Cupboard Boy

By P.T. Saunders

Paul's father selfishly deserted him and his mother for another woman when Paul was just coming up to two years of age.
Paul's mother quickly entered into a new mixed race relationship, which in 1960's Britain was very much frowned upon. Consequently Paul and his mother were instantly ostracised by their family and friends and they were left to suffer/witness dreadful physical abused and neglect at the hands of Roy an evil and very sick man.
The following, is a harrowing story and may - no should be as distressing to read, as it is for me to write. However, the events that took place during the years 1963 to 1980 need to be recorded, for the sake of future generations of children to come, and out of respect to all the children who have already suffered at the hands of demonic parents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P T Saunders
• Release date: May 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386277224

Book preview

Chapter One

A walk in the dark

I can’t remember the exact date, but it was sometime in the winter of 1963 and I had just turned two years of age. It was a dark and cold winters evening, and the air was still and thick with the smell of burning coal. Visibility was down to just in front of your nose.

I was being pushed along the streets in my little pushchair all wrapped up nice and cosy. My mother and I were on route to what was to be our new home, 62 Hill Street. The place where in the not too distant future my soon to be step brothers, sisters and my own nightmare existence was to begin.

What happened to us and the things we witnessed between the years 1963 and1980 would psychologically scar me and my step siblings for life.

When my mother and I eventually arrived at 62, we were greeted by a hugely built, brick shithouse of a black man. I had never seen a black man before, so as he stooped down to greet me with his huge black face, beaming white smile, I remember feeling fairly scared!

He went by the name of Roy, and after my initial shock, he seemed a nice enough man. After an hour or so, he started to grow on me, even though his size still felt quite intimidating. It still does to this day actually.

I didn’t know it then, but he was going to be my new stepfather, and the man I would later hate with a vengeance, and someone I often dreamt of killing.

I think the only reason I never did attempt to kill him when I was younger, was the fear of the possible repercussions of failing in my effort. That fear of failure is probably the only reason he still alive today plus I’m a law abiding citizen.

Chapter Two

Deserted at two

My real father, had selfishly deserted my mother and me for another woman about ten months prior. Taking with him my older brother Duncan age 4 and Sister Caren aged 6. My mum told me some years later that he had an affair with a woman who lived across the road from us and had moved in with her. Although he lived about 15 yards away he never once came back to visit me.

My first and only memory of my real father prior to him leaving us, was when he drove his motor bike through our front door, which happened to be locked at the time. He and my mother had fallen out earlier during the day and she put the latch on to stop him from coming in. As a result he simply tried to break the door down with his motorbike, not knowing I was playing in the hallway. His reckless riding got him into trouble and some policemen came and took him away. Leaving our door hanging off as they did so.

The day my father moved in with his lover would not be the last time my father would abandon me over the next few years. In fact it would be fair to say that my real dad never ever gave a shit about me. I don’t know why, but hey I couldn’t give a shit now, and even if I did want to know It’s too late as he died when I was 27.

I was a soldier and on tour in Northern Ireland at the time of his death. I had just come back from a four hour street patrol and was tucking into well-earned scran, when I was called into my commander’s office and told the news. Due to heart failure apparently.

My commanding officer offered me the opportunity to take leave and attend his funeral. I declined. Deserting him for a change.

My commanding officer was quite surprised when I declined the offer, and probably thought that I was in shock. He asked me again the following day, and the answer was the same. No.

Chapter Three

Dying for the loo

It didn’t take my mum long to get over my dad leaving her, and within the space of a few months she started to enjoy her regular Friday nights out on the town with her girl friends

It was whilst out on one of these nights, that my mother suddenly got caught short and desperately needed to use a loo. As there were no public toilets and no suitable bushes to hide behind in the