A Kind of Hush Read Free

at least that someone understands. I have worked with kids almost struck dumb by their experiences and those who try everything, including crime, in an attempt to eradicate the feeling of being victimised. I've seen the effects that people like Stu's father and Gus have on these kids, the almost blind obedience and fear that has been  instilled in them, and I've heard many, many times those same kids fantasising about what they would like to do to their abusers.
    I've seen families ripped apart by abuse, hundreds of pregnancies every year are the result of unwanted attention upon a daughter by her father. Alison and Jen are real enough, just everyday stories on a helpline. The problem is that many of these kids, after disclosure, are placed in care. Their families often ostracise them for speaking out, and while in care many are exposed to further abuse. It's no wonder that many of them end up on the streets.
    I also needed to include something positive, something that none of these boys had. A father figure, someone who would care, someone who would tell them off if needed, someone who wouldn't judge. I needed that when I was a kid, and if I'm honest I needed someone like that before my trial. In came Chef, the father I always wanted. He was to show Stu another side of life, a caring, sharing side. It was intended to confuse the boy, it was intended to make him feel suspicious. Because that is exactly what these boys feel when they meet someone like Chef. No one is that good in their eyes, and it takes a very long time before they can learn to trust and accept true care. I considered having Chef fight for the rights of the boys, but decided against it because at the end of the day they have to help themselves. Recovery is often greatly enhanced by self-help.
    The original ending was a happy one - it didn't seem right. In reality, there are very few really happy endings, and my trial was still looming, so I didn't feel that happy.  I left it. I put the story to one side and decided to concentrate all my efforts on my trial.
    The day arrived. I'll not bore you with the day-to-day details, just suffice to say that it lasted for eight days, and I won resoundingly, a complete acquittal. So complete in fact that the jury it seems had made up its mind halfway through. This is confirmed by the statement read out to the court on behalf of the jury on the fourth day. It read, and I have to paraphrase here: 'In the unlikely event that we do find Mr Johnson guilty, would you please only fine him the sum of twenty pence.' I was truly stunned and deeply moved by them. My defence continued, and if I had felt up until then that I was alone the following days proved the exact opposite. People were queuing up to testify on my behalf. Policemen, lawyers, charity bosses and workers, an author, a TV presenter, and loads and loads of people that I had worked with or on behalf of. There were also sworn statements from colleagues and friends from America as well as the UK. I knew nothing of all of this, my solicitor thinking it best to wait until the day. I won.
    You know it's strange. All through the trial, and the lead up to the trial, I was on the front page of many of the tabloids. Now that I was acquitted, and obviously innocent, I was lucky if I got a mention buried inside the paper. No scandal you see, not newsworthy. It would have been nice if they had just given me one big splash, pronouncing my acquittal. After all I'd sold a few papers for them over the previous weeks. Maybe a splash could have saved the charity. But then again, that doesn't sell papers does it?
    Anyway, I could get on with my life. Not so easy. The  charity had gone, and I couldn't get it back. And I have to admit that with all of the hassle and threats that I, and my family, had experienced during that time I couldn't really be sure whether I wanted it back or not. I had learned, in the most complete way, that working with child abuse, and exposing abusers, is a very