SECRET SLAVE - Blink · 2017-07-03 · SECRET SLAVE 2 houses always look so warm and inviting, like my great-grandma’s used to be? I had always been happy living there with her,

SECRET SLAVE

Secret Slave.indd 1 10/11/2016 14:25


SECRET SLAVE

A n n a R u s t o nw i t h J a c q u i e B u t t r i s s

Kidnapped and abused for 13 years.

This is my story of survival.


Published by Blink Publishing3.25, The Plaza,535 Kings Road,Chelsea Harbour,

London, SW10 0SZ

www.blinkpublishing.co.uk

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Paperback – 9781911274100Ebook – 9781911274117

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or circulated in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,

without prior permission in writing of the publisher.

A CIP catalogue of this book is available from the British Library.

Typeset by seagulls.netPrinted and bound by Clays Ltd, St. Ives Plc

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Text copyright © Anna Ruston, 2016

Papers used by Blink Publishing are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes

conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently

overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.

Blink Publishing is an imprint of the Bonnier Publishing Groupwww.bonnierpublishing.co.uk


To Jamie, his mum and our four children


This book is a work of non-fiction, based on the life, experiences and recollections of Anna Ruston, who is using a pseudonym. Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect identity and privacy.


Contents

1. The Cleansing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 2. Punishment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 3. Seeking Solace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 4. The Boy in the Photo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 5. A Face on the Carpet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 6. Conversion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 7. Banished . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 8. Chicken Heads . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 9. Teetering on the Brink . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9410. A Gun to My Head . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10511. First Baby . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12012. Circumcision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13213. Trafficked . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14114. Double Act . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15215. Collapse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15916. Baby Machine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17217. Torture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18118. Hearing the Cracks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19119. Intensive Care . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20220. A Way Out? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21621. Drugs Raids . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22722. A Second Chance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237


23. Passport to Pakistan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24824. Desperate Measures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25825. The Last Hope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26726. Aftermath . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283

Epilogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311


1

CHAPTER 1

The Cleansing

‘Would you like to come and meet my family? My mother likes having visitors. She would love to meet a nice English girl like you.’ Malik’s friendly smile gave me a warm feeling. He was a stocky man, overweight, not good-looking and about twice my age, but he seemed kind, and I wasn’t doing anything special.

‘Well …’ I hesitated, looking across the taxi office towards Val, to see what she thought. But she was deep into a prickly phone conversation with someone, so I couldn’t interrupt.

‘It’s time for my break. I can drive you there now to say hello. We needn’t be away long.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, just a cup of tea with my mum?’

‘OK.’ I nodded. It was a bit claustrophobic in the taxi base, and smelt of the kebabs the drivers had been eating that evening, so I could do with some fresh air. I’d probably be back before Val even noticed.

Malik ushered me to his taxi and opened the front passenger door for me.

‘Where does your mum live?’ I asked, in a moment of uncertainty. I didn’t want to be away too long.

‘Not far, just a few streets away.’As we drove along, I looked out at all the lights in the

windows of houses that we passed. Why did other people’s


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houses always look so warm and inviting, like my great-grandma’s used to be? I had always been happy living there with her, until she died when I was ten. I had never even slept in a bed on my own until the night after she died. Now I didn’t really have a home. Rejected by my mother and abused by my violent father, I was a naive, unloved runaway, staying on Val’s sofa. She was kind to me, but nobody really cared or loved me, like my great-grandma used to do.

‘How was school today?’ Malik asked as we turned onto the ring road.

‘All right.’ I shrugged.‘What lessons did you have?’‘Lots of lessons, mostly boring ones,’ I sighed. ‘Art was

good.’‘Is art your favourite subject?’‘Not usually, but it was good today.’‘So, what subject do you like best?’‘Mmm …’ I wasn’t used to being asked about my day.

Having just turned 15, I was a typical teenager, so I wasn’t into conversations about school lessons. But Malik seemed to take a genuine interest in me. His smile warmed me at a time when I craved affection – that made me feel good.

