"My Overprotective Mom Never Let Me Go to Sleepovers—Then She Revealed She Was My Sister Too!"

EVEN though my mum was speaking slowly and clearly, I just couldn’t make sense of the words. I asked her to repeat it, and she said: “Your biological dad is my biological dad. It’s the same man. This is why I never told you about him. I’m so sorry.”

My mind was whirring. My grandfather was also my father – and my mum was also my sister? At the age of just 13, I simply couldn’t make sense of it.

Kadie Don said her mind was left whirring after her mother finally the dark secret behind why she was so protective of her Credit: Fabio De Paola In 2011, Kadie’s grandfather Nigel Taylor was jailed for seven years at Basildon Crown Court after admitting sexual activity with a child family member Credit: Focus Features

Ever since I was small, it had just been my mum Stace, now 37, and me. In those early years, I had never really questioned it. Mum was all I needed.

She worked hard, juggling various jobs – yet I always felt like her priority. When I was a toddler, she carefully stencilled castles and princesses on to the walls of my pink bedroom. At Christmas and on birthdays, I had so many presents – I wanted for nothing.

Each night, we played a “Love you, love you more” game, which sometimes went on until Mum was making her way downstairs. Neither of us liked to let the other say it last! We were so similar in character, and looked almost identical, too.

I was close to my nan – my mum’s mother – who lived near us in Oldham, Greater Manchester. Nan took me to dance class each weekend, and Mum signed me up for acting lessons, too.

was never mentioned, and I didn’t think to ask. Likewise, I never even thought about who my father was or why I’d never met him.

When I was around seven, we were given a school project to make a collage out of household rubbish. The teachers had told us to ask our parents for help, which prompted me to ask Mum where my dad was.

Pulling me into a hug, she replied that I didn’t have one, and she was both.
That was enough for me then. But by high school, I was becoming curious.

Plenty of my friends had divorced or separated parents. But at least they saw their dads sometimes, or if not, they knew who they were. My dad was a complete mystery.

Mum became more and more protective, too. Just as I reached the age where I wanted freedom, she reined me in. I wasn’t allowed on sleepovers or school trips, or even to visit friends’ houses. It was so frustrating, but any time I asked why she didn’t trust me, she’d just grimace and reply: “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

My frustration grew until, one Saturday afternoon soon after I turned 13, Mum sat me down and told me the reason why she was so overprotective – it was because my father was also my grandfather, and she was worried he would track me down.

She didn’t explain anything else and, at first, it was impossible to take in. I was too young to grasp the magnitude of it, and insisted I wanted to meet him. I didn’t doubt he was a bad person, but I wanted to see that for myself.

Mum stood firm, she explained she didn’t want to put me in danger. But she agreed I could meet a paternal relative, who showed me some photos of my biological father, Nigel Taylor. I was hungry for details. This was part of my identity, no matter how difficult. But then the relative said I looked like him, and I recoiled. I didn’t want to hear that.

In the months that followed, I didn’t speak about Nigel to anyone. Mum tried to get support from social services, but they said they’d never come across a case like ours before. They didn’t know what to suggest or how to support us.

As time went on, Mum told me more. She’d been raised in foster care because her parents could not look after her. But in her teens, Nigel took her to live with him, and was physically, mentally and sexually abusive to her. Then, on the eve of her 18th birthday in April 2007, he forced himself on her.

Mum Stace with newborn Kadie The pair are now closing than ever – and Kadie even admits she’s now overprotective of her mother

Shortly after, Mum realised she was pregnant. She said she loved me and wanted to keep me from the moment she found out, and Nigel let her leave as he didn’t want to be around when she started to show. He warned her that if she told anyone, he would kill both of us, so Mum moved in with Nan and kept the secret.

After I was born in February 2008, being a mum helped her , and in 2010, she reported him to the . In 2011, aged 59, Nigel was jailed for seven years at Basildon Crown Court after admitting sexual activity with a child family member. He was ordered to sign the sex offenders register and to stay away from us.

In the meantime, Mum rebuilt her relationship with Nan, who was horrified by Nigel’s actions, and focused on making sure I grew up always feeling loved and wanted.

I’d always known Mum was strong. But now, hearing what she’d been through, I was overwhelmed. I understood why she had kept the truth from me for so long. But the burden now weighed heavy on me.

Like Mum, I became anxious and over-protective. I looked after her, as she looked after me.

When I was 16, Mum decided to speak publicly about what had happened to her and I was filled with admiration. But still, I didn’t feel ready myself. Instead, I confided in a friend at school and, to my horror, he told everyone. Mostly, people were supportive. But some idiots were cruel, taunting me about how my dad was my grandad.

In a way, I was glad it was out in the open. I realised speaking out was best – not just for me, but for other kids, too. Staying silent didn’t help anyone.

Aged 18, I’m now at college studying health and social care. Mum has launched Safe, Seen & Heard – a series of preventative programmes to educate and support and adults, raising awareness of healthy boundaries and safe spaces. I will be running my own programme alongside hers, aimed at supporting children and teenagers through trauma.

I have no idea where Nigel is now, and I don’t want to know. I’ve never met anyone in the same situation as me and it can be a lonely place. I want to be there for other kids, to let them know they are not on their own.

Knowing the truth has ultimately brought me and Mum so much closer. Incredibly strong and loving, she is a survivor. I am proud when people say how alike we are – but they have no idea just how much we share.