Dragons and Butterflies: Just Like Her Father

By Marie Jensen

The UK #1 Kindle School-Age Bestseller from Marie Jensen.

'Just Like Her Father' is the first in a series of six novels, charting the life of Jean Ridgeway. Jean is an abused child who survives. A victim to start with, she worked through her issues. Her past haunted her for many years. Time is a great healer. Pain and suffering can give you inner strength, or break you.

Each novel in the series is a stage in Jean’s life, one girl’s story. This book covers her childhood years. Once you have read Jean’s story, you will understand more about courage and cowardice.

'Often hilarious, sometimes heart-wrenching, always touching. You will be rooting for Jean Ridgeway, as she battles her domestic abuser, and her own fears with the help of her friends. This wonderful childhood tale spans the UK and the 1960's racial hotbed of Singapore, and is made all the more engaging by the fact that it is loosely based on a true story. The tale is the first in a series of six novels, charting Jean's colourful life. Marie Jensen has delivered plenty already, and the remaining volumes in the saga promise much more.' STEVE STONE

'This is the story of a young child who suffered a horrendous upbringing of physical and psychological abuse. You will experience, through Jean Ridgeway's innocent eyes, every emotion to its extreme, from love to hatred, laughter to sadness, hope to despair. It is written in a style that holds nothing back, and compels the reader on and on. Whilst claiming to be a work of fiction, you will be left in no doubt as to the reality of many of the events it portrays. This is a truly impressive work and, with further volumes of The Story of Jean Ridgeway in the pipeline, it will surely launch Marie Jensen on to the world's stage as one of the most moving and powerful writers of our time.' RICHARD O (AMAZON)

'This is a very touching and beautiful novel. The essence of the heroine Jean is captured very poignantly and your heart reaches out for her. Though she herself is in pain and troubles, she is very stoic and yet very loving and loyal to her brother, friends and her pets. The innocence of Jean is captured very realistically and you feel for her. Jean is truly a heroine and I am eagerly waiting for the next book in this series. A truly excellent debut.' MAHENDRA BANGALORE

'The most incredibly honest story I have read for so long. From the first chapter, I knew I wouldn't be able to put it down. A story of how a young girl learns about the grown up world too soon. An emotional tale which will have you gripped from the word go. A highly recommended read.' SIAN WILSON

'Suspenseful tale of a child's attempt to deal with mental and physical abuse.... thoroughly deserves its title of Kindle #1 School-Age yarn.' MARTIN KING

'I engaged with Jean straightaway. I laughed at her superb adventures, as much as I cried, when it came to her genuinely frightening abuser. A great story of a struggle of a girl to retain her sanity, in the face of adversity.' NATALIE COOK

'Epic story of a magical, yet disturbing childhood. Can't wait for the next book covering adolescence (?), to see how it all progresses.' SEAN MURDOCH

'This tale of youth has it all. Fun, hurt, joy, despair, and all set against a background of a military service family traversing the UK and Singapore, interacting with racial tensions in the 1960's.' ARNIE TADWORTH

'Electrifying masterclass in YA writing, but of enormous interest to adults too, as adventure, domestic abuse and mental health overlap.' MAX GRUBER

'I've never known so many ecstatic highs and crashing lows, in just one book. Jean is surrounded by well-formed characters, ranging from her mother, father and brother, to teachers, extended family and friends. The climax is as shocking as it is riveting, as her abuser faces the greatest challenge to his cruel regime.' PAUL CONNELLY

• Language: English
• Publisher: SDS Publishing
• Release date: Mar 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466052246

Marie Jensen

Follow me on Twitter to find out more.

Book preview

FOREWORD

This is the first in a series of six novels, charting the life of Jean Ridgeway. Jean is an abused child who survives. A victim to start with, she worked through her issues. Her past haunted her for many years. Time is a great healer. Pain and suffering can give you inner strength, or break you.

Each novel in the series is a stage in Jean’s life, one girl’s story. This book covers her childhood years. Once you have read Jean’s story, you will understand more about courage and cowardice.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, objects and places are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to other works of fiction is unintentional and coincidental.

