Don't You Love Your Daddy? (15 page)

‘Count me out,’ Pete told him firmly and within seconds another of their rows erupted.

On the Friday before the Saturday that Sue was expected at the house my father didn’t come home for the first time. ‘I’m staying at yours until Sunday,’ my grandmother told me, when I arrived at her house after school. ‘Your father’s staying away this evening,’ she informed Pete, when she arrived with me, Billy in his pushchair and a bag containing an assortment of groceries.

Pete announced that he had no intention of being in the house when ‘that Sue’ arrived and that Nana needn’t bother making him any supper either. Loftily he explained to Nana that he had made arrangements to spend the whole weekend with a friend. Then, picking up his duffel bag, he left. Somehow I sensed that he blamed my grandmother as well as my father for this new woman coming into our lives.

That night, despite the atmosphere that Pete had created before he left, I went to bed feeling much happier than I usually did on a Friday. Nana was there and my father wasn’t coming home. My darling Dolly was curled up beside me and I wondered if a new mummy would keep my father away from me on Fridays. I hoped and prayed so.

That Saturday morning my grandmother moved from room to room, making sure that our house was clean and tidy. She dusted the furniture, wiped the bathroom and kitchen surfaces with bleach, and wonderful smells of home baking came out of the kitchen.

In the early afternoon a freshly washed Billy was dressed in his newest outfit and he sat on the floor surrounded by toys as Nana made every effort to keep him clean and quiet. She had already selected a clean dress for me to wear and, once I had walked Dolly, I was bathed and changed too. I was told to stay indoors so, like Billy, I couldn’t get dirty.

I was sitting on the sofa, trying to read a book, when I heard my father’s voice as he walked towards the front door. Then it opened and I saw Sue for the very first time. I stared at her in astonishment for she didn’t look like anyone I had seen on our estate. Tall and slim, she was dressed in a pale pink trouser suit that flared over her high-heeled silver platform shoes. Her dark auburn hair was cut in a long shaggy bob and her face was perfectly made up. I stared at her and watched as her eyes, which I later saw were a light grey, peered around the room through very long and thickly mascaraed lashes. Her gaze fell on me, and her mouth, which was painted a pale pearly pink, stretched into a smile. ‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘You must be Sally. Your daddy’s told me lots about you and I just know we’re going to be friends.’ One of her hands with their long silver nails dipped into the large carrier bag she was holding and came out with an oblong box. ‘I’ve brought you a present.’

Opening it, I found a flaxen-haired Barbie doll inside. I forced myself to return her smile as I pretended it was something I wanted more than anything else in the world. But I felt a small lump of disappointment. Since Dolly’s arrival, dolls had become less and less interesting. Even my Tiny Tears one, Bella, spent most of her time lying neglected in my toy cupboard. That year I had also learnt to read and had discovered what fun there was to be had inside the pages of books. I would have preferred a new one, rather than this doll.

‘What do you say to your auntie Sue, Sally?’ said my grandmother, more to establish that I was to prefix Sue’s name with that sign of respect than to tell me that a ‘thank you’ was expected.

‘And who’s this little man?’ Sue cooed, as she turned her attention to Billy, who, with his freshly combed blond curls and clean rosy cheeks, was looking like a deliciously rounded cherub. A soft toy was handed to him. His podgy little fingers curled round it and his face broke into a wide smile that showed his little teeth.

‘Oh, isn’t he just so adorable? You could eat him up!’ exclaimed Sue, looking excitedly at both my grandmother and father. I noticed that she made no effort to touch my little brother.

Dolly, used to getting attention from everyone who came to our house, looked at her expectantly, waiting for the customary pat. Receiving a dismissive glance, she slunk over to sit by my side.

My grandmother, much to my annoyance, fussed around Sue, ignoring Billy and me. I pulled Dolly on to my lap to pet her and reassure her that she was loved.

