Not-so Cinderella: The Foster Mom from Hell

January 26th, 2008 · No Comments

Alloma Gilbert

Alloma Gilbert lived with her parents and younger brother, Thomas, in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, UK. The family appeared happy and life was as normal as could be but the parent’s had problems that were a result of doing drugs during their youth. They kept trying to get help and cleaned up but were mostly unsuccessful. In an attempt to give them a better life, her parents decided to send them to a foster mother, Eunice Spry, when Alloma was 7. Eunice Spry seemed like a caring woman but the two children soon discovered that it was all a façade and the woman was about to make their lives a living hell.

Eunice Spry originally treated the family and children well, making it seem as if she was naturally a kind person. Her true intentions were later revealed when the two children went to live with the woman. The only reason she was kind to the parents was because she wanted them to give up their kids. Not only did she want the children, she wanted the money the parents would pay for her to be their caregiver. Soon after the children moved into the home, Eunice’s abuse began.

She constantly felt the need to punish the children, especially Alloma. She called Alloma and her brother the devil’s children and treated them as such. Most of the punishment was undeserved for the offense committed. Here is an excerpt from the story:

One of the most terrifying things about Eunice’s discipline was that it was never doled out in temper. It was always done in a cold, hard, calculating way, often hours and sometimes even days after the misdemeanour had been committed.

Then, when she was ready to let rip, she would grab me by the arm, drag me into the living room and close the door.

While I stood trembling, she would fetch a piece of wood that she kept under the stairs with her Jehovah’s Witness books. It was about two feet long – I think it was the handle off an old copper saucepan or something.

“Take your shoes and socks off,” she would command, tapping the stick on her left palm, as if testing its weight.

I remember the first time this happened. I had no idea exactly what she was going to do and just stood there trembling in my bare feet. Suddenly, Eunice bent over and I felt a most enormous “clunk” across the toes of my right foot. The pain seared through my bare feet, and I screamed out loud.

“Be quiet,” said Eunice. “Don’t fuss. You’ll make it worse for yourself.”

How could it be worse? I was shaking and crying, but Eunice was bent double again, raising the stick and now she was going at my toes with great, unrelenting clunks. Clunk, clunk, clunk … on and on, five, ten, 15 times. Then she changed foot.

“Stand still, you’ll make it worse,” she said again.

By now I was beside myself, yelping and screaming. But there was no let-up until the punishment was finally done.

This wasn’t even the worst of the abuse. The abuse continued for years, even after social services would come to the home to check on the children. When that occurred, Eunice would clean up the kids and house and make it appear as if life were perfect. When the person left, things went back to “normal”. Here’s another excerpt:

One day, I was in the kitchen when Eunice appeared, looking very angry. It was the third day in a row I’d forgotten to buy some throat sweets she’d asked me to get from the village shop. I knew I was in for it.

“Where are those throat sweets I told you to get?” she demanded.

I knew that saying anything at all would inflame the situation, so I stayed still, hoping the storm would pass.

“Cat got your tongue, has it?” she said. “Well, I’ll give you a sore throat, then you’ll know how it feels.”

Next, I was being dragged unceremoniously out of the kitchen by my arm and into the living room, where I prepared myself for the usual beating. I noticed, however, that this time there were two sticks, not one.

“Open your mouth,” said Eunice. Coming towards my opened mouth was a long piece of wood, wedge-shaped and about a foot long. To my horror, Eunice thrust the wood into my mouth, past my new front teeth, until it hit the soft tissue at the back of my throat.

I retched hard, tasting the wood. I could hardly breathe. In response, Eunice pushed the wood in further. This time she is going to kill me, I thought.

Then I felt the familiar, sickening thwack on the soles of my feet. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. I was being hideously assaulted on two different parts of my body, and if I protested, the wedge would be driven further down my throat.

Afterwards I lay on my side in a foetal position, shaking from the shock, moaning and weeping while holding my throat with both hands.

“You won’t forget those throat sweets now.” And with that, Eunice swept out of the room to get on with the rest of her day, satisfied at another sadistic, soul-saving job done.

Luckily, Alloma was able to get away from the house. She quickly told people of what had happened to her at the home and the authorities arrested Eunice. Eunice was sentenced to 14 years in prison for the abuse of the children. Quite frankly, I do not believe the sentence was harsh enough. What she put the children through was inexcusable and the 14 year sentence should have been greater. I understand the woman is old and does not have that much life left in her but she deserves something more severe. Maybe her punishment should have been for her to receive same punishment as she inflicted on the children. I know it sounds harsh and extreme but this story left me in shock. Alloma Gilbert has written a book about her experience with Eunice. The book is available from Amazon.com and will be released March 7th.

Click below for the link to the article from the UK’s Daily Mail.

[How I survived being starved, beaten and tortured by my Jehovah's Witness foster mother]

Links to the book:

For the UK: [Deliver Me From Evil by Alloma Gilbert UK]

For the US: [Deliver Me From Evil by Alloma Gilbert US]

Eunice