and force it down Sarah’s throat in the bathroom once. Judith had learned Eunice’s tricks and would use them with the same force and ferocity.
When I had washing-up liquid or shampoo squirted down my throat it was difficult not to be sick. This, however, brought with it an even more vile punishment.
One day, we were lined up at the sink, waiting to have our mouths washed out as Eunice believed we’d all lied about something. Charlotte was left out of this, but I was behind Sarah, whose turn was next. I saw Eunice yank her head back and she must have administered a particularly large dollop because Sarah threw it up, leaving a pile of half-digested All-Bran and linseeds covered with washing-up liquid in the sink
Keeping hold of Sarahs hair, Eunice snapped, ‘Eat it.’
Sarah was shaking and crying helplessly, but Eunice didn’t care. We all watched as she got a spoon and lifted a mouthful of slop to Sarah’s quivering lips.
‘Eat it, or you’ll get worse.’
Crying silently, Sarah took the spoon’s contents and chewed, retching as she did so.
‘Swallow.’
Eunice was relentless as spoonful by spoonful, the mess in the sink was forced into Sarah’s mouth. She had to eat the lot.
I watched, horrified. I felt sick just seeing Sarah having to eat her vomit, knowing full well that I was next. How could I escape? Thomas was behind me and Charlotte watched, sniggering, from the other side of the room. There was no way I could run away from this ritual humiliation, but I vowed I wouldn’t be sick, no matter how ill Eunice made me feel. It was almost as if her vile treatment made me tougher in response. I decided that when it was my turn I would blank out my mind and try to keep it all down, no matter what. Watching the other kids suffer meant I soon learned to resolve not to throw up and to this day I cant bear being sick.
So what were the terrible lies that brought on this regular, daily punishment? It might have been doing a poo when I shouldn’t have (a terrible offence) which, if I lied about it, resulted in the washing-up-liquid treatment. It might be lying about watching a video we weren’t allowed to see or simply touching something I shouldn’t have – after all she was watching me all the time, and I wouldn’t necessarily know that I had done something wrong, until I was standing by the sink and that nozzle was heading towards my face.
The washing-up-liquid routine was a regular occurrence for all of us except Charlotte and Robert. It happened so many times I lost count. In fact, it’s left me with a total loathing of green or yellow washing-up liquid; even if I get just a whiff of the smell, I feel utterly sick. I now won’t buy either of these types, and choose fancy, expensive ones instead, only blue or other completely different colours.
Eunice not only had her eagle eye trained on all of us, making sure we all behaved as she wanted us to every minute of every day and even night, she also made us all watch and grass on each other: vigilance was her constant watchword.
Eunice read her Jehovah’s Witness Watchtower avidly and indeed, it was as though I was constantly being watched by her from her parental watchtower. It felt like being under the gaze of a pious Big Brother. Eunice watched us when we were indoors, then when we went out into the garden, and finally, even when we went to school, as my school’s grounds backed onto her house, so she could even watch me when I went out to play at break and dinner time. I would feel her eyes on me and would look up to find her staring at me fixedly from the window. I would instantly feel I’d done something wrong.
But sometimes when I was at school and peeked up at the bedroom window, I would sometimes see Sarah there, on the top bunk bed, peering out timidly at the playground. At first, I would wonder why she wasn’t downstairs at her lessons with Eunice and why she was in bed. Later, I would understand she was being punished, especially
When I had washing-up liquid or shampoo squirted down my throat it was difficult not to be sick. This, however, brought with it an even more vile punishment.
One day, we were lined up at the sink, waiting to have our mouths washed out as Eunice believed we’d all lied about something. Charlotte was left out of this, but I was behind Sarah, whose turn was next. I saw Eunice yank her head back and she must have administered a particularly large dollop because Sarah threw it up, leaving a pile of half-digested All-Bran and linseeds covered with washing-up liquid in the sink
Keeping hold of Sarahs hair, Eunice snapped, ‘Eat it.’
Sarah was shaking and crying helplessly, but Eunice didn’t care. We all watched as she got a spoon and lifted a mouthful of slop to Sarah’s quivering lips.
‘Eat it, or you’ll get worse.’
Crying silently, Sarah took the spoon’s contents and chewed, retching as she did so.
‘Swallow.’
Eunice was relentless as spoonful by spoonful, the mess in the sink was forced into Sarah’s mouth. She had to eat the lot.
I watched, horrified. I felt sick just seeing Sarah having to eat her vomit, knowing full well that I was next. How could I escape? Thomas was behind me and Charlotte watched, sniggering, from the other side of the room. There was no way I could run away from this ritual humiliation, but I vowed I wouldn’t be sick, no matter how ill Eunice made me feel. It was almost as if her vile treatment made me tougher in response. I decided that when it was my turn I would blank out my mind and try to keep it all down, no matter what. Watching the other kids suffer meant I soon learned to resolve not to throw up and to this day I cant bear being sick.
So what were the terrible lies that brought on this regular, daily punishment? It might have been doing a poo when I shouldn’t have (a terrible offence) which, if I lied about it, resulted in the washing-up-liquid treatment. It might be lying about watching a video we weren’t allowed to see or simply touching something I shouldn’t have – after all she was watching me all the time, and I wouldn’t necessarily know that I had done something wrong, until I was standing by the sink and that nozzle was heading towards my face.
The washing-up-liquid routine was a regular occurrence for all of us except Charlotte and Robert. It happened so many times I lost count. In fact, it’s left me with a total loathing of green or yellow washing-up liquid; even if I get just a whiff of the smell, I feel utterly sick. I now won’t buy either of these types, and choose fancy, expensive ones instead, only blue or other completely different colours.
Eunice not only had her eagle eye trained on all of us, making sure we all behaved as she wanted us to every minute of every day and even night, she also made us all watch and grass on each other: vigilance was her constant watchword.
Eunice read her Jehovah’s Witness Watchtower avidly and indeed, it was as though I was constantly being watched by her from her parental watchtower. It felt like being under the gaze of a pious Big Brother. Eunice watched us when we were indoors, then when we went out into the garden, and finally, even when we went to school, as my school’s grounds backed onto her house, so she could even watch me when I went out to play at break and dinner time. I would feel her eyes on me and would look up to find her staring at me fixedly from the window. I would instantly feel I’d done something wrong.
But sometimes when I was at school and peeked up at the bedroom window, I would sometimes see Sarah there, on the top bunk bed, peering out timidly at the playground. At first, I would wonder why she wasn’t downstairs at her lessons with Eunice and why she was in bed. Later, I would understand she was being punished, especially
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