Forthcoming books in the Jean Ridgeway series;

Volume Two: The Beautiful Monster

Volume Three: The Metamorphose

Volume Four: The Agony Aunt

Volume Five: There is Trouble in my Mind

Volume Six: The Fifteen Year Itch

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

One: Colston Ridgeway’s Daughter

Two: The Call to Singapore

Three: The Palace

Four: The Pool and the Bucket

Five: Thieves Never Prosper

Six: The Competition

Seven: The Seaside Adventure

Eight: The Two Pigs

Nine: The Fits

Ten: The Shooting

Eleven: The Drug Dealer

Twelve: The Rubbish Tip

Thirteen: Back to Hell

Fourteen: The Dragon and the Butterfly

Fifteen: The Terrible Twins

Sixteen: The Olympics

Seventeen: The Dinner Party

Eighteen: The Birthday Fishing Trip

Nineteen: Racial Tensions

Twenty: The Secret Meeting

Twenty-One: The Forbidden Ledge

Twenty-Two: Enlightenment

Twenty-Three: The Beginning of the End

Twenty-Four: The Bad Tooth

Twenty-Five: The Friendly Cat

Twenty-Six: Return of the Monster

Twenty-Seven: The Faraway Barbecue

Twenty-Eight: The Bombshell

Twenty-Nine: The Sad Goodbyes

Thirty: Her Father’s Side

Thirty-One: The Promised Letter

Thirty-Two: A Budding Romance

Thirty-Three: The Secret Den

Thirty-Four: A Family at War

CHAPTER ONE: COLSTON RIDGEWAY’S DAUGHTER

Jean’s first recollection was when she lived on a farm in Wales. Her father worked away, and her mother cleaned at the main house. The farm was no longer a working farm, and the land had been sold off to some building company, to build a whole estate. So Jean’s father had to go further afield to get work, leaving Jean’s mother behind. Jean was four years old at the time, and she had a ten-month old brother, John.

Both Jean and John were taken by their mother to the main house at six a.m. every morning, so their mother could start work. All would return home to the farm cottage at six p.m. So their mother worked hard, and was obviously always tired.

Jean remembered that her father used to return home periodically, stay a short time, and then leave again. There were never any announcements that he was going to return home. No mother to child conversations about their father returning, no excitement at the thought he was coming to visit. He would just be there one morning, and gone the next. No greetings, no goodbyes. No hugs, no conversation. He became almost like a stranger. Even though the children knew he was their father, they didn’t know anything about him.

The whole mood of the cottage would change, when he was there. Their mother seemed on edge, nervous and unhappy. He was someone to be feared. Jean picked up on this quite quickly, and felt uncomfortable in his presence. But she had no idea why. Jean’s mother would run around after him, for the brief time he was in the cottage. She never smiled, and always had her head down. Jean didn’t want to go anywhere near this man, they called her father. So she played quietly in the other room with her brother, until her father had left.

Then one day he spoke to her, out of the blue. He asked her to pick a hand. Jean just looked at him, puzzled. So he repeated the suggestion. Both his hands were behind his back. So Jean nervously pointed to his left hand. He brought it closer to her, and opened it slowly. He had the biggest bar of chocolate she had ever seen. She thought all her Christmases had come at once. Her little face lit up with the widest smile. He then handed her the chocolate bar, and showed her there was nothing in his other hand. She felt like she had won a million pounds, like she had won a gold medal. She had picked the correct hand, and now the prize was hers to keep. For the very first time in her life, she actually felt wonderful. She walked away to find her brother, so she could share her excitement. John was far too young to eat chocolate, so Jean tore tiny crumbs, and hand-fed him. He was not at all interested in Jean’s story, as she babbled on and on, in between mouthfuls of chocolate, about how clever she was to have won it.

That night in bed, full of chocolate, she lay there so happy, next to her sleeping brother. Her thoughts turned into her first attempt to work out why her mother was so nervous around this man, her father, when he was clearly the most wonderful man in the world. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, and with the last two segments of chocolate tightly wrapped up in a piece of paper, in her little hand.

When she woke up the next morning, the first thing she did was check for the chocolate. The rush of the day before entered her whole body, and she was wide awake, full of joy. She was eager to get dressed, and go downstairs to see her hero, her father. But he had gone. Her mother was making breakfast, and Jean could see that she had walked into another garden rake. Jean wondered why the farm would have so many garden rakes, and why her mother, of all people, would always find them, and walk into them. Jean’s mother smiled, and spoke softly, to tell Jean to eat up her breakfast, as they had a busy day ahead of them.

Months went by, before Jean’s father returned again. She had changed a little. She began to look out of the window at night, and wonder when her father would return. She would wonder what present he would bring back with him, this time.

