Please, Daddy, No. Stuart Howarth
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Please, Daddy, No
Stuart Howarth
A BOY BETRAYED
WITH ANDREW CROFTS
HarperElement
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London SE1 9GF
The website address is: www.thorsonselement.com
and HarperElement are trademarks of HarperCollinsPublishers Limited
Published by HarperElement 2006
© Stuart Howarth 2006
Stuart Howarth asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
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Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2010 ISBN: 9780007279975
Version 2019-10-22
TO MY SISTERSHIRLEY ANNE HOWARTH
1 FEBRUARY 1965 – 8 FEBRUARY 1991AGED 26 YEARS
I miss you, ‘Shirl the Whirl’,and today I know that you escaped awayto peace and freedom.
I watch you dance in the summer meadows,running free and chasing butterflies.
Today I smile for us all –love you!
Table of Contents
Chapter Two Mum And The Bin Man
Chapter Four A More Private World
Chapter Five A Very Naughty Boy
Chapter Seven Just Messing Around
Chapter Eight The Man Of The House
Chapter Thirteen The Lump Hammer
Chapter Fourteen Forget Everything
Chapter Seventeen Did You Enjoy It?
Chapter Eighteen Guilty Or Not Guilty
Chapter Nineteen Pictures Of The Outside World
Chapter Twenty A New Father Figure
There are thousands of kids out there, just like me, who suffer abuse on a daily basis. You can turn a blind eye and consider this too nasty to read about, or you can take a courageous step forward and share a few moments from my world. We can only bring about change by doing something positive and being prepared to listen. This is my story.
I know when I set out from Mum’s pub that evening, 20 August 2000, I intended to go to pick up my girlfriend, Tracey, from her house. I know I intended to because otherwise I would never have taken the road I did. If I had set out with the intention of driving back to Wales I would have taken a more direct route.
Something happened inside my head between leaving Mum’s and getting to Tracey’s place, which stopped me from turning off the road. I just kept on going west. I know I didn’t have any set plan in my head; I just wanted a lot of answers to a lot of questions. Why had he done the things he’d done to me and the girls? Did he still love me? Was he sorry for what he’d done to the family? Was he really my dad or not?
A good few miles down the road, when it dawned on me where I was heading, I phoned Tracey. ‘I need to sort this thing,’ I told her. ‘I need