When Daddy Comes Home (9 page)

The excitement began to die away as she looked at her mother. Ruth couldn’t quite meet her gaze and Antoinette sensed that she was struggling to explain why her husband would not like his daughter having a date. Ruth was finding it difficult to pick her words and for once she did not give her the opportunity to voice them. Nothing was going to spoil her night.

T
hree months after their first date, Derek told Antoinette that he wanted her to meet his closest friends.

‘Neil and Charlotte have been dating for a couple of years,’ he explained. ‘Charlotte lives at home, as you’d expect, but Neil is in his final year at Queen’s and shares a flat with two other students near the university. I thought it would be nice if we went out as a foursome. What do you think?’

‘That sounds lovely,’ said Antoinette, though at once she felt panicky about whether Derek’s friends would like her or not. She decided immediately that she would wear the same navy-blue two-piece suit that she had worn when Derek had taken her to the Chinese restaurant. Since then she had seen him regularly and so far had been able to hide from her father the fact that she had a boyfriend, although she was beginning to find the whole situation rather stressful. She’d see Derek on a Saturday night when they went dancing, and then sometimes on a Sunday when she sneaked out to meet him. They would go for a walk or to the cinema, and then have a kiss and cuddle afterwards. It was all very normal stuff, and so far she had managed to avoid him bringing her home, but she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hide Derek’s existence.

This time, on the night that they were going out with Neil and Charlotte, she agreed that he could fetch her from her home. As her mother was working the evening shift and her father was playing at a snooker match, she would have the house to herself. Joe would stay out until at least midnight, celebrating with his friends if he won or commiserating with them if he didn’t. Whichever it was, she would not see him and he would be unaware of her plans for that evening.

As she got dressed, she realized how nervous she felt. After all, if Derek wanted her to meet his friends, it was a sign that their relationship was beginning to become serious. Knowing that, she still had fought against the temptation to buy another new outfit. I’ve got to save for secretarial college, she told herself sternly. It was still her dream to get the qualifications she needed to escape.

She washed her hair and styled it, carefully applied her make-up, then gave her suit a good brush down before squirting herself liberally with perfume. She was ready, but there was still half an hour before her boyfriend was due to arrive. She liked the word boyfriend and kept repeating it in her mind, feeling a warm glow spread inside her every time she did. She listened carefully for the sound of Derek arriving, and when she heard the car door slam, she rushed to open the front door.

Instead of the big old car he had driven before, Derek had drawn up outside her house in the smallest car she had ever seen.

‘What sort of car is that?’ she asked. She had never seen anything like it before.

‘It’s a Mini,’ he replied. ‘They’ve only just come on the market.’

‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she exclaimed, walking round it and examining it. ‘It’s so little!’

‘Do you like it?’ asked Derek.

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, hearing the pride and pleasure in Derek’s voice at her surprise. ‘I think it’s beautiful.’

He opened the passenger door for her with a flourish. She perched herself on the seat and swung her legs into the car with a movement she had seen illustrated in a magazine article on how to climb in and out of a car gracefully. Once she was seated he jumped into the driving seat, slammed his foot down on the accelerator and the tiny car gave a full-size roar as they drove off.

I’ve finally arrived, she thought happily. This must be the most desirable car in Belfast. Her knees almost touched the dashboard, and her elbow nudged the window, but nothing took away the thrill of being seen in something so chic. This was a car for the fashionable young and she was in it!

They drove through Belfast to the popular Candle Light Inn, a large restaurant and bar on the outskirts of the city. Derek quickly parked and they both got out. He took her arm in a proprietary way and led her inside to the bar.

His friends were already there. As soon as she saw them, Antoinette felt uncomfortable.

Charlotte was dressed simply in a grey skirt and pale-yellow twin set with low-heeled leather pumps. Her hair fell in natural waves and, except for a touch of pink lipstick, her face was bare of make-up. Neil wore a sports jacket and twill trousers. In their smart casual clothes, Derek’s friends had the aura of a carefree, comfortable and sophisticated life. Antoinette wanted to hide her white stilettos under the barstool. Suddenly her outfit felt cheap and her make-up too heavy.

