We had to get up at five in the morning. Waking up before dawn took some adjusting to. Hosea’s boys would milk the cows, collect the eggs from the chickens, feed the goats and horses, and clean out the stables. In the meantime, I was given the job of making breakfast, and soon lunch and dinner for up to forty-five people. I was often on my own in the kitchen and struggled to lift the pots and pans, which were industrial size. I also received a few cuts and burns, though thankfully nothing too serious. I followed recipe books and experimented on my own. I made pasta salads, stews, and roasted heart and beef in the oven.
Apart from Hosea’s two daughters, I was the only other pre-teen girl. I found out that the boys had regular dates with the adult women there, but I was not prepared for when I walked in on Aaron, who was thirteen, having sex with Crystal, their teen shepherdess, on her bed. Embarrassed and disturbed, I quickly closed the door. The boys rivalled for my attention, and constantly teased and badgered me for sex. I was appalled by their behaviour. They made holes in the bathroom walls so they could spy on me. They called me prudish and stuck up. I didn’t care. What little natural curiosity I had about sex had turned to disgust, and I made it clear that I was not interested.
I’ll never forget one morning when David came into the kitchen while I was preparing lunch and asked me, ‘Do girls get horny?’
‘How dare you ask me that,’ I snapped. ‘Of course they don’t.’ I had no idea that girls could want sex or that it could be a pleasurable experience. I stormed off in a huff, while he just laughed.
Everything we read still emphasized sex. A new book was published for teens and pre-teens, called The Basic Training Handbook. In it I read about my friend Armi and the teens in Grandpa’s Home, who had gone through a training programme led by Sarah Davidito and Maria. The strict discipline, corrections, date schedules and confessions I read about made me glad that I had not been invited.
During the week, Dad worked with Jeremy Spencer on Life with Grandpa. But on Freeday, we would go out together for walks by the beach. He also taught me to ride a bicycle by holding on to the back of my bike and running alongside me. I fell and cut my leg and knee quite badly – I still have the scars – but he pushed me on even when I got discouraged and almost gave up. It took two days of determination on both our parts, but soon I could pedal off without wobbling. I was beginning to enjoy living with my father for the first time in two years. But after only three months he was unexpectedly summoned back to World Services. When he told me the news, I felt hollow.
‘Oh no! But Dad – why?’
‘I’m going on my own with Jeremy,’ he said, despondently. ‘You and Julie have to stay here – but it won’t be for long, I promise sweetie.’
‘Dad, you know you can’t promise anything,’ I said despondently.
We spent our last day together at a hotel in town. Macau was a strange mixture of brash excitement – like Hong Kong, which lay a few miles away across the gulf – and antiquity – its old brick buildings reflecting its history as a Portuguese colony dating back to the early seventeenth century. I was happy for the moment, but sad that we were to be parted so soon.
Eating lunch at a small café table in a cobbled square, I told Dad what was on my mind. ‘I don’t want to stay here without you. I hate Hosea,’ I burst out. ‘He scares me.’
‘Oh sweetie–’ he broke off and looked down, despondent. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
After lunch, we had a siesta in the hotel room. When I woke up, Dad was not in the room. I heard noises coming from the bathroom, and opened the door a crack. Dad’s head was buried in his arms and he was sobbing. I had never seen him cry so hard. I did not want to embarrass him so I crept back to the room and lay back down on the bed. Somehow it made me feel better to see him cry. At least I knew that leaving us hurt him too.
I don’t know if it was Dad’s doing, but a month later, Juliana and I were escorted back to the Philippines to what was now called Marianne’s Home. A lot had happened during the time I had been away. Paul and Marianne had separated, and Paul had been given a new job as national area shepherd for the Philippines. Marianne’s Home had a new mission to Flirty Fish and convert the officers in the Filipino military. No task seemed too big or too outrageous; after all, Jesus was on their side. Mo was adept at using women and sex to influence men in position of power and government.
The best part of moving back to Marianne’s Home was finding Armi there. I had missed her, and being with her again gave me a sense of familiarity. I was also eager to hear about what it was like at the King’s House, but she had been sworn to secrecy and could not tell me much. I did notice, however, that she had a gold ring on her finger.
‘Where did you get that?’ I asked, curious. She twisted the ring nervously as she shared her secret with me.
‘Grandpa gave it to me. It’s a wedding ring.’
‘He made you his wife?’ I asked, completely shocked.
She glanced up into my eyes briefly and I saw so much pain and unhappiness there I could weep with rage.
She told me the ceremony took place in Grandpa’s bed as Maria sat and watched. I shuddered. She was just thirteen when the mock wedding took place.
‘All the girls who went for teen training got a wedding ring.’
‘Even Mene?’ I whispered.
‘Yes,’ Armi replied.
But she’s his granddaughter. The thought disgusted me.
I could tell that there was more she wished she could say, but it was treason to divulge anything about Mo and Maria. If she had been found out, she would have been punished severely. I knew this and didn’t push her to tell me more – but it did explain why Krys, another teen girl who lived in our room, had a matching ring like Armi’s.
Sometimes Armi and I would pace the front garden for exercise, when we could exchange a few quick confidences out of the others’ hearing. One afternoon I told her a dream I’d had. ‘It was really weird. I tried to get this large egg and run away with it. And you jumped over the wall to escape.’
She looked at me in surprise. ‘I have been thinking about running away and finding my parents.’ She stopped, and glanced over her shoulder as if we could be overheard. Confiding in each other our inner thoughts was dangerous – they’d say we were murmuring and doubting. We were trapped in that world and could do nothing. I could sense her pain and though we never discussed it again, we had a shared empathy and understanding.
Krys and Armi were put on a regular dating schedule with two adult men, John and Silas. John had been the national area shepherd before Paul took over his job, and Silas was now the shepherd of Marianne’s Home’s sister commune close by, with his wife Endureth.
One morning I woke up to the sound of someone throwing up in the bathroom. It was Krys. After a few days Armi and I realized she was showing signs of pregnancy. Our teen shepherd, Windy, reported it to Marianne and one of the Home shoppers was sent off to buy a home pregnancy testing kit. The results were positive.
‘Who’s the father?’ I asked Armi.
‘I think it’s John. That’s what Krys told me.’
The leaders went into panic alert. Krys was just fourteen. There would be no question of taking her to hospital for pre-natal care. We were told not to discuss her