Past Praying For (41 page)

`
He
went
to
her
and
helped
her
out
of
the
chair
,
his
arm
round
her
,
protecting
her
,
I
suppose
.
She
was
ungainly
in
late
pregnancy
,
and
She
stumbled
a
little
.
Deliberately
,
probably
.
That
would
have
been
typical
of
her
.

`
As
my
father
steadied
her
he
glared
at
me
.
He
had
warm
blue
eyes
,
you
know
,
with
crinkles
of
good
humour
at
the
corner
—
kind
eyes
.
But
they
were
savage
now
.
I'd
never
seen
him
look
like
that
before
.

‘"
We
have
been
patient
,
and
more
than
patient
."
That
was
what
he
said
,
and
he
said
it
terribly
.
Then
, "
Enough
is
enough
."

`
When
they
drove
off
to
the
hospital
in
his
old
battered
Land
-
Rover
,
the
stones
spurted
up
from
the
gravel
at
the
side
of
the
cottage
as
he
turned
it
too
fast
.
'

`How did you feel then about what you had done?'

`
I
didn't
care
.
I
was
glad
,
I
think
.
Yes
,
I
was
glad
I
had
hurt
her
,
because
She
had
taken
my
father
away
from
me
.

`
I
said
to
my
brother
, "
Stand
with
me
.
Stand
together
and
we
can
drive
her
away
.
She'll
find
somebody
else
,
just
the
way
Mum
did
."

`
He
nodded
at
me
solemnly
,
as
if
he
agreed
,
then
put
his
thumb
in
his
mouth
.
Well
,
lie
was
only
five
,
after
all
,
four
years
younger
than
me
.

`
He
had
missed
Mum
,
of
course
.
I
hadn't
.
She
was
a
wicked
woman
,
my
mother
.
There
were
—
men
,
men
who
came
when
Dad
was
away
doing
a
shoot
,
when
she
would
send
us
to
play
in
the
woods
and
lock
the
door
.
She
hit
me
for
telling
Dad
that
.
Then
she
just
left
us
.
I
didn't
care
.
I'd
taught
myself
not
to
care
,
but
I
had
to
try
to
teach
my
brother
.
If
you
don't
care
,
they
can't
hurt
you
.
Most
people
are
a
lot
more
than
nine
years
old
by
the
time
they
work
that
out
,
aren't
they
?
'

`How did your father manage after she left?'

`Oh
,
it
was
good
,
it
was
good
.
We
were
close
,
just
the
three
of
us
.
A
team
.
We
didn't
need
anyone
else
.
We
managed
somehow
,
the
food
and
the
cleaning
and
the
laundry
and
we
laughed
a
lot
,
though
my
brother
cried
sometimes
at
bedtime
.
I
didn't
like
him
to
cry
; "
You've
got
me
,"
I
used
to
say
to
him
in
the
darkness
of
our
bedroom
. "
No
matter
what
happens
you've
always
got
me
and
I've
always
got
you
."

‘"
Forever
and
ever
and
ever
?"
he
would
say
,
and
I
would
say
, "
Forever
and
ever
and
ever
,"
and
he
would
stop
crying
and
go
to
sleep
.

`
Then
She
came
.
'

`Who was she?'

`
She
was
working
in
the
pub
he
went
to
on
a
Saturday
night
.
Oh
,
not
that
he
was
a
drinking
man
,
my
father
,
but
I
suppose
it
was
a
bit
of
company
for
him
.
She
got
her
claws
into
him
,
and
then
he
married
her
and
ruined
everything
.
She
would
look
after
us
,
be
our
mother
now
,
he
said
.
But
we
had
him
;
what
did
we
need
a
mother for
?
Anyway
,
we
still
had
the
chores
to
do
,
because
She
wanted
to
keep
her
fat
little
white
paws
soft
and
paint
the
nails
glossy
and
red
as
if
they'd
been
dipped
in
fresh
blood
.

`
She
hated
me
,
and
She
complained
to
my
father
all
the
time
about
what
I
did
,
or
didn't
do
.
He
talked
to
me
—
or
at
least
,
he
said
words
to
me
,
but
I
couldn't
talk
back
and
reach
him
,
with
her
in
the
way
.
She
circled
round
me
,
killing
my
laughter
,
killing
my
comfort
.
Trying
to
kill
my
soul
.
'