A Normal Life

By Aura Angel

Parental love was in short supply when Aura Angel was growing up, in a household where there was so little money that her parents would burn the floorboards of their council house to keep warm in winter. Her father would beat her at the slightest excuse, and when he left home her mother took over, using brooms and kitchen implements to make sure the blows hurt. Her mother’s conflicts with authority led Aura (not her real name) to eight schools and more than 20 homes before finally, at 12 years old, she marched into the local Social Services offices and asked them to take care of her. Her troubles were far from over; an abortion at 16 followed and two children by fathers who badly let her down. Yet now, in her forties, she is at peace with herself. She has written A Normal Life as “a counselling tool for myself”. It is an extraordinary and moving story, candidly and sensitively written.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mereo Books
• Release date: Apr 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781909544680

Book preview

A NORMAL LIFE

A story of abuse, survival and finding a new life

AURA ANGEL

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 Aura Angel

All Rights Reserved.

Published by Memoirs

25 Market Place, Cirencester, Gloucestershire GL7 2NX, England

Tel: [phone], Email: [e-mail]

www.memoirspublishing.com

Read all about us at www.memoirspublishing.com. See more about book writing on our blog www.bookwriting.co. Follow us on www.twitter.com/memoirsbooks

Join us on www.facebook.com/MemoirsPublishing

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the copyright holder. The right of Aura Angel to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 sections 77 and 78.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-909544-68-0

Contents

Unknown Warrior

Introduction

1. First memories

2. On the move

3. The worst place ever

4. My new life

5. Boys – nothing but trouble

6. The best time ever

7. A second chance?

Unknown Warrior

I am an unknown warrior

Like many who lose their way

I’m fighting for the freedom

I hope to find one day

I share the warriors’ unknown gift

And give what I have to share

For many warriors are unknown

And no one can see us there

18.04.12

Introduction

Rain was pounding on the windows the day I came into the world, or so I was told. The labour was fraught with difficulties and lasted 36 hours, unusual for a third child. My mother had an ulcer and at the age of 32, this increased the risks. I was the biggest of her second family of three children, weighing a mighty 6lbs. The month was November, making me a Scorpio. At times I like to think that the determination of this sign has helped me through the tough times, and believe me there were many of those.

Back then when we used to talk, my mother said I was a difficult child. Now I fill with anger and irritation and I can’t stay long in a room with her; I never know when she’s going to kick off. This happens every time I see her, which is not very often; to my relief I’m not ready to tackle those demons yet. Don’t get me wrong, I visit my mother birthdays, Easter and Christmas. Ironic really, considering I don’t believe in God. I suppose there is some guilt there now, seeing her living on her own with no support except from the warden who visits three times a week, but then where was she when I was growing up? I have selfish thoughts too, just like everyone else. Maybe the tranquillizers prescribed by the doctor for depression had something to do with it, or maybe it was and is because she has a mental illness - who knows?

Tell it to someone who cares, I hear you say; ah, but I don’t. Not today, not yesterday, but there’s always tomorrow. Quite cynical for a thirty-something, maybe I’ll mature with age.

When I was born in the late sixties, I had a father too. He didn’t hang around long; I was supposed to be a boy. When the boy did come along, he left with him. Then he brought him back, I’m not sure if it was because he had to or he found out how hard it was to balance his care for him with the women he wanted. Back then in the late sixties, early seventies, I suppose men (in general) were the ones who left the baggage, and if they were lucky (fortunately for us we were) they would get a visit now and then. He and mother tried to reconcile when I was about eight, but I wasn’t having a bar of it. Children can be so selfish, can’t they? I didn’t understand the concept of love; even now I find it hard. My mother loved him for her own reasons. She never married again and never had a regular boyfriend; most people were scared of her, they didn’t know when she was going to kick off.

My mother was thirteen years older than my dad - I say was, because he died on December 31st 2002 age 54 (I think). I know some of her childhood she told us in bits, maybe they’re the only bits she remembers. She was born to a single mum and moved south with her. Her mother (whose name I don’t know) became house staff to a man she eventually married and they had another two children, boys. She only told me some of her childhood, and said her father was a musician. The man her mother married became her father, and no doubt she had her trials and tribulations living with the damage of the war. She mentioned once that they had ration books but didn’t elaborate on it. Most of her past she keeps private, or maybe she doesn’t remember. She trained as a nurse but didn’t continue into employment. She married young and had a boy from that marriage. It didn’t last; they separated and the son stayed with his father’s mother.

My dad I know even less. He met my mother when he was stationed with the army in the south. I don’t know if they married because my mum got pregnant or if he actually did love her. When he finished his time in the army they moved to the West Midlands. In fact, I think my dad moved up first because my mum was doing time for stabbing him; then when she was released she came too. We kids stayed with his parents. When mum came we took residence in a council house just up the road from them. My granddad (Ted) used to sit me on his knee and show me his finger. He kept it in a baccy tin on the shelf next to where he spent most of his time in an armchair; he said he had lost it in the war. It took me a few minutes to realise that when he put the tin back he always had five fingers, but I always told him to show me every time I visited (nearly every day). Inside the tin there was cotton wool lining the bottom, with a hole just big enough for his finger to fit in. The blood was food colouring I think, to make it look authentic.

I have a few photos of the time they took me and my sister to the seaside, but I have no recollection of the event. It must have been when we were living with them. My brother wasn’t born then, he was doing time with my mum in Tonevale (Bristol) then Powick (Worcestershire). My granddad died in 1975 when I was about six; he had cancer. One day he was there, then he was gone. No explanation, no excuses, just gone. I don’t think of him much now but when I do I always remember his tin. I’m smiling now just thinking about it.

My grandmother lived a while longer, having settled down with a taxman called John. She moved to the next town, where she lived until I was 19 and she was 66. John died shortly