'I was raped by my dad and brother'

Sarah Sidebottom's dad sexually abused her, repeatedly - then her brother started, too

- ANN CUSACK

Sitting up suddenly in bed, sweat running down my back, I took a deep breath. “You’re safe now, Sarah. It’s over,” I reminded myself. “This was just a flashback, a dream.” Yet it was vivid, so raw I couldn’t get back to sleep all night. I even had bruises down my legs, where I had tried to fight back, in my sleep, and defend myself.

I had carried my secret around for almost 50 years. Sometimes, I felt I’d never escape from the agony of my childhood. My earliest recollection, aged three and a half, was being lifted from my bed, by my father Arthur, and into his bed. I had a clear memory of a big, meaty hand, clamped over my mouth to stifle my screams. Then my father raped me.

For the next couple of years, at our home in Chard, Somerset, my memories were hazy and fragmented. But at six, my nightmare began again. Dad regularly sexually abused and raped me, usually in his bedroom. Every time my mother was out, he took the opportunity to swoop.

We had horses, in stables adjoining our home, and sometimes he’d say, “Come and help me feed the horses, Sarah.” In the stables, he’d sexually assault me. Sometimes, he used objects on me, once it was part of the handle of a spade. I was just a little girl, and I was in agony. I longed to confide in someone, but after the abuse, Dad always said, “If you tell anyone, I will shoot you. And I will shoot your mum. Do you understand?”

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

Wide-eyed and terrified, I nodded. I had seen his guns, usually kept in the garage but occasionally brought into the house. I believed he was capable of it. We moved around a lot too, so it was difficult for me to make lasting friendships, or for teachers and social workers to get to know me. I spent some time living with my grandmother – a temporary respite, until I was sent home again.