‘I like gym,’ I said. ‘And dance.’He glanced at me with a grin. ‘I can see you have a good

body for dancing,’ he said. ‘In Pakistan, we love dancing – the women do some beautiful dances. Maybe my sister could teach you to dance the Sammi.’

‘Maybe …’ I nodded. ‘Are we nearly there?’


THE CLEANSING

3

‘Yes,’ he answered, turning into a side street. ‘Only two more minutes.’

Sure enough, two minutes later he pulled into the driveway of a large semi-detached house.

‘Here we are.’‘It’s a big house.’ I could see the dark outline against the

starry sky.‘Yes, it’s two houses made into one.’‘Do you live here too?’‘Yes, nearly all my family lives here. My mum, some of

my brothers, their wives and children, and my sister and her family too.’

‘Wow!’I couldn’t see much detail in the darkness, but there were

lights on in most of the windows. It looked a welcoming house.‘Come on.’ He led me to the front door. ‘Take your

shoes off.’‘Why?’‘Because we always take our shoes off when we go inside

the house.’‘What for?’‘To keep it clean, and because that’s our way.’ He smiled as

he unlaced his shoes. ‘Come and meet the family.’ I took my shoes off, left them next to his in the porch, and

stepped into the hallway. He put on some flip-flop sandals, but there was nothing for me so I walked barefoot.

He took me into a large living room with three long settees arranged as three sides of a square. On the fourth wall there was


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a gas fire and a hole built through the wall, with a badly fitting door that seemed to lead into the adjoining house, behind the fireplace. There were a lot of people, watching a tiny TV in the corner, showing a Pakistani film.

‘Come and sit down,’ he said, leading me to a settee. Several of the women got up to make space and went to the kitchen but an old lady sat still and gave me a half-smile. ‘This is my mother, Farhat Aziz.’ He pointed to me and said, ‘Anna.’

‘Hello,’ I said, sitting down next to Malik.Next, he turned to the men in the room. ‘And these are

my brothers.’They all smiled and looked pleased to see me.A sad-eyed young woman, about ten years older than me,

came in with a tray. ‘This is Muneeza. She is my brother Khalid’s first wife.’I gave her a smile as she passed me a cup of milky tea.‘Get some chapattis,’ Malik ordered her with a stern

expression. I hadn’t seen this side of him before. I had a moment’s hesitation: maybe I shouldn’t have come. But then Malik flashed a smile at me and I felt fine again. ‘I expect you’re hungry?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I nodded.Muneeza came back with a large plate of buttered chapattis.

They looked a bit different to the one I ate when Val and I had a takeaway a few days before.

‘They’re home-made,’ Malik explained, as if reading my thoughts.

‘Yes, it’s very good,’ I agreed.


THE CLEANSING

5

Just then, Muneeza brought a bowl of minced meat with a strange scent and put it down on the table in front of me, along with a bowl of oranges, cut into quarters. They all looked at me, so I took a spoonful of meat to taste. It stung my tongue, but I tried not to pull a face.

‘Do you like it?’ asked Malik. ‘It’s lamb with Punjabi spices.’I nodded my head. ‘Not bad.’ Malik and his brothers all laughed.I hadn’t realised how hungry I was, so I helped myself to

another chapatti, partly to take the taste of the spices away, and sucked an orange quarter, which tasted quite bitter to me, but I wasn’t really a fruit eater.

After I’d eaten, his mother, tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand anything she said. Her smile vanished and a look of contempt took its place. The brothers were talking amongst themselves, so I ate a third chapatti and fidgeted as the time passed.

‘I need to go to the toilet,’ I whispered to Malik.‘Muneeza,’ he called, then some strange words I didn’t

understand. ‘We speak Punjabi here,’ he explained. ‘Muneeza will show you to the bathroom.’

When I came out, Muneeza and another woman were waiting with a mop, some bleach and other cleaning things. They went straight in and scrubbed everything. To me this seemed rather a strange thing to do, but I had realised by now that this was a strange family – well, strange to me anyway.

‘Can we go now?’ I asked when I came back into the living room.


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SECRET SLAVE - Blink · 2017-07-03 · SECRET SLAVE 2 houses always look so warm and inviting, like my great-grandma’s used to be? I had always been happy living there with her,