Jean’s grandmother, Jeanette, lived just three miles away, but never came to the farm cottage, ever. Jean’s mother would take Jean and her brother John to see her grandmother, once a month. Jean loved going to her grandmother’s house. It was warm and welcoming, whereas the cottage was always cold, so cold you could see your breath. Jean’s mother and grandmother would sit in the kitchen, whispering for hours. Jean and John would sit in the warm living room with their grandfather, who loved to watch television, and every half an hour put more coal on the fire. Jean loved to watch the flames in the roaring fire, as much as she loved watching the television. She would sit there, so snugly warm, watching all the shapes of the fire. She was often told not to sit too close to it. But she was fascinated by it, and ignored her mother and grandmother’s requests. They were too busy talking and whispering in the kitchen, to take much notice anyway.

With the guidance of her grandfather, Jean was allowed to use the toasting fork to make thick crusty-bread toast, with lots of butter and jam on. Every mouthful of that toast was heaven. It was the best toast in the world, and you couldn’t get it anywhere else, but at Gran and Grandpa’s house.

If the weather was dry at her grandmother’s, Jean was allowed out to play. There weren’t any children at the cottage, so going out to play made it feel more like a holiday, instead of just a visit. Before going out to play, she would have her hands and face washed by her Gran, to get rid of all the excess butter. Lawrence would always be out there, on his big red bike. Driving around like a maniac, which made Jean smile, as she knew he would be happy to see her, and would let her borrow his bike, for just one go. Up to the end of the road and back, but then she would have to get off, and give the bike straight back, which she did happily, every time. Word always spread quickly, and within five minutes, all of the children would be out, laughing and running around.

Nosey Mrs Robertson would come out, and ask the same question every time. She would ask Jean if her dad was still working away. Jean would smile, and say ‘yes, Mrs Robertson,’ which would make all the other children giggle, and then they would all run off with Jean. Just enough time left for a game of kick the can, and who’s on it.

Then came the day Jean had to start school. Her father was away. Her mother had to take time off work, to get her to school, and told her that she would be waiting outside at four p.m. But from the next day onward, Jean would have to walk to and from school on her own, as the people in the main house weren’t too happy with Jean’s mother, for taking time off. Jean was so excited about going to school, being with other children, her own age. That first day, she just wanted her mother to let go of her hand, and let her run in there with them all. It was all one big adventure to Jean, and nothing could stop her excitement.

But as soon as she ran in to the school, everything changed. The atmosphere inside was so different to what the playground had portrayed. Utter silence, you could hear a pin drop. There was a strange smell in the air, and the classroom looked huge. Jean gulped, and became instantly aware that this was not going to be all fun. The other children in the classroom were feeling it too. Standing by the blackboard, holding a rather long stick, was a woman teacher with a very stern face. She tapped the stick on the wooden floor. Every child in the room stopped breathing, and faced her. In a very stern voice, she then told the pupils to find a desk, and sit in the chairs. All the children scrambled. The teacher shouted to do it quietly, and the room went silent again. The children sat down, then she opened up a big black book, and started calling out names. Jean waited eagerly for her name to be mentioned. It seemed her name would never be called. Then suddenly, there it was, and she very excitedly said ‘yes, Miss’.

But then the teacher stopped. Jean thought that she must be the last child. The teacher said her name again, so she responded a little louder, still a little croaky nervous. The teacher said her name one more time, and Jean became very nervous. The teacher walked over to Jean, and looked her straight in the eye. ‘Come with me.’

So Jean followed her out of the classroom. In the next classroom, which was packed, Jean’s teacher approached a female colleague. ‘Guess who I have here?’

‘Who is she?’

‘It’s Colston Ridgeway’s daughter.’

The colleague looked squarely at Jean. ‘Is your father called Colston Ridgeway?’

Jean’s mind went blank, and then she thought, well it must be, as Ridgeway was her last name. She nodded frantically.

‘Oh, my Lord,’ said the colleague.

Then Jean was pulled by the hand to the next classroom, and was introduced to the next teacher, as Colston Ridgeway’s daughter. The pattern went on through five classrooms, and Jean was struggling to work out just what was going on.

Upon returning to her classroom, she was escorted to her seat, and told to sit. Jean’s teacher went to the blackboard, and carried on calling the register, leaving Jean to wonder what on Earth the whirlwind ride through the classrooms could have meant. One little girl in front of Jean looked around, and smiled. It was perfect timing, as without the smile, Jean would have felt so isolated. The smile settled her for the rest of the morning. She was calmer. They all had to learn the two times table out loud.

