Sarah Wilson - Violated - A Shocking and Harrowing Survival Story From the Notorious Rotherham Abuse Scandal

Then, when I was six, there was finally a glimmer of hope. Mum sat us down and explained that Dad wouldn’t be coming home. Don’t ask me why, but I knew this time was different to all the rest. She’d been at the end of her tether for a while and I think she had finally realised she couldn’t go on like this – for our sake as much as her own. She had summoned up the courage to go to the police about Dad at last. She never told us what had happened, but from that day things were different. Dad wasn’t sent back to jail, but Mum was granted an injunction, which meant he was banned from contacting us for a bit.

Mum really wanted a fresh start, and our house in Psalters Lane held too many bad memories. It took her a little while to get a new house, but a few months later we moved a few miles away, to another part of Rotherham called East Dene. Gradually, I started to come out of my shell. My new school was a bit better and I liked most of the teachers. I made a little group of friends and I even started to pay more attention in class.

We also had some nice neighbours, who had a pond in their garden with lots of frogs. They also had a son my age, called John. I took a bit of a shine to him and we used to tell people we were boyfriend and girlfriend, although we were always falling out! Those were good, fun times.

Things even started to pick up with Dad. He’d tried to get custody of us shortly after he and Mum split up, but of course he didn’t get very far. Mum was having none of it, plus he had a criminal record. But he had a new girlfriend called Ellen who seemed really nice, and Mum eventually let us see him on weekends and school holidays. We had some nice times at Rother Valley Country Park, just down the road, and we even tried canoeing and rafting. Don’t get me wrong, I always got the impression that Ellen was far more interested in us than Dad was, but it was nice that we could all be civil at least.

Then, just before my ninth birthday, Mum announced that we were moving back to Psalters Lane. She had lots of friends in Ferham and Kimberworth and I think she missed being so close to them. Another family had moved into our old house, with all its bad memories, but Mum had found us a new place on one of the little side streets, just off the main road. It was semi-detached, with a bit of a garden and three bedrooms. I’d share with Laura and Mark would share with Robert, just across the hall.

I wasn’t sure how to feel as we packed our things and the removal van set off back towards Ferham. Of course, I didn’t really want to go back to my old school and face the girls who’d made my life a misery, but as the familiar red brick houses of Psalters Lane slid into view, I tried to convince myself I’d find a way of coping.

Sadly, when we got back to Psalters Lane my old school bullies became the least of my problems.

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