Chapter 1: Her Early Life - Christine Magill

She was born in the late 1940s to a poor family, when I say poor, I mean that in every sense of the word. She was not a planned or wanted child and in truth, her mother wasn’t certain who her father was. Definitely not her husband as he was too drunk most nights to even bother with her or anyone. A woman of her age still had needs and she was a cheap and easy lay for any of the local men who plied her with drink and had a silver tongue. Most of her sexual escapades happened on her way home from the local ‘grog shop’. Not your licensed hotel, oh no, the local grog shop was where you went to drink after the pubs had closed.

Cheap gin was her favourite tipple, and after 6 or more, you whispered into her ear and then, you offered to see her home safely. Which meant you took her down past the old stables, and up against the stable wall you got your wicked way. On more than one occasion she was accompanied by two or three of the local lads, who each took their turn. Hence Christine Magill was conceived in the September and came into this world on the 6th of June 1949. Unwanted, unloved but healthy, with ten fingers and ten toes, so her mother considered her a normal child. No hospital birth just the local midwife, or the old girl they called the midwife.

In her early years, before she went to school, there were no toys in the house, and her brothers and sisters looked after her. She knew no laughter, just a very loud environment, swearing and shouting were the norm. A child raised like that doesn’t know it isn’t normal, to them this is how the world is. When her mother wasn’t at home, she knew she was safe from any beatings. She lost her innocence long before she should have.

Watching her sisters play with each other, kissing and cuddling but never being included, and seeing strangers in the house at all times of the day and night, was her normal life. She saw her brothers and sister disappear behind closed doors only to reappear a short time later smiling and laughing. She didn’t know what went on behind the closed doors, but she listened in, along with her other siblings, and she heard the noises, the giggling and ooohhhs and aaaahhhhhs. She heard the beatings and the crying.

No one thought it strange that she was always at home and not at school, the fact was her birth was never registered, and she was actually a non-person. No paperwork ever existed for her.

Her life of crime started before her 8th birthday when she was shown how to steal from the local greengrocer, how to pretend to cry and keep the shop owner distracted while her brothers and sisters stole from the fruit trays at the front of the shop on the high street.

The family was well known for their shenanigans. Her brothers were bullies and learned to fight and defend themselves from their mum and the many ‘Uncles’ that were about at the time. Little Christine being the youngest and smallest learned how to protect herself by making allies with one or the other older bigger, stronger brothers. She on more than one occasion started a fight only to hide behind a bigger brother for protection. Something she did all her life. She learned how to manipulate people and situations, how to use words and not her fists, and how to outwit the not-so-smart ones. Not that she was intelligent but she was streetwise and was good looking.

It was before she became a woman that her mother introduced her to what would become another part of her life. At the request of one of those strangers, she was allowed to go in behind the closed door with her mother and a stranger.

Her brothers and sisters were all laughing and sniggering behind their hands which they held over their mouths so as not to be heard. She had no idea of what to do and sat on the edge of the bed as her mother and the stranger wrestled with each other and slowly became naked. She had no idea what they were doing and she looked on until she felt a hand reach out for her and took her under the covers. The hands of both the stranger and her mother ran over her young body, it made her feel good and for the first time, she heard her mother tell the stranger not to put his ‘thing’ in her.

“We can’t afford to feed the ones we’ve got, let alone any more little bastards.” She told him, then she laughed as she moaned and said “Oh that’s nice, harder now, do me harder”.

Christine had no idea what they were doing but she saw the look on their faces as she felt a hand between her legs, not sure who it was or what to do, she just opened them and felt her womanly core being rubbed. She closed her eyes and laid back as she felt her knickers being removed, she eased her backside off the dirty bed linen and she felt someone kissing her inner thighs. The stranger’s face was next to hers as she felt the warmness on her hairless pee-pee.

Before long she felt a warm sensation between her legs and she instinctively thrust her hips towards the warmth of a tongue. She had no idea why it felt so good but feel good it did and before too long she thought she had wet herself. But her mother and her friend laughed and cried out “Yes oh, fucking YES.” She was lying in the bed her panties removed and the stranger kissed her on the mouth as she felt his rough hand on her private parts. She moaned and cried out once more. Then shook again and again. She never did feel his ‘thing’ inside of her.

They lived in a council flat which was too small by half, and she shared a bed with one of her sisters and even her brothers, she never let the boys put their ‘thing’ into her, but she did learn how to make her brothers or any boy happy with her hand and or mouth. She soon learned that some men folk were more than happy to give her a ten shilling note for a quick hand job after the pubs had closed. So hanging around the dark alleyways after closing time turned out to be a very profitable activity for her and her sisters.

One Friday night when she was on her knees to a rather mature and drunk man, who grabbed her by her hair and was about to punch her when one of her sisters came by and put a knife to his throat and warned him, “Don’t you fucking dare hit her, I will cut you into thin pieces and feed you to the fucking pigs, just test me, you bastard.”

Christine stopped her sucking and demanded the five quid he had promised her, which was way over the top, but a promise is a promise. She held out her hand for payment as her sister pushed the knife firmly into his throat, a trickle of blood, appeared on the blade.

“I don’t have five quid, it was the booze talking, I’ll give you a quid, OK,” The drunken old man said.

“You said a fiver, so a fiver it is,” Christine replied, “We’ll take a quid now and next week it is another quid, and so on until you’re paid up. Then it’s ten bob on top for fucking us about.”

Christine’s sister, looked at him in the dark alleyway, and said, “I know you don’t I? You’re Albert Simpson’s old man, so I know where to find you if you fuck us about. It won’t be me coming round to see you it will be me big brother, and he will take no shit from you. Get my meaning?”

The old man took out his wallet and went to hand over a one-pound note when Christine snatched the wallet from his hands and opened it.

“You cheeky old bugger, you have over thirty quid in here, you fucking slimy prick,” She took a ten-pound note from his wallet and said to him that they were settled, but if he tries anything like that again she will set her big brothers onto him. They will give him a right seeing too.

The two girls saw him grab his wallet and watched as he disappeared around the corner. They both burst into laughter and told each other how fucking scared they were. They linked arms and wandered off back towards the pub to see if any other later stragglers were about.

They hung around but no one came along and nothing was happening, it was then that her sister took her by the hand and started walking “Where we going Shelia?” Asked Christine.

To visit some friends, I need a stiff drink after that.

They walked hand in hand singing and laughing swinging their arms and skipping along. Little girls at heart. Shelia took her to a place that was in a poorly lit street, the houses were even more run down than the council flat they lived in. The gardens were overgrown, and very few of the houses had any lights showing. Shelia took hold of Christine’s hand and knocked twice, then again three times. They waited, Shelia smiled at Christine and told her that this was normal, that they were being checked out.