By Audrey Delaney
An account of a scared and damage little lady who controlled to confront her demons and reclaim her existence.
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Extra resources for All My Fault: The true story of a sadistic father and a little girl left destroyed
The true story of a sadistic father and a little girl left destroyed AUDREY DELANEY Contents Cover About the Book Title Copyright Dedication Author’s Note Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Epilogue Acknowledgements Happy Being Me This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law.
In those days, everything was done by hand so housework was ten times harder than it is now. I’ll never forget the day Da brought home the twin-tub and put an end to having to hand-wash the terry nappies in a bucket of water. Da thought he was the best husband in the world when he presented Ma with such an advanced kitchen appliance. He was smiling so much I’m surprised his face didn’t crack. From then on, all Da’s presents had domestic themes. Now my Ma, like most women, was in favour of any household appliance that would make life easier for her, but when they were being given to her as gifts every birthday and Christmas, I think she wasn’t too happy.
That’s if some older kid wasn’t holding you down till you couldn’t breathe, which was a popular game then. Swimming was brilliant, except when my da came. I had the feeling that he was touching girls that I didn’t know in the pool and I was dead embarrassed. I could see what he was doing because he had been doing it to me for as long as I could remember. His roaming hands, touching where he was not supposed to touch. I hated his hands. Yet he did it in such a way that you weren’t marked; there were no scars, no pain at that stage and age.