Stace Don, 36, was taken into foster care as a toddler after being neglected by her parents. For five years, she lived an idyllic life, believing her foster parents were her real parents. But a chance encounter with her biological father, Nigel Taylor, shattered her happiness, leading to a shocking life of lies and abuse. Stace fell pregnant to him aged 18 and, despite her loathing for her father, was determined to keep her baby…
Standing at the window, behind the safety of the curtain, I scanned the street anxiously. “Who are you looking for Mummy?” asked my daughter, Kadie. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing,” I smiled. How could I tell Kadie I was terrified of my own father finding out where we lived? Because my father was her biological father too. And weighing heavy on my heart was the knowledge that one day, when she was older, I’d have to tell her the truth.“Honestly, everything’s fine,” I insisted, slipping my arm around her. But I didn’t take my eyes off the window.
Until the age of seven, I’d led a perfectly normal life, living with my family in Stockport, Cheshire. And then one day, at the park, I met a strange man who claimed he was my father.
“Hello Lou-Lou, I’m your dad,” he said. I was confused. Lou was my middle name, so how did he know that?
Life-changing news
A few days after meeting the man, a social worker explained I had been taken away from my birth parents, aged two. The family I lived with now were my foster parents. The man from the park, Nigel Taylor, was my biological father. Numb with shock, I realised my life was about to change.
Aged 10, I was sent back to live with my biological mum and her boyfriend. But that didn’t work out and, aged 13, she sent me to live with my father.
I was excited by the idea of being with my real dad; I thought it would be nice to spend time with him. But he had a nasty temper.
Instead of going to school, he set me lists of household chores. And if my cleaning wasn’t to standard, he hit me. One day, he beat me so hard I couldn’t walk.
I went back to mum’s briefly but more than anything, I longed to go back to my foster family. I missed them all so much. All through my childhood, I felt unloved. Nobody wanted me around.
Towards the end of 2006, Taylor called. By now, I was at college, studying social care.
“Why not spend Christmas with me, Lou-Lou?” he asked. “I’ve got a new partner and a baby on the way. I’ve completely changed. I’ve done anger management classes.”
At first, I wasn’t sure. Yet I wanted so much to believe him. Besides, I had nowhere else to go for the holidays.
“OK,” I agreed. I arrived a few days before Christmas. As I was unpacking, Dad asked for my return ticket. I handed it over, thinking he wanted to keep it safe. Instead, he ripped it into shreds.
I tried not to worry, but then Dad took my debit card, so I had no money. New Year came, and it was time for me to go back home.
“You belong here,” he told me. This is your home now.”
I was expected to cook and clean. In the evenings, Dad made me do army fitness routines. If I paused for a rest, he punched me in the stomach.
Then, it got worse. On a drive one day, he sexually assaulted me. It became a regular pattern. He’d creep up on me, while I was at the sink, and kiss the back of my neck. I pleaded with him to stop but every time I protested, he’d lose his temper. “You want me to be nice, don’t you?” he asked. “This is part of it.”
Living in terror
I was repulsed, yet too afraid to stand up to him. One night, as I sobbed in my bedroom, he threw packets of pills at me.
He said, “Do us a favour and take an overdose.”
On the eve of my 18th birthday, in April 2007, Dad flew into a rage over nothing. He threw me onto the sofa, and I thought he was going to hit me. Instead, he forced himself on me. Afterwards, I lay for hours, unable to move. He had all but destroyed me.
In June, I missed a period. I could barely believe it when the pregnancy test was positive. Only now did I realise what he had done.
Yet, with a new life inside me came a new purpose. I had not been able to protect myself, but I was determined to protect my baby.
“You have to get rid of it,” Dad demanded.
“No!” I protested. “I’m having this baby, and you can’t stop me.” In the end, Dad agreed this was the best solution, as long as I promised never to tell anyone he was the father.
I also had to promise that, after the baby was born, I’d live with him. Knowing it wouldn’t happen, I agreed, desperate to escape.
I moved back in with my mother and my baby girl, Kadie, was born in February 2008. From the moment I held her, I was overcome with love.
I realised it didn’t matter where she had come from. She was mine. I settled down to life as a single mum and tried to block out the past. But I was constantly worried that Taylor might track me down.
Taking a stand
When Kadie was two, I decided I couldn’t stay silent any longer. I had always feared that Taylor would kill me if I spoke out. But I realised I had no choice.
I went to the police and DNA tests proved he was Kadie’s father. Taylor was jailed for seven years in 2011 after admitting sexual activity with a child family member. He was ordered to sign the sexual offenders’ register and to stay away from us. As Kadie has
grown up, I’ve told her about her biological father.
I’ve been honest because I have lived with lies and deceit all my life and I want it to stop right here. She and I have an incredible bond.
At the worst time of my life, she was the best gift ever.
My Girl by Stace Don (Mirror Books, £9.99) is available from January 30