Daddy's Prisoner (8 page)

From then on I was kept indoors nearly all the time – only occasionally allowed out to see a neighbour, Mrs Smith, whose daughter was in a wheelchair, or attend the odd bit of school. If I was kept off in the morning, I’d sometimes go in for the afternoon, or if I had a PE lesson after lunch I’d go home early. The teachers gave me homework which I knew would never be looked at because I’d be too busy watching Charlie. The only time I wasn’t in charge of him was when Dad sent him and Mum to the shop to get something and I had to stay indoors so The Idiot could take what he wanted. What had happened every couple of weeks now occurred at least once a week after I was at home more with Charlie. I never fought against Dad or screamed when he wanted sex but to me it felt as if I was being raped again and again.

I just wanted to be like other girls my own age – learning at school and spending time with friends. But I knew I was not like my classmates and slowly I began to accept that I never would be. I stopped even dreaming of a normal life. Dad made sure I’d never have one every time he touched me. I was just a girl but he made me feel used and dirty, like an old rag no one wanted, as he slowly shut off the outside world from our home. Once Mrs Smith might have been invited in to have a drink at Christmas but now she was not allowed past the front door. The only time I really got to see normal life was when I was sent to the shop with a note listing what we needed but even then it was just a quick dash down the road and back again.

Mum couldn’t write very well so I’d do the list for her each time: bread, milk, a packet of Woodbines for her and small cigars for him. Sometimes she’d ask me to sneak a quarter of chocolate raisins on to the list and I’d write down half a pound to make sure we all got a taste.

So I’d run down the shop with the note and the man there would send me back with what we owed written down on a piece of paper. That way Dad never saw the chocolate raisins on the list and didn’t realise we were getting them. After running into the house with a bag of shopping, I’d sneak them to Mum in the kitchen and she’d hide them in a cupboard or the washing machine. Later, when gun shots and cowboy screams, or the moans of naked men and women, blared out from the TV Dad was glued to, she’d slip some of the sweets into my hand.

‘Go and give some to Laura, Kate and Charlie,’ she’d say. ‘And make sure Simon gets a couple too.’

Folding my hand gently around the chocolate raisins, I’d walk back into the lounge. Dad had blocked off a door to the kitchen to make sure no one could get in or out without walking past his bed in the living room because he wanted to know every detail of what we ate and drank. Stuffing my hand into my pocket, I’d walk slowly past before running upstairs and he never noticed that I was carrying treasure.

It felt so good to do one tiny thing Dad did not know about but he must have sensed my defiance like a dog sniffing out a bone because soon he started timing my visits to the shop.

‘What took you so long?’ he’d snarl when I arrived home.

‘Nothing,’ I’d reply.

‘Well, what were you up to?’

‘I just went there and back.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘I did.’

‘You fucking didn’t. You were gone twenty-five minutes and it doesn’t take that long. Who were you talking to? Were you chatting with those boys you’re at school with?’

‘No. I didn’t speak to anyone.’

‘You’d better not be because you’re for it if I catch you. I’ve told you to keep away from boys, do you hear?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘So what were you doing?’

‘Nothing, I promise.’

‘Well, next time you’re late you’ll get a hiding.’

After that I knew he was watching the clock on the wall each time I left for the shop. I had fifteen minutes walking time plus five to buy what was on the list otherwise there’d be trouble. But even though I always made it home on time, he soon found another reason to be vicious.

‘Where’s my change?’ he asked one day as I walked into the living room.

I’d run home because there had been a queue in the shop and my heart thumped as I stood in front of his bed. He was lying in a vest as he barked questions at me.

‘Here,’ I said as I walked up and dropped the coins into his hand.

‘There’s a pound missing,’ he said softly.

‘There can’t be.’

‘There fucking is. Where is it?’

‘I don’t know.’

He stared at me silently, his eyes darkening.

‘It must have dropped out of my pocket,’ I said in a rush.

His lip curled up.

‘You lying bitch. You’ve spent it, haven’t you?’

The Idiot got up out of bed and leaned towards me. Pushing his face into mine, he breathed in deeply as his nose almost touched my mouth. I felt sick as I smelled the stench of him so near me.

‘Did you buy sweets?’ he said softly.

I could hear him breathing in, smelling my breath to see if there was a clue hidden in it.

‘No, Dad. I didn’t, honest. The money must have dropped out of my pocket.’

He stepped back and looked at me.

‘Well then, turn out your pockets if you’ve nothing to hide.’

I pulled at the greying pockets of the jacket I was wearing. There was nothing in them.

‘Take off your shoes and socks,’ he said as he stared at me.

Once again, there was nothing hidden away that I didn’t want him to see. I wouldn’t have dared do such a thing. But still Dad wasn’t content because if there was one more way to torture me he would find it.

‘Well, you’d better get back outside with your brothers and find my money,’ he hissed as he sat back down.

I felt sick as I looked at him. I’d never find the money on the street now. The kids round here would have had it as soon as it fell out of my pocket. But I knew I’d have to do as he said and spent ages with my brothers searching, all the time feeling more and more afraid of what was waiting for me when I got home empty-handed.

‘Don’t you ever lose my money again,’ Dad shouted as he slapped me until my head span. ‘Now get out of my sight.’

Turning around, I ran out of the room. If I’d ever dared hope I might save some of his money and use it to run away, I knew I’d never be able to hide so much as a penny from him now.

Sometimes Dad used protection when he forced himself on to me, but by the time I was thirteen he decided he wanted me to go on the pill. I stopped taking it just before my fifteenth birthday because it gave me awful headaches. But even though I’d learned more about the facts of life at school by now, no one had ever mentioned what was happening to me. When it first started, I’d wondered if other little girls secretly did the same thing with their dads. Now I knew they didn’t and for that reason alone was sure I could never get pregnant because a daughter couldn’t give birth to her father’s child.

