Don’t Tell Mummy by Toni Maguire Read Free Book Online Page A

anger. After one of my visits to the farm I returned with a bantam hen.
    ‘You can take that back, my girl,’ were his first words on seeing her.
    For once my mother took my side.
    ‘Oh, let her keep her, Paddy,’ she cajoled, using her pet name for him. ‘She can go outside with the other hens, and Antoinette can have her eggs.’
    He snorted but said no more and ‘June’ the little bantam became my pet. She seemed to know she was special for nearly every morning she came inside to lay my breakfast egg.
    Easter gave my father time off from work, and my mother, I know, was hoping for a day out in the car. We saton Easter Friday waiting for him, me with nervous flutters in my stomach and my mother with a look of hope on her face. When she heard the scrunch of gravel her face lit up. The jovial father entered, and kissed her on the cheek. A box containing an Easter egg was given to me, a box of assorted chocolates for her.
    ‘I’ve made a special meal,’ she told him. ‘I’ll just lock up the chickens and then I’ll serve it up.’
    Humming happily under her breath she left the room, leaving us together.
    Knowing his mood swings I glanced warily in his direction, but for once he was smiling.
    ‘Come here Antoinette,’ he commanded, patting the cushion beside him.
    His arm encircled my waist, drawing me onto the settee. Then I felt his arm around my shoulder as he pulled me closer. Craving his affection I snuggled up to him. Could it be, I wondered hopefully, that he has stopped being angry with me?
    Sensations of being protected and safe swept over me as I cuddled closer, feeling so happy that his affection towards me had at last reappeared. He stroked my hair.
    ‘You’re my pretty little girl, Antoinette,’ he murmured as his other hand started caressing my back. Like a small animal I snuggled even closer. ‘Do you love your daddy?’
    All memories of his temper left me as, for the first time in months, I felt loved by him. I nodded happily. The hand on my back slid lower, then moved gently to the top of my legs. It ran down to the hem of my skirt and I felt the same calloused palm that only a year ago had spanked me viciously, sliding over my knee. My body stiffened. One hand tightened on top of my head so I couldn’t move, whilethe other slid across my face and gripped my chin. His mouth came down on mine. His tongue forced its way through my lips. I felt slobber run down my chin and the smell of stale whiskey and cigarette breath filled my nostrils. My feelings of safety left me for ever, replaced by revulsion and fear. He released me abruptly, held me by the shoulders and glared into my face.
    ‘Don’t tell Mummy,’ he said, giving me a slight shake. ‘This is our secret, Antoinette, do you hear me?’
    ‘Yes, Daddy,’ I whispered. ‘I won’t tell.’
    But I did. I felt secure in my mother’s love. I loved her and she, I knew, loved me. She would tell him to stop.
    She didn’t.

Chapter Five
    M y eyes blinked as I forced my brain back into the present and into the hospice. I unscrewed the flask once more, poured myself the last of the vodka and lit another cigarette.
    ‘Now do you remember?’ Antoinette whispered. ‘Do you really believe your mother loved you?’
    ‘She did,’ I protested weakly.
    ‘But she loved him more,’ came the reply.
    Trying to dam the floodgates as the memories struggled to get through, I took a deep swallow of vodka and inhaled my nicotine sedative.
    Through the haze Antoinette held up an unwanted picture; the focus was too sharp for me to be able to force it away with pure willpower.
    As though it were yesterday, I saw the room inside the thatched house with two people in it. A woman was sitting on a chintz-covered settee with a small child standing, facing her. With clenched fists and imploring eyes the child drew on all her reserves for the confrontation and searched for the words to describe an adult act.
    It was the week after that kiss. Antoinette had