Tea was poured into the best china cups that had been a wedding present to my father and mother. Golden scones still warm from the oven were piled on a plate and placed on the table, along with a coffee and walnut cake my grandmother had baked that morning. Plus there was a selection of sandwiches – ham and tomato, salmon and cucumber, and egg mayonnaise, which, the crusts trimmed off, had been cut into neat triangles.

Leaving Dolly on the sofa, I took my place next to my grandmother.

‘Haven’t you forgotten something, Sally dear?’ asked Sue.

I had no idea what she was talking about and my mind raced as I tried to think what it could be.

Seeing she had not just my attention but my father’s and grandmother’s, she gave one of the high-pitched tinkling laughs that by the end of the afternoon I would have grown to dislike.

‘Your hands, dear! You haven’t washed them after stroking that dog, have you?’ I looked to my grandmother for support. Surely she wouldn’t allow Sue to usurp her like that.

Instead of supporting me, my grandmother agreed with the comment. ‘Sally, do what your auntie Sue tells you,’ she said firmly. With that sentence my grandmother made it clear that, however short a time Sue had been in my father’s life, she was now going to be in control of mine.

Sue seemed content in her small victory and then proceeded to pick at a sandwich and half a scone but shook her head adamantly at a slice of cake. ‘A girl’s got to watch her figure,’ she said, patting her flat stomach. Her laugh rang out again when my grandmother and my father told her she was perfect as she was. More tea was poured and something approaching conversation was made. I realized then that this was not the first time Nana had met Sue and I felt a sudden spurt of resentment. Why had it taken so long for us to hear about her? Why had my grandmother not told us? I felt a sense of betrayal then, and whatever my grandmother had said since my mother had died, I wondered if she had really liked her. Round and round those thoughts went in my head, and I looked at the intruder with suspicion.

‘I think your daddy looks just like Harrison Ford, don’t you, Sally?’ Sue asked, when she caught me looking at her. I had heard older girls refer to the
Star Wars
actor as a ‘dish’ and squirmed with embarrassment.

The moment the tea was finished, Sue made it clear that it was time to leave. One slim hand covered my father’s. ‘David, we don’t want to be late, do we?’ Apparently they had arranged to meet another couple. ‘We’ve got to drive back to my neck of the woods and it takes for ever,’ she said, by way of explanation to no one in particular. A quick visit paid to our bathroom, or ‘the little girls’ room’, as she called it, fresh pink lipstick artfully applied, then goodbyes were hastily said. A quick hug for me, a pat on the head for Billy, a smile for me from my father, and they were gone, leaving a waft of Sue’s overpowering perfume clinging to the room.

I stood there with a lump in my throat. In just that short visit I had seen the reality of the situation that she was now the most important person in my father’s life and, because of that, my grandmother would always take her side over mine. Her presence took away the last of my security and I knew that day that any changes she would bring were not going to be for the better, as far as I was concerned.

After that visit two things changed. As good as his word, Pete left school and moved out. He had a job, he told us, and didn’t want to stay where the woman he believed had been the cause of his mother’s unhappiness was welcome.

‘It’s not true what Pete thinks,’ my grandmother tried to tell me, but I believed my brother.

The second change was that my father started staying away in the week as well as at weekends, but seldom on a Friday night. I learnt later that on those nights Sue had what she called her ‘catch-up’ time with her girlfriends and had refused to give it up.

If I had hoped that her presence in my father’s life was going to change how he was towards me, I was soon proved very wrong. Not only did he come regularly to my room but now that Pete was gone he no longer had to creep furtively between the two bedrooms. Also, what made things even worse was that I never knew now which night he was going to choose. Every time I heard him on the stairs I feigned sleep, praying that this would be the night he would leave me alone.

In the daytime, in front of other people, he always appeared to be a caring father, but when we were on our own he alternated between being distant and leering at me.

‘Just you and me left in the house now, my girl,’ he would say, and hearing those words with their barely concealed meaning, I felt myself cringe.

During half-term he took time off work. ‘I want to spend a little time with my special girl,’ he said to my grandmother, who smiled and said she thought his attempt to get closer to me was a very good idea. When I returned home from school for the start of the short holiday he was already at the house, waiting for me.