Deep down, though, I was still scared. But even in my darkest dreams – the ones in which I saw Dad’s face coming towards me and felt his breath on my skin before he pinned me to the bed – I could never have imagined what he wanted from me. My fear, though, didn’t disappear just because I refused to feel it and soon my periods stopped for months on end. The doctors ran tests to find out why but told me there was no physical reason so it must be because of stress.

I think now that my body was trying to stop me from giving The Idiot what I was terrified he wanted but I did not realise it then. All I knew was that there was nothing I could do to stop him having sex with me whenever he felt like it. If I was upstairs and the house went suddenly quiet, or if I was seeing to Charlie and heard Mum calling the kids to put on their coats because it was time to go out, I knew what was going to happen even before he shouted for me. As sure as waves crash on to a beach and the sun rises and shines, this was the pattern of my life now.

The ground swallowed me up in blackness as I fell towards it.

‘Alice?’ a voice enquired, and I opened my eyes to see Mum holding a wet cloth above me.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

I felt sick and dizzy as I looked up.

‘You’ve fainted,’ she said as she put the cloth to my forehead. ‘Lie still a minute and then we’ll get you up. I think you knocked yourself on the fireplace when you took a fall.’

My head hurt as I sat up and looked around the room. I didn’t know what had happened. One minute I was fine and the next I’d blacked out.

‘What’s the fucking problem now?’ Dad snarled from his bed.

‘She’s fainted but I’m going to take her up to the hospital because she hit her head.’

‘Well, be quick about it because I’ll be wanting my tea soon,’ he grunted.

Mum took me up to the hospital and we waited while the doctors did some tests to find out what was wrong.

‘Have you been eating right?’ Mum asked as we sat side by side. ‘Maybe that’s why you’re poorly. You’re off your food sometimes these days.’

‘I’m fine,’ I insisted.

We sat and waited until the doctor came back to talk to us.

‘Is there anything you want to tell your mum?’ he said as he looked at me sternly.

I felt suddenly afraid.

‘It’s time to tell your mum the truth,’ he said again, his voice hard.

My head rushed. Did he know about Dad? Could he tell from looking at me? Shame rushed up hot inside me as Mum turned to me. I knew I could never tell her about what had happened. It would hurt her more than she could bear. She was not strong enough.

‘Alice?’ Mum asked.

Silently, I stared at the doctor.

‘She’s pregnant,’ he snapped.

The ground fell from beneath me. My head felt light. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be happening. I could not have a baby. His baby. It wasn’t possible.

‘No,’ I whispered as a rush of sickness burned the back of my throat.

I wanted to run out of the room, away from these eyes staring at me and searching for the secrets I knew I would never share.

‘Well, you are and I’m sure you know how it happened even if you are only fifteen.’

The doctor’s voice sounded rough and accusing, his eyes bored into me as I sat statue still, my head rushing and my heart pounding. I couldn’t speak as questions were fired at me.

‘When was your last period? Have you had any morning sickness?’

I stared at him.

‘But I haven’t done anything.’

My words only seemed to make him angrier.

‘Well, of course you have.’

Mum looked at me.

‘What’s this, Alice? Whose is it?’

‘A boy at school,’ I whispered.

Mum started pulling on her coat as she stood up.

‘I think we’d better get home,’ she said, before thanking the doctor and leading me outside.

‘Oh, Alice,’ she said as she looked at me. ‘What are we going to tell your dad? You said you’d wait. You promised me you wouldn’t get into trouble. What’s he going to do when he hears about this?’

I didn’t know what to say, how to explain this thing growing inside me. I was too young to have a baby. I could not let the proof of what a terrible girl I was grow inside.

When we got home, The Idiot started raging the moment Mum told him the news.

‘How the fuck did this happen?’ he screamed. ‘What have you been up to, you little slut?’

But even as he shouted, I could see a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I didn’t understand. He was happy. He thought this was funny.

‘What did the doctor say?’ he snarled when he’d finally quietened down and Mum had left the room.

‘Just what Mum told you. I’m pregnant.’

‘No. About the father?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t tell him anything.’

Dad looked at me as I stood at the edge of the room.

‘What am I going to do?’ I whispered.

He walked towards me and stood close.

‘It’s all right,’ he replied softly.

I looked at him confused. How could it ever be all right? I was carrying his child. My father’s baby.

My mind rushed as I wondered what he meant before I suddenly realised. I’d heard about terminations, knew you could get one if you didn’t want a baby. Was he going to help me?

‘Your mum and I will look after you,’ Dad said, and my throat tightened as he stared at me. ‘We’ll help you. We’ll work it through.’

I looked at him, my mind edging towards what I knew he meant until coldness spread through my body.

‘I can’t have it,’ I whispered. ‘You know I can’t.’

He stared at me, a smile still almost playing at the side of his lips as his eyes narrowed.

‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘And you will.’

I could not think or feel when I realised what Dad was going to make me do. I had to close myself off like a tap or else I would be overwhelmed with the horror of what was happening to me. It was not a baby inside, just a thing and I wanted it out of me more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I’d have done whatever The Idiot asked of me just to get rid of it. Revulsion filled me if my mind even flickered towards thinking about my pregnancy and I’d imagine pushing something sharp inside me or throwing myself out of a window to kill what was growing within me and myself too. At night I’d pray as I lay in bed and listened to the sounds of the children breathing around me. Maybe if I asked Him enough times then He would make sure the baby was not born. It could not be born.