At the end of school, the bell rang, and they were all told to leave. As promised, Jean’s mum was outside in the playground, waiting for her. Jean ran over to her, and gave her the biggest hug.

The next day, Jean was not excited about going to school. But she was excited about walking to school on her own, meeting up with the other children in the village, and walking with them to the classroom. All the other children had parents with them, but Jean didn’t mind that she did not. She knew her mother had to work, so she played quite happily.

In the playground, she mixed very well with the children, but became the mouse in the classroom. She did not want to be noticed, or pulled out to do another grand tour of the school. She hadn’t worked out why she had been the only child, to have had the tour.

And she had not mentioned it to her mother either. Jean was now five years old, and able to work things out for herself. What she had worked out so far was that her mother had enough worries, so wouldn’t want any of hers. Maybe, just maybe, it was good news that Jean was the only one to have had the grand tour. Maybe her father was famous, or was the best student ever. Or maybe he wasn’t anything good. Maybe he was the worse student in the school. But all the teachers knew him, or knew of him.

So Jean was determined that none of them would know her. She just wanted to learn how to read, so she could read bedtime stories to John, because her mother was way too tired at night, to do that kind of thing. And even if school lessons were hard, and the place smelled funny, the other classmates were nice. The school dinners were fabulous, and you got dessert.

CHAPTER TWO: THE CALL TO SINGAPORE

Jean had learned how to read. She read every night to John, who never got sick of hearing the same old storybook, over and over again. In fact, no one was more delighted than Jean, to hear John’s first words. ‘More.... more....’

On the weekends, Jean’s mother only worked half-days, so had Saturday and Sunday afternoons off. Saturday afternoons were the day they went to market, to get the weekly shopping done. Pay some bills. Jean would be left outside, keeping an eye on her brother, who was in a pushchair. She would collect old bottle tops, as there was a pub next door. The bottle tops were up an alleyway.

One Saturday, on the way back home, Jean’s mother had to make a phone call, so she stopped off at a building that had a pay phone. It had started to rain heavily, so both the children had to come in with her. They were both told to be very quiet. So Jean gave John his dummy. Jean’s mother picked up the telephone, dialling numbers. It must have been long distance, as there were so many numbers. After a minute or two, she put the phone down, without saying a word. She pressed a button, and a lot of money came falling out. Jean was delighted. She thought her mother had won it. ‘You’ve hit the jackpot,’ Jean squealed, delighted for her mother.

Jean’s mother laughed. Jean loved it when her mother did that rare thing. Her mother hardly ever smiled, but to see her laugh out loud was amazing. They walked home together, in the rain. Saturated to the skin, Jean and John had to have a bath, in front of the kitchen fire. And it wasn’t even Sunday. They soon warmed up, and went to bed in their pyjamas.

Whilst Jean’s mother tucked them both up, Jean asked her who she had been phoning. Jean’s mother had been trying to get hold of her husband. An important letter had arrived, and he had told her to phone him, when she received it. There had been no answer on the phone, but she would try again tomorrow.

The letter was from the Royal Air Force. Jean’s father had tried to join up, as work was hard to get. He was waiting to hear if he had been accepted. And he had been. He had three weeks to get his family, from Wales to Sussex. From there, he would be sent to Singapore, to do a tour of duty. So life for Jean and her family was about to change. She was going to leave the place she had known as home. Leave her grandparents, her school, and her school friends. She was going to live in a hot country, where her father was going to be in the house with them, every night. He would return back to the cottage, pack up all their belongings, and they would be moving.

Jean was about to go on another big adventure. She only had two problems. She didn’t speak Chinese, but they would be living on a British camp. And she had not yet found out why she had been given the grand tour of her school. She didn’t want an unsolved mystery, so she was going to have to ask her mother, even though she really didn’t want to.

She slept on it. Over breakfast, she plucked up enough courage to ask the question. Her mother sat down, held her hand, and told her that it was most probably because the Ridgeway family are a bad lot. Her father and his younger brothers were always getting into trouble, when they were younger. Mud sticks. Jean didn’t quite understand, so just listened, pretending that she did. Jean’s mother added that Grandma and Granddad never came to visit the cottage, because they refuse to step into the house of a Ridgeway. That bit Jean did understand.

She was very sad to hear that her grandparents wouldn’t come to visit, ever again. Her father would soon be in the house, all of the time. She relayed her sadness to her mother, who didn’t think her grandparents would ever come all the way to Singapore to visit anyway, as it’s thousands of miles away. But Jean’s mother promised to bring her back every year, for a visit with them. And instead of just going there for the day, they would go over and stay for two weeks, living in grandmother’s house for the whole holiday. Jean asked what her father would do. Her mother explained that he had his own family to visit. And it was left at that.

