Jersey, written in 2011, continued

Anyway, the churchwarden couple arranged for me to stay with a friend of theirs, and I had to wonder at their choice of friends, she was a big lady, who wore a lot of makeup, and I hate to be personal but I found the makeup and the way she dressed difficult to understand, she worked day or evening shifts and was in bed the rest of the time, she didn’t take to me, and I didn’t take to her, she was a ‘Christian’ converted by the abuser, but I hate to say that I couldn’t see the Christianity in her, she was like St. A's and the Americanized Evangelical Jersey churches, cold, empty, the God is the shallow one, for show, who am I to judge? I am no-one, I am condemned as wicked by these churches and people.

I was there briefly and it was not to be long term, I was there while her usual lodger was away for a few weeks, in the meantime the churchwarden’s wife was helping me to enquire about lodgings, but we were looking in the paper for lodgings, which isn’t the best source, and the accommodation coming up was too grotty in her opinion or too expensive, they had decided to keep me on the island no matter what and I was going along with them. Though I did think that actually finding lodgings and a job in Jersey were going to be an impossible task considering the residency requirements and competition for non-qualified jobs, all the meagre amount of agricultural work left in the island went to foreign workers who could be underpaid and would sleep in bad conditions with no rights.

I went back to England for a long weekend, I stayed at JM’s house (at her invitation), and I remember JM recounting to her mother some of the list of people I hoped to see and things I hoped to do while I was back, all the old friends who are now gone had to be visited and given Jersey souvenirs and hear what had happened, and of course I had to ice skate and go Tesco shopping, as all Jersey people do when they visit England, there is no Tesco in Jersey, groceries are very expensive over there, and back then I was driving and had a car to load with cheap Tesco goodies, a favourite in Jersey for example, is Tesco Loo rolls, in Jersey you cannot imagine a pack of loo rolls for 46p, even car boot sales are more expensive there.

Anyway, a hectic and joyful weekend occurred, pots of tea were had, stories were recounted, gifts were given, I actually felt happy, I had received in the post my National Certificate in Agriculture with double distinctions, and my 'adoptive parents' in Jersey given me some spending money for England. I loved the ferry journeys, I even got a night stayover at **** and *****’s house in Dorset on the way back to the ferry.

I arrived back in Jersey and I had moved from the adoptive parent’s friend’s house to their son and daughter-in-law’s house to house sit while they were away, they were away a lot as the son was in the RAF and had an RAF house in Belgium, when I first met their son he told his son that I might not want to shake hands, and that started things off awkward and as the churchwarden's wife continued to resent me and speak to her son about me it was difficult to talk to him. It was luxury being in a ‘qualified’ house on my own for a few weeks though, my 'adoptive dad' had left me a nice note in the house saying that he was busy for a few days and that they would see me later in the week, he signed it daddy I think, which is sweet, he called himself my daddy and called his wife my ‘mummy’, she hated this. But she did come and buy me dinner at lunch time (when I was at work) and tell me that their house would always be a port in the storm for me.

It is better for me to call them my adoptive parents than my abusers, I have decided, at least at this point, I loved them by now, I found it difficult to love the woman as she found it difficult to love me, she seemed to feel obliged, which was sad, and very different from Jill Lihou. 

But the churchwarden loved me (told me so often), overloved me in a similar yet different way from Jill, he cried over me, which really really startled me, I am not sexist but it is one thing for a woman to cry but it is strange indeed for a man to be like that, he was in some ways very effeminate, with his tactility and emotions, and I asked ‘why, daddy?’ he answered that some of it was because he was from a broken home. 

I may be able to write all this with insight, but believe me I didn’t and don’t understand things at the time so well, it is hindsight and analysis as well as writing things exactly as I saw and heard them.

I am not sure why now, but I actually had two weekend trips to England within a month, after being in Jersey all summer with no break. This time my trip was hijacked by George and Jill, who were in Jersey with their daughter and family and once again strongly trying to become part of my life. 

They met my adoptive dad, because he said he wanted to meet them, to dot a few i’s and cross a few t’s, whatever that means. He held me proudly as we stood and talked to them, and I was submissive and let him lead the conversation and manipulate me as he wished, he then had to go and Jill and George got me to sit in their car and drink tea with them, they heard I was coming back to England for the weekend and wanted me to stay with them, my bright and cheerful visions of ******* and Winchester faded a bit but Jill really wanted me with them, so I agreed to a night or was it two with them, anyway,(during the time in England)I ended up distressed and ran away from them to JM, when I got to JM’s house I was crying and she wanted to comfort me but I stopped crying because now the hold Jill and George had over me was weaker and once I was in ****** I stopped crying for them and just got on with things.

It was the week I got back I think, that the churchwarden/adoptive dad came with me to his son’s house where I was house sitting, to collect some paperwork for my insurance, because he had taken over my paperwork and was working to sort my car papers out to make sure I was legal in Jersey, I got the paperwork from my jumble of papers upstairs, and went down to where he was in the lounge, he started cuddling me as he often did, and he was stroking, and his hands went briefly to where they shouldn’t go on my chest. I reacted sharply and he sat down and prayed, I was startled to say the least. (both by the crossed boundaries and how he reacted to my reaction).

It took a tricky while to get the car legal as it waited to be registered as a Jersey car, they helped me to register it as a Jersey car as well, and I felt very proud as the final stages were just my work, I had imported a car! Hows that for an achievement for a rather troubled autistic girl!

My adoptive dad sat me down one day, he told me that he had had a dream, he dreamed that I had come to the back of the house as usual and then gone round to the front and unlocked the front door with a key and come in. He asked me what I thought the dream meant, and I said maybe it meant I should be moving to France soon.

He told me that they were inviting me to stay at their house as their Son and daughter in law were coming back.

He got me to bring my car over and clean it on their driveway, and I mowed the lawn while I was there, much to the delight of the wife. Then later that week I moved in to live at their house.

They had had me to stay over a few times, and my adoptive dad liked sending me to rest in this little spare room sometimes when I was at their house anyway, he was delighted to have me living there, though it was for the time being while I was looking for lodgings.