Determinants of Trust between a Mother and Her Child: Reflections on My Childhood The author, a woman who now identifies as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, reflects on her experiences of trust issues with her mother, citing the impact of her father's death, a stepfather's inappropriate behavior, and overall adherence to patriarchal norms as factors. We were on a family holiday in Marbella when yet again it hit me: I cant trust my own mother ever. She offered to look after my sevenyearold daughter so I could visit the local market with my teenager. But when I got back to the villa, to my horror, Mum wasnt there. Instead, she had left Lily with her Spanish boyfriend, someone Id only met a handful of times. Even worse, this was despite me repeatedly telling Mum not to leave Lily alone with him. Aged 48, I felt a familiar surge of rage coursing through my body.Yet again, she had ignored my wishes. Any good parent would be riled by this. It goes against every basic safeguarding rule to leave a child alone with someone you barely know, in particular a man. There are many mothers who dont even trust their offspring with male carers in a professional setting such as a nursery.But my fury was driven by far more than a single blip. It stemmed from my own childhood, when for five years from age seven to 12 I was regularly abused by a man my mother left me alone with (a fact she was fully aware of when she decided to leave Lily with a virtual stranger). Of course, the cleverest abusers arent strangers but those who hide in plain sight, and Roger, my socalled babysitter, was no exception.He was married to Clemmies, Mums best friend since she was 12. And I was to prove easy prey for him. For five years from age seven to 12, I was regularly abused by a man my mother left me alone with. As a little girl I was naturally shy and lacking in confidence.But the biggest blow happened when, not long after I turned six, my lovely father died of a sudden heart attack and I lost my protector. Multiple studies show that girls without a father figure at home are statistically more likely to experience sexual abuse. My mother coped with her grief by frantically filling her diary, signing up for everything from ballroom dancing classes to a selfimprovement group.Within months of Dad dying, she was out three or four nights a week so a string of babysitters was needed. It was then that Roger saw his opportunity. Mum would ask Clemmie to come over and babysit, but often Roger would appear at our front door instead, just as Mum was dashing out, so it was too late to make other arrangements.He always had a plausible excuse Clemmie had a headache, cooking dinner or unexpectedly had to help a neighbour. It seems strange that he managed to engineer this with his wife, especially since she was mother to a son just a few years older than me, but he was a domineering man so I suspect she had no say. I loved Clemmie and felt safe with her.But there was something about Roger a short but imposing 40yearold that made me uneasy. I felt uncomfortable with the intense way he looked at me. Indeed, as soon as the front door closed, Roger would turn all his attention in my direction. Come and sit on my lap and pretend to be my girlfriend, hed say, his reassuring fatherly tone at odds with his request.In those days, children did as they were told. And girls like me bereft and with low selfesteem always complied. His request was also confusing. On one hand, I knew that little girls like me werent meant to be girlfriends of grown men, yet sitting on someone elses lap was the kind of thing you might do with a dad.I missed my own so much that I craved physical contact from a father figure, but this definitely didnt feel right. Sometimes, Id only be on Rogers lap for ten minutes, sometimes half an hour. I was always anxious to get off, but Id also been told to be polite to adults and didnt want to offend him. In classic grooming style, Roger told me it was our little secret and I did as I was told.With hindsight, I also think Roger deliberately made his request sound pretty innocent so that if I ever told anyone, he could pass it off as me getting the wrong idea. While much of what happened is hazy, I remember some of these incidents vividly, and Rogers intention was clear. Take the time Mum dropped me off with Clemmie for the night only for it to turn out Clemmie was already on her way out herself.Yet again, the babysitting arrangements had gone wrong but this didnt ring any alarm bells for Mum, who disappeared with a cheery goodbye. The moment she was gone, Roger put on a Carry On film and asked me to climb on his lap to be his girlfriend. I remember the tightfitting brown trousers he wore that night. I was aware of him growing hard inside them, his erection straining against the material.The moment Mum was gone, Roger put on a Carry On film and asked me to climb on his lap to be his girlfriend. I recall him asking me to bounce up and down on his lap. I can t remember what happened next, but I think, hope and pray, thats as far as it went