Gypsy Jane - I've Been Shot Four Times and Served Three Prison Terms?This is the Incredible Story of Read Free

like that for a girl. Not big and strong, just prepared to have a go. Anyway, around came their mum and dad and my mum put the fear of God into them. It got a bit physical and by the time they left they were terrified. Nobody ever complained about any of us again.
    It didn’t matter that money was scarce because we always ate well. Every night we had a proper cooked dinner and I’ve never known what it was to be hungry. There was always plenty of food on our table. Yet Mum was turning more and more to drink and that was when things started to get difficult for me. Brandy was her tipple and she couldn’t get enough of it. To be honest, ever since I can remember she was drunk and, believe me, growing up in a house with a drunk who didn’t mind giving me a slap made life hard. Mum was a violent drunk, I think it’s fair to say. At least, that is what she became.
    I was just a kid and I had a mum who was eventually drunk 24/7. She would come and beat me in the night and throw me out in the street. I’d sleep outside on the stairs in the flats opposite our house until the morning. As the years went by, I was sleeping under the flats more frequently, yet Mum was always sorry in the morning. It was tough on me. I thought Mum hated me and she was always apologetic the next day. But by dinner time she was back to being nasty and by night time she was well drunk and started getting violent again and I’d be back under the flats after getting a good hiding. Eventually, it didn’t bother me. I was thinking I’d rather be there instead of being in the house with her.
    There wasn’t much Dad could do at the time about Mum’s behaviour. Dad didn’t know the half of what was going on with me and Mum. He would have killed her if he had known she was throwing me outin the night. But I couldn’t tell him and cause more rows. She wouldn’t do it until everyone was in bed. She would be sitting in the kitchen drinking until she wasn’t herself anymore. Then some nasty violent person in a drunken rage took over. She would come for me. Sometimes I was awake and made out I was asleep, hoping she would leave me alone, but the drink just wouldn’t let her.
    Since Shell was her favourite and John was just John, all her bad temper and violence, was directed at me. But Mum couldn’t handle me and, boy, did I bring the nutty side out in her. I didn’t get on with my sister either. Shell was Miss prim and proper and didn’t have a hair out of place. Unlike me, she was always immaculate and I suppose she was embarrassed about the way I was. My rough-and-tumble behaviour got too much for her and she didn’t want me in her room. This was when I was eight, long before I ended up sleeping outdoors. Mum told me I had to move downstairs and sleep on the sofa. Mum said Shell needed her own room.
    I didn’t like sleeping downstairs as I was afraid of the dark and, being downstairs, I felt I was all on my own. I would put my head under the covers and wait for morning. I was too afraid to even peek my head back out. I was scared to death, to be honest. I started to resent Shell and Mum. So one day, when Mum was taking a nap while her hair was in rollers, I got the scissors and I cut every roller off her head. She had a big night out with Dad planned and, when she woke up, Igot the beating of my life. I denied everything, obviously, but being the only other person in the house at the time – and the only one nutty enough to do it in the first place – there was no way out. But that was one beating I took on the chin. It was worth it. Mum was a bit of a dolly bird and she had to wear a wig for three months after that. And she cried like a baby. It was a sign of just how far I was prepared to go. I didn’t have any limits and next on my list was Shell.
    She had won a goldfish at the fair. She only had it a couple of days and I wasn’t even allowed to look at it because we weren’t getting on. So I waited until Mum and Shell were at the other end