Paddle.
Not look back.
It's a secret, dad's little secret.
Now it has to be our secret.
From mum.
Words nearly the same, secret and secretary ...
How weird.

The counsellor let me share lots of 'childhood moments' like this and the conclusion I came to was that even if I saw it as normal, it should have been different.