As Derek made the introductions, she saw something else that made her heart sink. Knotted under Neil’s collar was a tie she recognized. It belonged to the boys’ grammar school in Coleraine–her father’s home town.

Neil’s older than me by several years, she thought, as fear crept over her. She did a quick bit of mental arithmetic. He would have been in his first year at university when the scandal about her broke out in Coleraine. Still, the sight of that tie made her nervous. No matter how much she tried to reassure herself, seeing that striped piece of fabric only inches from her face gave her a creeping dread that her secret was going to be exposed. She could still see the paragraph in the newspaper which informed the town of her father’s crime and her disgrace. It began: ‘Joseph Maguire, a mechanic residing in Coleraine, was today sentenced to four years for a serious offence against a minor.’ Although, as she was under age, her name was excluded from the paper, the whole town had been aware of whom the minor was. They knew, passed judgement and closed their doors to her.

She grasped her drink tightly, then took a deep swallow to try and stop her anxiety. She had seen rejection on too many faces not to know the result when people discovered her past. Stop it, she told herself. Just concentrate on enjoying the evening.

‘So what do you do?’ Neil looked friendly and interested as he asked the question that she had been dreading.

‘Oh, I’m taking a secretarial course next year,’ she replied airily. ‘At the moment I’m helping my mother run a coffee shop.’

Please don’t ask me what my father does or where I went to school, she prayed and it seemed that her prayers were answered, for, after a few minutes of polite small talk, the men
were more interested in talking about sport than delving into her past. She was left to have a stilted conversation with Charlotte, who was also thinking of taking a similar secretarial course once she had taken her final examinations at school.

‘Why don’t you take your course this year as well?’ she asked.

‘Because I’ve not saved up enough money’ was the truthful answer but not one Antoinette wanted to give. She improvised hastily. ‘Oh, it was that or hotel management so my mother suggested I took a year to think about it.’

Feeling she had handled that question without too many problems, she took another gulp of her drink, emptying her glass as she did so. Seeing her empty glass, Derek immediately ordered another round. He and Neil were drinking beer and Charlotte a Babycham. Without thinking, Antoinette asked for a vodka, her confidence-booster drink. Derek ordered it for her without question and she guzzled that one down quickly as well, then kept her hand over the glass in an attempt to hide its sudden emptiness.

A wave of depression engulfed her. These people had the life she had hoped for. It was only three years since she had been confident that she would go to university but that dream had shattered. Instead her education had been abruptly halted when she had been expelled from school. As soon as the authorities had learned what had happened to her, she was asked to leave immediately. If she had been able to stay on and study as she had planned, she would be one of them. As it was, the years since she had been forced to leave school had changed her from the studious girl who had taken pride in her school work to one who felt she had very little in common with those who were able to further their education.

The feeling of being out of place stayed with her all evening and later, in the restaurant, Antoinette hardly tasted the meal that was served. The room seemed to be stifling. The waiter kept topping up her glass as she drank the wine at a much faster pace than the others. She felt Derek glance at her as he noticed her consumption. She was embarrassed by it but still was unable to stop lifting the glass to her mouth.

After they’d all finished, Neil suggested that they have a final drink at the bar. Antoinette felt her head beginning to swim and as she walked the short distance to the bar her legs wobbled slightly in heels that now seemed even higher. She perched herself on the velvet bar stool, tucked her legs under it and tried to appear sober. Then, as she tried to follow the friendly buzz of conversation around her, the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise.

Suddenly she had the unnerving feeling that someone in the bar was watching her. She could feel eyes boring into her and reluctantly turned round.

It was her father.

He was standing with a group of men she had never seen before. Only a few feet separated her from him; the malevolence of his glare travelled across the distance between them. Completely unnerved, she turned back to her companions, gave a shaky smile and picked up her drink which she promptly downed in a single swallow.

‘Would you like another one?’ asked Neil courteously.

She sensed Derek’s growing disapproval. This was her third large vodka of the evening but the need she felt for it was stronger than her desire to please him.

