Mummy, Come Home: The True Story of a Mother Kidnapped and Torn from Her Children

‘In hospital,’ Janna exclaimed, her eyes widening in excitement.

‘But why?’

‘He got beaten up. Some men arrived earlier to see him and the next thing I knew Sergey was staggering out of the summer kitchen covered in blood. Barely walking. Half dead.’

I felt sick as I stared at Janna. Finally Sergey knew what it was like to be beaten but, although I knew I should be happy, all I felt was fear. What had he done now? Would those men come back for me?

It was too late to go to the hospital that night but I told Marina I wouldn’t be going into work when she came to pick me up the next morning and I arrived at the hospital to find Sergey lying in bed. His lip was split, his jaw was black and he’d bruised his kidneys.

The muscles in his face twitched as he looked at me.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Well, you should know.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Didn’t you send them?’

‘Who?’

‘Your fucking Muslim lovers,’ Sergey spat. ‘The ones who did this to me. Men from the café you love so much.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I whispered. ‘Of course I didn’t send anyone. I knew nothing about it.’

‘Well, we’ll see about that won’t we? I’ll be home soon and then we’ll know the truth about your customers.’

How could that be true? I didn’t believe him. At work, I said to Aziz, ‘My husband seems to think you sent some men to beat him up. Is he crazy?’

Aziz looked me straight in the eye. ‘No, Oxana, he’s right. I sent my men to teach your husband a lesson in respect. I will not tolerate him treating you that way, or making his scandalous accusations against my good name. Now he knows we’re watching him and if he touches you then all you’ll need to do is let us know.’

I gasped. So it was true! But this was terrible. Rage coursed through me. ‘And then what?’ I screamed. ‘Are you going to feed my baby every day, look after him, put money on the table when you’ve killed my husband?’

Aziz frowned and said nothing.

‘No? So how will I live? How will my baby eat without a man to bring home money or someone to look after my child while I work for you? Can’t you see what you’ve done? I can never come back here now, and my husband will probably kill me for it.’

‘No, Oxana, you’re wrong. Stay here and you’ll be safe. I promise.’

‘I can’t.’ Shaking with anger, I turned around and slammed out of the café. Aziz might have thought he was protecting me but this wasn’t an end—it was only just the beginning. I was sure of just one thing. The moment we were alone Sergey would have his revenge.

It was like waiting for a bomb to go off when Sergey came home after a week in the hospital. I didn’t know what would trigger the explosion but knew it would come soon and so I became more and more scared when he was silent. It was as if nothing had ever happened and neither of us mentioned Aziz or the café. But the relief I felt each night when I went to sleep without a beating was replaced by fear as the waiting started once again the next morning.

I missed working at the café—the money I’d earned, the food we’d eaten, the friends I’d made—but couldn’t go back. My door into a new world had slammed shut and I was as trapped as ever on the wrong side. I still saw Marina and she brought me bits of money and food whenever she could but we didn’t talk about what had happened. Our lives were just too different and I wanted to forget mine when I was with her.

But as days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if Aziz had been right after all. I’d always known Sergey was scared of other men and maybe fear of what might happen again was enough to keep him away from me. I wasn’t sure but, like an actress playing a role, I gave him sex when he wanted, didn’t say a word when he went out drinking and never mentioned getting a job again. Things went back to how they always had been and, even though I couldn’t believe that Sergey would forget so easily, I began hoping he might leave me alone.

A couple of weeks after he got back from hospital we finally moved from the summer kitchen into the main house with Sergey’s sister Ira and her husband Alex. The tenants had left and Ira had decorated the house ready for us. I liked her. She and Alex worked on a market stall selling wedding dresses and, although they couldn’t have children of their own, had taken in their niece Vica when her mother had committed suicide.

They had a good life and it was almost like being part of a family again. Our new home might not have had running water or an inside toilet, but it had a proper corrugated iron roof, white walls and maroon floorboards. There was also a living room where Vica slept and two bedrooms—one for Ira and Alex and another for Sergey, Sasha and me. But although I enjoyed sitting together with Ira in the evenings, I still wasn’t sure whether I could really trust her or not. She was Sergey’s sister after all, even if she didn’t seem to like him much. But she was also kind—she gave Sasha and me food whenever she could and looked after her niece Vica when she could easily have put her into an orphanage just as I had done with Pasha.

I hadn’t forgotten my little Pasha, of course. I thought of him constantly but even though I longed to see and hold him, I was too scared to go the orphanage. I was consumed with guilt for leaving him there, and terrified of what he might be suffering. I couldn’t bear to think about his tiny body undergoing an operation and dreaded to think of how he might look at me when I visited him. So I was a coward and, despite my longing, I did not go.

He’s better where he is, I told myself firmly. And he’ll be coming home when his six months at the orphanage are up, and then I’ll be a better mother to him.

Soon after Pasha left, I discovered I was pregnant again. I could not refuse my husband what he wanted and did not have the money for contraception. But even though I worried about feeding another mouth, I was also happy. I just knew everything would be different this time: I would be a good mother and this baby would be easy and healthy where Pasha had been sick and unhappy. I would prove that I could be a good mother and, when Pasha came home, he would have a new baby brother or sister to love.

Sergey didn’t say much about it when I told him but I didn’t care as long as he left me alone. I had done what he wanted—given Pasha to the orphanage and stopped working—and so he seemed happier now. All I could do was pray that he would continue to leave me alone.

This time though, God wouldn’t hear my prayers.

Chapter Seven (#ufa4a3453-0c84-5275-a7b4-23fcfcc44ac9)

A couple of months later Sergey asked me to go out with him one night. As darkness fell we walked down a dirt road towards a stone house with a big metal door.

We walked inside and into a dirty room with an old sofa and bed in it. In the half light, I could see four men and two girls listening to music. They all seemed drunk.

Sergey immediately started chatting but I said nothing as I sat down. The girls looked as if they were going to pass out and soon one of the men had pulled them to their feet.

‘We’re going,’ he said and they left.

Soon Sergey got up as well.

‘I’ve got some business,’ he told me. ‘I won’t be long.’

Now I was alone with two men—one had dark hair and was tall and slim, while the other was shorter and a little fatter.

‘So how are you?’ the dark man asked. ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘No thanks,’ I told him. ‘I’ll have to leave soon.’

He walked over to the sofa and sat down next to me. ‘Come on, have one,’ he said in a sing-song voice.

‘No, thanks,’ I said as I felt his arm move around my shoulders. I pushed him away.

‘Just a friendly hug,’ he laughed as he stood up and walked over to the table where he sat down again and started rolling cannabis into a cigarette. I knew what it was because Sergey sometimes smoked it. The smell was horrible.

I looked about anxiously. Where was Sergey? He had been gone so long, was probably getting drunk somewhere. I’d had enough. I wanted to leave.

The fat man got off his chair as I stood up. ‘Where are you going?’ he cried.

‘Home.’

‘No, no. Don’t go.’

The dark man got up and walked towards me. ‘No, don’t,’ he said. ‘We’re just getting started.’

‘But I’ve got to,’ I replied and turned away. Suddenly an arm twisted around my throat from behind. ‘Let me go!’ I cried.