Daddy Dearest by Paul Southern Read Free Book Online Page A

out of her pink lips and bite me. I used to brush them on my way past, making for the soft pastures of her neck where I knew I was safe, and where I had more success arousing her. This was the seventies, when everyone was a bit loose under the collar, and Bunny more than most. She said it was too much for her and would try to push me away. Deep down, I think she knew the real reason I didn’t kiss her, and it must have pained her; it pained me. When I’m sad, I sometimes think of Bunny. I hope she thinks of me, although I don’t flatter myself too much. I’m pretty forgettable. If not for the police officer, I would have disappeared from her memory for good, I’m sure.
    We were down by the canal, under a bridge, I think, and I had just had one of those kisses when we heard a footfall behind us and turned to look. The officer was carrying a truncheon and was measuring it against his other palm. Back then, I was too young to make a connection, but now, when I look back, it seems so obvious. Bunny had smoothed her dress down over her thighs and both of us looked pretty guilty. We didn’t know how long he’d been there but we knew we hadn’t done anything; we were just kids. He asked us to turn round and told us to put our hands on the canal rail. The water was green and brackish and you couldn’t see anything in it. It was like pea soup. We glanced over at each other, wondering what was going to happen, when we felt his hands on us, searching our pockets.
    ‘You know what you can get for lewd behaviour, don’t you?’
    ‘We weren’t doing anything.’
    ‘That’s not what I saw, sonny. I saw you with your hands up the girl’s dress. Normal people come walking down here. Decent people. They don’t want to be stumbling over the likes of you. There’s a time and a place for everything, and this isn’t it.’
    In those days, I had more balls in me - I had a lot more of everything - and tried to protest; I hadn’t yet realised it did no good. I wanted to show Bunny I wasn’t just a kid. Well, he wasn’t having it. He was a big, slovenly guy - he wouldn’t have made the grade now-– and pressed me up against the railing and told me if I gave him any more cheek, he’d put me in the canal. It’s a lie when they tell you it was better then. It was dirtier and people got away with more, that’s all.
    He told me to turn around and keep quiet. I knew he was doing something because Bunny kept jolting. Later, she told me, he’d lifted her dress. I don’t know what he made of her slender, white legs and the mole at the top of her thighs. Maybe it was better than he got at home - if he got any. She stood there for a few minutes and looked in the canal with me. I knew I should have said something or done something, but I was scared. I was scared for myself and I was scared for her. More shamefully, I was scared of authority. That’s been with me all my life. I’ve respected it too much. I thought it would keep things the way they were, but nothing can do that. My daughter challenges my authority the way I’d never have dared. I praised her for it, in a way; I saw it as sticking up for herself. I didn’t want her to be put against the railings like Bunny was.
    When the officer had gone, Bunny smoothed her dress down again and we looked at each other sheepishly. Neither of us knew what to say; neither of us really knew what had happened. A few weeks later, I got my own sight of her thighs. It was in her bedroom at home and I was a quivering wreck. I wondered what would happen if her parents came back and found us. I’m not sure how far we got, but I remember the shock I got when the dress came over her head and I saw the design on her blue panties. On the side was a picture of a fluffy, pink rabbit. It had two buck teeth and a carrot in its paws. Did Bunny get the irony? She certainly wasn’t the most stupid girl I’ve ever been with - she may even have been the nicest. I like to think it was an oversight on her