When Daddy Comes Home (10 page)

She knew that Derek’s concern was more for the interior of his new car than for her feelings. They set off again, speeding along the winding country roads back to Lisburn. Antoinette sat huddled up beside him, her arms folded across her chest for warmth, and the rest of the journey passed in silence. She felt completely wretched by the time the car drew up outside the gate lodge.

‘Here we are then,’ he said coldly, when they’d arrived. Then, seeing Antoinette’s stricken face, he seemed to take pity on her. ‘Look, it’s a shame that the evening wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped. I know youDre upset by your father but his behaviour’s not your fault.’ He paused and then added, ‘He did have a point about how much you’d drunk, you know.’

She took some consolation from the fact that Derek put her father’s behaviour down to anger at her inebriated state, not to the fact that she was out with him.

‘You really shouldn’t drink so much,’ he said. He leant over and opened the door for her. It was no surprise that he didn’t kiss her – who would want to kiss someone who had just been sick? – but he made no mention of wanting to see her again either. Antoinette felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Of course he wouldn’t want to see her again after this – why would he? She could hardly blame him. And it had only been a matter of time before he discovered who she really was.

She climbed out of the Mini and walked unsteadily up the pathway that led to the house, hearing his car drive away before she opened the door. She looked round and saw his tail lights vanishing as his car turned a bend in the road and disappeared from sight. Antoinette felt miserably that with his departure he took the passport to the life she wanted.

F
or the next two days, Antoinette went around in a haze of dejection. On the third day Derek rang her. To her surprise, he was back to his usual kind and friendly self. His voice had none of the disapproval of a few days ago. Would she like to go out as usual this Saturday?

Her gloom disappeared and her spirits soared at the reprieve. She and Derek were still a couple – once again, she was a member of the privileged group of girls who had a boyfriend. She didn’t have to worry about spending Saturday nights at dance halls with the remaining girls in the group. The few who had not yet been successful in finding a boyfriend seemed more desperate every week.

Thank goodness that’s not me, she thought with relief. She had got used to going out with Derek. There wasn’t much thrill to be had getting ready to meet her girlfriends any more. The very thought of going to the dance halls with them had become depressing instead of exciting; she wanted to spend her Saturday nights with her boyfriend. It was so wonderful to be with someone she could talk to, who valued her and looked at her appreciatively. When she saw that look of admiration in his eyes she felt special.

Antoinette felt the first stirrings of love. It was exciting and frightening at the same time, and with it came a compulsion to confide in him. She wanted what most people want – to be loved for herself. She wanted Derek to know her, understand her life, then take her away from it and throw a thick cloak of protectiveness over her. She loved the feeling of being protected that she had when he kissed her and cuddled her – it never went any further than that, and it never occurred to her that it would, nor did she want it to. She was happy with things as they were.

The fantasy of a wonderful life where Derek cherished and protected her kept her company as she counted the hours till she saw him again. It was the last thought she had before she went to sleep and the first one when she awoke. One day, she hoped, this dream would become reality.

Antoinette started getting ready for her date with Derek on Saturday afternoon. As she washed her hair at the kitchen sink, she felt a rising excitement at the thought of seeing him. The usual dreams of the two of them living together, of safety and protection far away from her father, floated through her mind. She was a little hazy on exactly what living with Derek would entail. Antoinette, with all her experience of one side of life, had very little knowledge of the other side. She didn’t know much about adult relationships and her mother had never prepared her for growing up. Her knowledge had been gleaned from magazines and the fleeting company of the girls she had gone to the dances with and, at just under seventeen, she was far more naïve then her contemporaries. She could only imagine an indistinct fairy-tale scenario where she and Derek would live together happily ever after.

Now, with her date only a few hours away and her expectations running high, she had chosen her clothes and was enjoying painting her nails as she sprawled in front of the television.

Her mother was making tea and her bad humour could be read from the way she banged the crockery and her occasional snappish comment to her daughter.

‘Make sure you are in early. Your father doesn’t like you out late.’

Antoinette took no notice. Nothing was going to dent the pleasure of seeing Derek again. She watched
Juke Box Jury
, humming tunelessly along to the songs she recognized as she contently imagined her new life.

Her father had not mentioned the previous Saturday night again, and if anything he had seemed in a good humour the few times she had seen him since. Perhaps his fit of temper in front of her friends had defused some of his anger towards her. Whatever it was, Antoinette treasured the temporary lull in hostility.

