I was 15 when Paul joined my high school in Queensland, Australia, as a PE teacher. He was fun and handsome, and seemed much younger than his 31 years. I was obsessed with dance, and when Paul complimented me on my gymnastics, I was thrilled the “cool” teacher had noticed me.
He’d always stop for a chat. I was the only child of a single mum and though she was there for me, I didn’t confide in her. But he was easy to talk to and I quickly developed a crush.
“You’ve got a muscly bum,” he remarked one day. “I can see it through your shorts.”
I began to wonder if he liked me back. During athletics training he would deliberately step into my path so that I’d collide with him.
Other people were starting to notice Paul’s interest. I denied we were getting close, but rumours kept swirling and he was eventually suspended.
I thought I’d never see him again, but he got someone to pass me his number and asked to meet up. I told Mum I was joining friends and met him at the beach. As we were leaving, he kissed me. It was what I’d been dreaming about, yet it felt wrong. I told myself I just needed to grow up.
One day, I was home sick from school. Knowing Mum was at work, he turned up with chicken soup. At first it seemed romantic, but when Paul started kissing my neck, I froze. My mind drifted away as he led me to the shower. “This is our secret,” he told me.
That was the start of our physical relationship, although we didn’t have sex until I’d turned 16 six months later. By then, Mum knew we were in a relationship. Years later, I asked why she didn’t stop it. She struggles to understand it, but said she didn’t have the confidence to stand up to him and risk alienating me.
Paul found a teaching job in Brisbane and asked me to join him. Mum was desperate not to lose me, so agreed to move, too. When I turned 18, I was relieved to go public as a couple. It was what I’d been waiting for, but neither of us was happy. A year later Paul left and got engaged to someone else, but he was still in contact with me.
When I was 20, he called and told me his relationship was over. Within days we were seeing each other again.
Almost immediately, I got pregnant. I should have felt happy, but I was filled with dread. When Paul proposed – with the same ring he’d given his ex-fiancee – I felt trapped into saying yes. Afterwards, I tiptoed around his bad moods. The only bright spot was the birth of my daughter, when I was 21, followed by my son two years later. I adored being a mum.
Being around other parents for the first time, however, I could see how other relationships worked. They looked nothing like mine. I went to a psychologist, who started talking to me about toxic relationships.
Then I caught Paul talking to another woman, and he moved out. By that time I was 29. Maturity allowed me to look back and see how coercive our relationship had been.
Two years later, we divorced. Part of me wanted to forget all about him. A larger part was more indignant. Paul was still teaching; I had to report him.
In 2018 I made a statement to the police. I was terrified they wouldn’t believe me because I’d married my abuser. To my relief, they recognised I’d been groomed. It took a couple of years for him to be arrested, and then the case went to trial in April 2024. Thankfully, I didn’t have to look at Paul while I testified. I sobbed as the jury found him guilty of indecent treatment of a child.
He was sentenced to two and a half years in prison, but was released in August 2025. Our children are 18 and 20 now, so they understand what he did. Neither speaks to him.
I’d gone back to university to retrain as a dance and drama teacher but wanted to use my experience to help others. I set up a charity, Step in for Kids, to raise awareness of the early stages of grooming.
Mum and I get on well now. I’ve had to work to forgive her, but I don’t blame her. Paul took advantage of both of us. I look at my daughter and it pains me to think what I’d gone through by her age. It makes me more determined to make this world safer for children.
As told to Jacqui Paterson
Do you have an experience to share? Email experience@theguardian.com