Jean thought that her father and his family were a bad lot, but her mother must love him to have married him, and to have two children with him. And she must love him enough to fall out with Grandma and Granddad, over planning to go the other side of the world with him.

Life was going to be so different. Jean used her natural ability to change anything that scared her into an adventure. So that night, instead of reading the storybook to John, she made up her own very exciting adventure about two children moving to a hot climate, where they would need to learn Chinese, and fast.

Jean’s mother did two things that Sunday. She got hold of her husband, who was thrilled to hear he had been accepted. He told Jean’s mother that his job would be over in ten days, and he would then return to the farm, to help pack everything up. She also wrote a funny little story about her five-year-old daughter, who thinks that when you press button B on a telephone, and money comes out, you’ve won it.

Jean’s mother later posted the story to her favourite magazine. They actually printed it in the next issue, and because they did that, they sent her a cheque. It was the equivalent of a full week’s wages, so she was highly delighted, as they did struggle financially.

Jean still attended school, whilst waiting for her father to come home. Her mother handed in her notice at the main house, giving herself a full week off, to pack up before the move. Jean’s father came home, ten days before the leaving date.

Jean had made really good friends in school, and walked home with them every day. By this time, they were also walking home without their parents. But they didn’t have as far to walk as Jean. They just had to walk up the hill, to the estate. Jean had a further mile to walk, to get to the cottage.

One day, Jean’s best friend, Gloria invited her to her house, to show what she had got for her birthday. Jean was thrilled by the invitation to go in, and see a new toy. When she entered Gloria’s house, she couldn’t believe how warm and cosy it was. There was food on the table, and toys everywhere. There were boxes of toys, all over the place. A quarter of cake sat on the side, with a net basket over it. A single candle was stuck in the cake. The other three quarters was missing, but five candles were laid down, beside the basket.

Gloria’s mother was ironing in the kitchen. She asked Jean if she would like some cake. ‘Oh, yes, please,’ Jean replied, thrilled.

The cake was delicious, and she sat with Gloria, playing with all the toys. Then Gloria’s mother asked Jean her name. Jean introduced herself, and the original welcoming smile disappeared from the face of Gloria’s mother, replaced with a look of deep concern. ‘You had better go now, Jean,’ Gloria’s mother began, ‘your mother will be worrying about you. Does she know where you are?’

‘No,’ confirmed Jean. She smiled, said her goodbyes, and left happily. Starting to walk home alone, she realised that Gloria had held a birthday party. Some of the evidence was still there, in her home. Pin the tail on the donkey was still on the living room wall. Hand-drawn pictures from her other school friends were dotted about.

Jean wondered why Gloria had not invited her. After all, she was her best friend. But all these little worries and concerns fell to one side, as Jean pushed open the big door to her own cottage. Her mother was crying, and her father stood there, with a very red angry face. Jean’s mother shouted at her, demanding to know where the hell she had been. Jean stuttered, explaining she had been to see Gloria’s new birthday toys, not quite understanding what all the fuss was about.

Then Jean’s father took off the belt from his trousers, and pointed to the hall door. Jean understood this to mean that she needed to move, as fast as possible to her room. So she ran upstairs quickly, and her father followed her. He was a big man, and a very angry man, shouting all the way up the stairs that Jean had worried her mother sick, and he was about to teach Jean a hard lesson, so that she would never do it again.

Jean was terrified. She didn’t know what to do or say, so she just covered her eyes with her little hands, and cried helplessly. Her father picked her up with one hand, and threw her on the bed. He strapped her again and again. She was consumed with fear, pain, and anxiety. She begged him to stop, but he ignored her cries. He kept repeating himself over and over. She was a bad girl, and she must never again cause her mother to worry like that. With every thrash of the belt on her tender skin, she screamed, and promised never to do it again.

But she didn’t know what she had done. She was promising to be good, but she was a good kid, she never did anything wrong. She was black and blue by the time he finished beating her, and she sobbed her heart out, alone in her bed for another two hours, before her mother brought John up to bed. ‘You must promise never to be late home from school,’ said her mother, ‘ever again, Jean.’

‘I promise,’ Jean whispered. ‘I will never be late home again.’

‘Good girl.’ Her mother laid John down and walked away, turning off the light, as she closed the door. Jean wanted so badly