‘Yes, please, same again,’ she replied with some bravado.

‘Charlotte?’ asked Neil.

‘Something soft for me, thanks,’ she said, adding quickly, ‘I’ve got studies to do tomorrow.’

Antoinette did not understand that the girl was trying to be kind to her with this excuse. Instead the word ‘studies’ just made her feel more wretched.

‘Oh, I’m free until tomorrow afternoon,’ she retorted in a voice she knew had become too loud. Then her neck prickled again. She felt her father’s presence behind her even before she turned fully around to face him.

Joe stood in front of her. ‘Antoinette, I want a word with you,’ he said. Not acknowledging her companions, he scowled and beckoned her to follow.

She slid off her seat and obeyed, with a sense of foreboding.

Antoinette saw her father as her new friends would see him: a middle-aged man whose bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks proclaimed him to be the drunk he was; an ignorant man, flashily dressed, who moved with the wide-legged walk of someone who thinks he appears sober; a drunk with a belligerent scowl and the harsh voice of the uneducated. She was instantly aware that he would never be welcomed in her friends’ homes.

‘What do you think youDre doing with that nancy boy and his friends?’ he asked. She saw his fist clench and knew he was restraining himself with difficulty from raising it to her. ‘Get yourself home to your mother.’

Antoinette clenched her fists in an imitation of his but in her case it was to control her fear.

‘Derek’s taking me home soon,’ she replied, knowing there was nothing she could say to appease him. She could see in his eyes the real reason for his rage. It was jealousy. The law might have punished him for his crime but the wish
to commit it was still there. Lurking in his eyes was an expression that belonged to something foul that lived within him.

‘Well, you go straight home, do you hear me?’

Derek appeared at her side. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked with concern in his voice. He had only met Antoinette’s mother and her charming smile and refined voice had evidently given no hint that she was married to the kind of man standing in front of him now.

‘Derek, this is my father, Joseph Maguire,’ she said quickly, praying that her father’s bad humour would not stop him being polite. ‘Daddy, this is Derek.’

Joe ignored Derek’s outstretched hand and glared at the young man, who involuntarily took a step back. Then it appeared that some thought of self-preservation entered Joe’s head. At the same time, both he and Antoinette noticed two men in dark suits, the unobtrusive security staff, watching the tableau unfold before them. After a moment, he contented himself with giving a snort of derision and then said in a voice which shook with barely controlled temper, ‘You bring her straight home now – and don’t be buying her any more drink!’

With that, Joe turned abruptly on his heel and walked away with that slightly drunken walk, his neck brick red with impotent rage. In his wake there was an appalled silence. Antoinette felt a flush creeping up her face – she knew everyone had heard what he had said – and she tried miserably to ease her humiliation with nervous chatter as she walked back to her seat.

She saw herself as she felt they all did: a girl dressed in cheap clothes wearing too much make-up; a girl who had drunk too much – as her father so obviously had as well.

They must see me as the daughter of a loud-mouthed, vulgar bully, she thought despairingly. And if his oil-stained, working man’s hands didn’t proclaim that he wasn’t one of them, then his bad manners certainly did.

‘Come on, Antoinette, I’ll take you home.’ Derek took her arm and held it firmly, more to make sure she walked in a straight line than to show affection, while she swayed and wobbled on her stilettos.

The car had hardly left the car park when she felt waves of nausea rising.

‘Stop the car, I’m going to be sick!’

Her words had immediate effect – there was no way Derek was risking his new Mini. The car came to a swift halt and he reached over her to open the passenger door and push her head out over the pavement.

Antoinette vomited on to the street and then wiped her mouth with a tissue. Sinking back into her seat, she wondered if anything else could possibly go wrong. Then another wave of nausea gripped her and she jerked her head back over the side of the car to be sick again.

Tears ran down her face, taking streaks of mascara with them.

‘Are you finished?’ asked Derek.

‘I think so,’ she whispered, ashamed.

‘Wind your window down,’ he instructed tersely. ‘The air might stop you being sick.’