She was startled when the door burst open and her father strode in heavily – the music had drowned out the sound of his car pulling up. She saw at once that his good humour had vanished. He smelt of drink and was scowling nastily at her.

‘What do you think youDre doing sitting around like that?’ he asked as he took in the fact that she was only wearing her dressing gown. His mouth quivered with anger and she quickly scrambled to her feet, clutching the edges of her gown as she did so. ‘And switch that damn television off – I don’t want to watch a lot of idiots dancing round to jungle music.’

‘Oh, come on, Daddy, it’s the only thing I watch. You’ve always got the sports on when youDre in. I did buy it, you know.’

He looked furiously at her as her words sunk in. It only took a moment for him to react; his face turned almost purple with
rage at the thought she had dared answer him back. A dark flush crept from chin to forehead, even tingeing the whites of his eyes with colour. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted in a voice that shook with fury, ‘Don’t you be telling me what to do in my house, my girl!’

Seeing the unmistakable menace on his face, she tried to move but she had left it too late. Antoinette cringed with fear as she saw his hand clench. She knew that she had gone too far and that his rage was now unleashed. The thick fingers of one hand grasped her shoulder while the other one swung back and hit her in the chest.

Tears of pain and fear blinded her as she gasped for breath. It was the first time he had touched her since he had been released from prison. Before then he had been vicious and violent towards her but since his prison stint Antoinette had believed that fear of reprisal would stop him. It seemed not. She could hear his rapid breathing and smell his sweat, and she shook with terror.

His eyes slid down her body, fixed on the gap in her dressing gown and a sudden gloating expression came over his face, a look she recognized from her childhood. He knew she was naked underneath. It was an expression of lust but something even worse lurked in its depths: it was an overwhelming need to inflict pain.

When she was a child, he had believed that she was his possession to do what he wished with. That belief had resulted in a prison sentence. In those split seconds, as their eyes met, she prayed that he would remember that.

He did.

With a snort of what sounded like disgust, he thrust her away from him. She staggered back but a rage came from some part of her. She finally wanted to retaliate. For the first
time she was not prepared to seek meekly the safety of her room. Sickened by his expression that made her feel soiled, she felt an answering fury burst out of her in a scream.

‘You touch me and I’ll tell the police! Go on! I dare you!’

At that moment, she wanted this confrontation, wanted him to hit her and the police to be called. Even the thought of being beaten did not deter her. No sooner had the words left her mouth, then his control snapped.

He pulled her towards him and as his fist rose in the air to inflict another blow, her mother stepped in between them.

Small as she was, Ruth was not frightened of the man she had married nor was she scared for her daughter. But she was scared of scandal and Antoinette was only too aware of what had motivated her mother to intervene.

‘Don’t, Paddy,’ she said urgently as she laid a hand on his arm.

Her voice seemed to calm him and he stopped, panting, and lowered his fist. He let go of Antoinette, pushing her away from him, and glared at her. Then he said to his wife in a voice of fury, ‘I want her out of the house, to be sure, when she starts that damn secretarial course she keeps talking about. She’ll expect us to keep her, no doubt. Well, she can go to those friends of hers she thinks are so important. Where’s she going tonight? You’ve let her have her way too long.’ As the words left his saliva-flecked mouth, a tidal wave of rage overcame him. He no longer seemed to fear reprisals as he brushed Ruth to one side, grabbed his daughter again and shook her. ‘I want you out of this house – you’ve caused enough trouble!’ he roared. ‘YouDre to pack and leave, do you hear me?’

And with that he dragged her to the stairs and shoved her up them. As she hurriedly clambered up, trying to escape, he aimed another blow at her back. She ran upstairs to the
shelter of her bedroom and threw herself on the bed. From below, she could hear his voice still raised in anger, then her mother’s softer tones as she tried to placate him. She heard the front door slam and the engine of his car start up, announcing his departure.

A few minutes passed, then there was the sound of her mother’s steps on the stairs. The door opened and Ruth came into her bedroom.

Antoinette was sitting on the bed, her mind a blank. As usual, when her father began his aggression against her, she shut down all her emotions and responses. It was the only way to cope. Nevertheless, as her mother entered, she raised her eyes hopefully. Surely Ruth would see her husband for what he really was now. He had hit her, threatened to throw her out, for the smallest of reasons. Was that fair or just?

