Dear Bel,

My mum was never maternal. I don’t recall much affection. She just yelled at us, good at smacking too, and beat me when I got brought back after running away for the second time as a child.

That was before the first sexual assault by my stepfather (then her boyfriend), which happened later. The atmosphere at home was already dangerous.

My mother was open about her affair even though my father was very ill. Her boyfriend would be in the house and I know my father knew. The memory is horrendous. I was Dad’s wee darling and felt it was my fault – because I let it happen. As if I could have changed things.

Sometimes Mum could be OK: cook lovely meals and go for walks with us. But after Dad died there were two serious assaults on me and one attempted, and in the end I left home.

It was the years of bullying and control and criticism which really did the damage. Further education was impossible because there was no support at home. It all led me to an early marriage to a talented man who turned out also to be controlling and bullying.

I don’t know whether to try to confront my mother (now very old) and her boyfriend one last time. I haven’t seen her for about ten years, although we do email (a bit awkwardly) once a year or so. All I want is for him to admit what he did. He did admit it to me once but went on to deny it to my mum. She has viewed me as a liar and troublemaker ever since.

When I had my eldest child I was suddenly very angry – because I loved him so much, how she could she have let it happen to her own child? She should have noticed how I avoided the man. Since she’d been a teacher she should have seen the evidence.

At last, I found great happiness with my late second husband. Now it’s summer, that beautiful time of year when my beloved was dying, just a few years ago. That loss (as well as all my bad memories) feels worse because I work hard doing all sorts of jobs to make ends meet but am not able to earn enough.

On the plus side my youngest child had her gorgeous first baby a few months ago. I’m going to see them all next week – my son and daughter and four grandchildren. All lovely. So I’m not desperate.

It’s just that sometimes I get sad about it all. I’ve never had counselling to try to come to terms with the past (I couldn’t afford it). At least I’ve got it off my chest here, and also have a good pal who’s a psychiatrist. Don’t you think sometimes it’s better to talk to friends? Bottle of wine and a packet of fags works mostly . . .

DEIRDRE

Bel replies: This letter gives me more hope than any politician delivering yet another clichéd speech.

Why? Because you provide an essential example of a very important truth – that although we may not be able to change the circumstances of our lives, we are certainly able to put ourselves in charge of how we deal with them, past and present.

That means being able to draw meaning from experience and rise above painful truths. That is what your letter reveals to me – and I admire it so much.

Reading about your childhood fills me with horror. Nice meals notwithstanding, your mother’s behaviour to you wasn’t motherly, was it?

Believe me, you are far from being the only reader who has described such a childhood.

I assume she was so besotted with her lover she refused to notice his sexual attraction to her daughter. Again, such denial is more common than you’d think. Of course, it’s possible that she didn’t realise – but more likely that she chose blinkers because she was in thrall to the man.

It’s a shocker to read that she was a teacher but I’m not entirely surprised. I have encountered many teachers and been close to one, and remember their messy private lives and strange lack of intuition about human nature. It’s disturbing to consider potential consequences.

You’ve lived a lifetime with such consequences.

Interestingly, you use the word ‘damage’, yet the tone of your email is that of a survivor. You describe the awful scars inflicted on your body and soul – but then immediately reach for the means by which you have countered them.

How I wish more people were like that. It’s like waving two defiant fingers at the pain of the past, and saying: ‘That terrible stuff happened to me, but now I have all this.

You avoid words like ‘trauma’ but acknowledge sadness. Thank goodness for that honesty and wisdom.

Having found great happiness with your second husband, you are still feeling your bereavement acutely. It’s a time when you might have longed for support from your mother.

But what matters is that you are close to your two children and rejoice in the grandchildren. You always seem to reach for the ‘plus side’ and (from reading your longer letter) I believe you have the strength to find it.

Should you talk to your mother and stepfather? What would be the point? You heard his admission once, then had to endure her denial and abuse, which must have redoubled your pain. Why leave yourself open to that all over again? It doesn’t sound like you hate her so I’d leave it alone.

Sometimes subjecting yourself to therapy can be helpful. But, equally, it’s often best to look in the mirror and say: ‘Time to crack on, my girl!’ That seems to be your style, even though life’s not rosy.

