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felt right. We were babysitting at the time for my younger cousins. I remember feeling a bit nervous although Martin didn’t seem to be. He was very considerate and there were lots of cuddles afterwards.
    Since finding out about the abuse, close friends have asked why it didn’t affect my attitude towards sex and my response is simply that I wasn’t going to be a victim: the abuse was not going to affect my life in any way. In any case, I did not view what John had done to me as sex in the same way as what I did with my boyfriend. Perhaps it was my ability to distance myself and even to pretend that I had left that person behind but I did not equate the loving, fun, enjoyable moments with Martin as being on a par with the cruelty and abuse that John inflicted upon me as a young girl.
    Eighteen months into our relationship Martin and I were engaged. The interesting thing here is that there wasn’t really any discussion about what it meant. It just seemed like the logical next thing to do. If I am being truthful, I probably wasn’t thinking beyond having a big party at the Biggin Hill Flying Club. By this point, Mum seemed fine with it all but Dad was busy trying to persuade me not to get married. He thought that marriage at such a young age would be a disaster and that I would finish up stuck in the suburbs with five children and no life. Ultimately his intervention was not required because ourcards were already stacked. Martin’s mother was an alcoholic, who was often beaten up by her husband. One night we were walking home to Martin’s house after a party and we had a huge row. He punched me in the face and I landed in the bushes in someone’s garden. I ended the relationship then and there, a move which I now think shows that I was growing in confidence. Sure I’ve had my dramas but there are things that I will not accept at any cost and physical violence is one of them. Nobody should have to put up with it or excuse it.
    I was now eighteen and getting more confident about meeting men. One night at the Sport Air Club in Biggin Hill I spotted this very handsome man so I went over to talk to him. I was still at school and he was older than me, very charismatic and good-looking. His name was Tony. He was ambitious, hard-working and already doing very well for himself. He worked for De Beers as a diamond buyer and had his own house in Rochester. He was definitely in the ‘good catch’ category and a complete contrast to either Adam or Martin. We immediately hit it off; in fact, he introduced me to his parents not long after we’d met. Tony’s mum turned out to be Dorothy, the warm, caring dinner lady from Biggin Hill Primary School. I have to say it was very strange to see her again and we were both taken aback by the moment. Thankfully we didn’t discuss my awkward schooldays although Dorothy and I did get around to it much later. I also got on well with Tony’s father,Derek. He was Anglo-Indian and reminded me of Omar Sharif and was the very model of a charming gentleman.
    It was 1979. I wasn’t interested in taking up the trainee manager position they’d just offered me at Royal Doulton. Instead I decided to ask my father if I could gain some work experience in his business, then known as Gold Star Publications. Dad’s voice said yes but his body language suggested he wasn’t too sure.
    Gold Star was the publishing arm of the family business which also comprised Ann Summers, then just a couple of shops. Part of Gold Star’s business was in top-shelf adult magazines, a business we have recently sold. I have never had a problem with them: my attitude is if you want it, buy it; if you don’t, then don’t buy it. There is absolutely no point wasting energy complaining about things you can avoid, whether it’s magazines or television shows, something that some people seem to do. The late 1970s and early 1980s were interesting times at Gold Star because we were raided by police on average every eighteen