The curtains were drawn back in all the rooms for, until dusk fell, it would have looked strange to the neighbours if they were left closed. Pete had described to me how the neighbours had known of our mother’s death: Nana had drawn the curtains on the day she had died.

‘Sally, come into the hall with me.’ Without waiting for an answer, he drew me by the arm into the small dark square between the front door and the two downstairs rooms. It was the one part of the house that no curious eyes could see into and, standing there, I sensed an excitement in him I hadn’t seen before.

He turned me around and bent my body. With the second stair supporting my weight I wriggled in protest at having my bottom so unceremoniously sticking up into the air. His hand grabbed the back of my neck and pressed my face towards the dusty stair carpet.

‘Keep still,’ he commanded, and his free hand shot under my school skirt. With one tug he pulled my knickers down to my ankles. I screeched with shock as he spat. Then I felt his finger slide inside me and I cried out with pain and indignation.

‘You’ll soon be ready,’ he crooned. ‘Yep, nearly ready for me to make you a proper woman.’ I felt the familiar hard thing against my buttocks as he manoeuvred it between my legs. ‘You like that, don’t you, my dirty little girl?’ His thrusts got faster and harder with every word he gasped out. My knees seemed to have crumpled and while he supported my tummy to keep my bottom in the air my head had collapsed forward and my cheek was rubbing against the carpet. Dust and fluff seemed to fill my nose and with each thrust my breath became more restricted and my chest began to tighten.

The pressure made it seem as if the back of my throat was closing up, and as he felt me struggle for air, he moved against me harder. When he finally grunted and cried out, he stood up and I felt moisture between the cheeks of my bottom and running down my legs. My limp body slipped down the first few stairs and he left me lying on the floor gasping, only to return a few moments later with my asthma inhaler. ‘Just two puffs, Sally, like the nurse showed you,’ he told me, holding it towards me. I took it and squirted it inside my mouth and to the back of my throat. Hungrily I sucked in the air it had released into my constricted lungs.

‘Now say, “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for getting my medicine.” ’

I looked up at him and, frightened by the expression on his face, I said what he was determined to make me say. ‘Thank you, Daddy,’ I replied. Then, slowly and painfully, I got to my feet on legs that wobbled and almost seemed not to be mine. Shakily I picked up my crumpled knickers and took myself to the bathroom to wash. I tore off sheets of toilet paper and rubbed everywhere he had touched, until my skin felt sore. Then I went downstairs, picked up Dolly and took her into the garden.

That night he waited until I was asleep before coming into my bedroom. ‘No, please, Daddy,’ I begged him, when he woke me. ‘I don’t want to.’ He took no notice and just turned on my bedside lamp. For the first time I saw the naked body of my father.

His chest was covered with thick matted hair and the hard thing, which was so much bigger than Billy’s, stood out from his body and was purple and swollen.

‘Open your mouth for me, Sally,’ he commanded.

Realizing what he wanted to do, I clenched my teeth, shook my head furiously and tried to beg him again not to do it. But whatever pleas I managed to get out of my mouth, he took no notice. Instead, without saying another word, he gripped my face and forced my clamped lips apart. Then he pushed the hard thing against them.

I tried to keep my teeth together as he rubbed it against my mouth. He took my fingers and placed them around it. ‘Sally, if you don’t want me to shove this inside you like I did my finger,’ he said, touching me under my nightdress to show me exactly where he meant, ‘then do what I tell you and open your bloody mouth.’ Shaking with fear at his threat, I unclenched my teeth.

Angry tears spurted from my eyes and I choked when he pushed it into my open mouth. His hands reached towards my head and tangled in my hair as he moved my head backwards and forwards. The smell of him filled my nose and I felt as if I was choking. Then, just before his body buckled and shuddered, he pulled it out. Slimy smelly fluid covered my mouth and face and dribbled down the front of my nightdress. Regardless of his scrutiny, I spat and spat to get rid of the horrid taste that filled my mouth. I wanted to make sure that the slime did not go down my throat.