I knew from the very beginning that what my dad was doing to me was wrong. I was just two when it started. My dad Paul would come into my bedroom at night and sexually assault me. Even at that age, I knew he shouldn’t be doing those things to me, but as I got older I never felt like I could tell anyone, least of all my mother Kathy.
I adored my mum. She worked hard as a senior manager, and I have fond memories of us singing songs from in the car and cuddling up together watching a film. Mum was so caring and trusting – although sadly that was a trait that worked to my dad’s advantage, and she had no idea about the things