Yes, cherish what’s lovely and talk to friends. I can’t think of many things I’d like more than to share a bottle of wine and a packet of fags (well, not so much those) with you, Deirdre. Works for me too.

Too proud to see she's being scammed

Dear Bel,

I’m in my early 70s, living alone. My old friend (also a grandmother but older) lives hundreds of miles away. We stay in touch by phone and our chats are about daily life, family, health and politics.

Now she is raving about a Facebook Kevin Costner fan site. She said she and Kevin had developed an emotional bond and he’d asked her to message him on WhatsApp. Naturally alarm bells were ringing, but she was so girlishly excited I let her talk.

She went on to say that poor Kevin was struggling emotionally and financially and unable to complete a film, through no fault of his own. I tried to be diplomatic, but had to warn her this was a scam.

I told her not to have any more contact or give her details, and especially not to send money. She grew angry, saying I was too cynical to understand, and ended our call.

I sent her a link to one of the other bogus Facebook Kevin Costner fan sites but haven’t heard back. This seems to be a problem for people of all ages.

With emotions involved it’s hard to argue with someone who is utterly convinced their online contact with someone famous is genuine. Do you have any advice?

HELEN

Bel replies: Every day we are presented with examples of how the internet is making life so much worse.

Yes, it’s unbelievably useful for most of us and it’s now hard to imagine what we’d do without it – but has it really made life better?

For me the jury is still out. You give just one example of what can be seen when we lift the stone of the internet and observe what’s crawling beneath it.

Scamming gullible women is, of course, nothing compared with the pornography, violence, perversion, incitements to suicide, lies and hatred that are spread every second everywhere.

Still, that unscrupulous individuals should bother to set up dishonest identities to deceive and extort… sickening.

Your poor friend is probably feeling lonely. Maybe she remembers handsome Kevin in Dances With Wolves or Bull Durham or maybe more recently as John Dutton in Yellowstone. Many people fantasise about stars. Many also crave attention – and glamour, too. It’s easy to understand such emotions and dreams – but not her extraordinary naivety. She obviously didn’t want to hear the truth.

I suspect that might be because she had already sent ‘Kevin’ a donation to help him through his difficulties.

Perhaps she felt embarrassed and foolish when she received evidence that such sites are a scam. That is to hope for the best.

If I were you, I would try telephoning her again and driving home your point. Don’t give up.

If she still won’t listen, you might even have to sacrifice this long friendship by intervening, even if she says that she will never speak to you again.

I would try to contact one of her family to alert them to what is going on. She cannot be allowed to fall prey to wicked liars and thieves, since the consequences for her living standards and her health could be dire.

Good luck with your mission to help.

And finally... Break habits of a lifetime to feel renewed

When I recently signed off to go on holiday I said: ‘I hope to be able to relax.’

It was a high-activity, sporty family break which I’ll soon be writing about for the Mail’s inspiring travel pages. But I can happily report that I did relax – by doing nothing at all for the whole week, except hang out with my daughter, drink cocktails and devour four novels in the excellent Frieda Klein series by Nicci French. Bliss!

Our usual holiday choices involve culture. I require art, history and churches – the more the better. Though I dislike walking I’ll always go the extra mile if there’s going to be an art gallery at the end of it.

So this holiday reminded me how refreshing it is to make a change in your habits. It’s a cliché, I know, but more useful than I realised.

It’s made me reflect on the benefits of breaking out of habits.

As the nutrition gurus say, if you’ve always eaten breakfast cereal in the morning, make that one change (try a simple egg, or fruit and yoghurt, for example) and not only will it be better for you, you will also feel energised.

Go for a walk leaving your phone behind. Instead of lounging by the pool in your holiday resort, check the locality and go to see something – anything. Read a book! Buy a newspaper!

If you always go on doing what you’ve always done there’s a risk you’ll end up boring yourself. So try to make one change this week.

Anyway, I came back, refreshed, to your lovely emails. Thank you for sympathising with me, showing appreciation for my work, and also sharing my sadness and outrage at the murder of Ann Widdecombe. I’m so grateful for all that fellow feeling.