I am one of six children. This photo (below) is the only one I have of my siblings, though my youngest brother hadn't yet been born. Looking at the photo, it's easy to imagine I grew up as part of a warm and loving family – but the truth couldn't be more different.
My earliest memories are of the abuse my mother suffered at the hands of my father. From a very young age, when the violence would occur, I would climb out of a first-floor window, scale the drainpipe, run down the road to the local telephone box, dial 999 and then run home, fearful of what violence my father had inflicted on my mother.
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