TRUE LIFE
No one could protect me from my demon dad Julieanne Boyle, 52, Belfast
Dressing my Barbie in a sparkly dress, I listened to my dad at the door. ‘No bother,’ he smiled at our neighbour.
It was summer 1978 and Dad, William, then 43, or Billy as he was known, was an engineer in a factory.
Was often being called on to fix broken washing machines and cars.
He’d happily oblige, always so friendly. But I knew a different side.
Now, the minute he shut the door, he ordered Mum, Eileen, then 36, about in the kitchen, effing and blinding.
Age 6, I was terrified of Dad, but unlike my older sister, Alison, then 12, I seemed to escape his wrath.
‘My blue-eyed girl,’ he’d call me, hot beer breath on my face as he pulled me onto his knee.
One day in 1981, he stood at the foot of the stairs and whistled through his teeth. My stomach dropped. This meant trouble. ‘Who took my beers?’ he boomed, as me and Alison, then 14, stood shaking. ‘You!’ Dad barked, dragging Alison away. The last straw for Mum. ‘Pack your bags,’ she told us, taking us to live with our granny, Molly, then 80. Dad wouldn’t leave us alone, though.
‘You’ll never get rid of me,’ he said, turning up on his motorbike one afternoon.
‘There’s pure evil running through that man,’ Granny said as he finally drove off.
After that, he’d turn up every now and then but I didn’t see him much.
Two years on, in February 1983, Dad got a puppy called Blackie. Then 11, I begged Dad to let me stay over, so I could play with Blackie.
So one Friday night, while Dad was out at the pub, I slept in my sister’s old room, the door wide open for Blackie to come and go.
Only, that night I was woken by Dad climbing into bed with me.
I stared at the wall as he forced himself on me, the smell of beer and aftershave suffocating as he raped me.
Afterwards, he left without a word.
I stared at the wall as Dad forced himself on me
I lay awake, in pain and traumatised. The next morning Dad took me shopping for s