One look at her mother’s cold face dashed any expectations she had. Any remaining hope that Ruth would take her side died completely with her mother’s opening words.

‘Antoinette, do you have to annoy your father so? I’m tired of trying to keep the peace. I’ve spoken to him and he’s agreed that you can stay here until you go to Butlins. That’s in two weeks. You’ll save plenty of money there so you can get a bedsitter in town when you return. I can’t have you both under the same roof. You just can’t stop yourself upsetting him, can you? It’s because you are so alike, I suppose.’

‘Alike?’ she echoed in disbelief.

‘Yes, dear, you take after the Maguires. You always want to be out, you can’t control your tempers and youDre both selfish.’ She saw the shocked look on her daughter’s face at this character assassination and hastily continued. ‘Oh, yes, dear, you are. Look at how many times when Daddy was away you left me sitting here alone. Still, we won’t talk about that. He’s
my husband and you are quite old enough to fend for yourself so it’s you that will have to leave.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed and said more gently, ‘It’s better this way. You can come and visit, of course. It’s just I want you to get your own place.’

And Antoinette understood that, once again, that her mother had made her choice.

After her mother had left, she stayed on the bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She was transported back to her early years, when she was small, terrified and absolutely helpless. The frightened child was back, desperate for someone to take away the pain and fear and to make her feel better. Surely there was someone who could help her.

Yes, she thought. There is someone. I’m not alone anymore. I’ll tell Derek, that’s what I’ll do. He cares for me. He wants to protect me. I know he’ll help me and make me feel safe.

Comforted by the thought, she allowed a small smile to cross her face. At last, there was someone who could take away her burden.

D
erek put his arms around her as she wept. She had thrown herself into the front seat of the Mini and the minute she was in the safety of the car, she had given way to her misery with shoulder-shaking sobs.

‘What’s wrong, Antoinette? What is it?’ he said with a worried expression. He was obviously concerned about her but at a loss to know what to do now that the vivacious young woman he had been dating for the last three months had been replaced by this deeply upset girl who looked younger than usual.

Antoinette tried, but there was nothing she could do to stop the sobs and she was unable to get a word out.

‘We can’t go to the restaurant – youDre in no state for it.’ He frowned. ‘We’d better go back to my place.’

She knew that he shared a flat with a friend, but they had never been there. If they weren’t in a restaurant or at a dance, they were in his car. It was there they kissed and petted before he took her home. He had never tried to get any further with her than that, and Antoinette knew it was because he thought she was a girl he might get serious about. For a boy to take a girl that he respected to bed was tantamount to an engagement and they weren’t ready for
that yet, no matter what Antoinette’s rosy daydreams were.

They drove to his flat and he took her inside. It was empty – his friend was out – and he led her gently to the settee and sat her down. She had stopped crying now but her breathing was still irregular and her body still shaking.

‘I’ll get you a drink,’ said Derek kindly. ‘You look like you need one this time.’

He poured her a stiff measure of whiskey, topped it up with cola and handed it to her. ‘Drink that. It’ll do you good.’ He poured the same for himself, then sat down next to her and put his arm round her shoulders.

With shaking hands, she lifted the drink to her mouth and took a sip.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Now, tell me what the problem is.’

She lifted a tearstained face to his. ‘It’s my father. He hit me.’ The tears came back again, and she wiped them away with one hand and took a deep swallow of her drink.

From Derek’s expression, it was clear he didn’t know much about families where fathers hit their daughters. He had had a sheltered, middle-class upbringing and no one he knew rowed violently like that. ‘Why did he hit you?’

‘Because I told him the television was mine.’

‘And?’

‘He hit me in the breast.’ Fresh tears flowed.

‘Was your mother there?’

‘Yes, and she did nothing as usual. She was in the kitchen and she didn’t see where he hit me. It wouldn’t have made any difference if she had.’

Derek frowned. ‘He’s hit you before?’

‘Yes.’

‘Look, answer me this – does your father ever hit your mother?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? If he’s violent, why is it only with you?’

‘Because she would leave him. She can control him when she wants.’ And with that sentence, fresh sobs burst out of her.

Derek sat waiting for the new outburst to cease. He seemed confused and uncomfortable, fumbling for something to say. At last he said, ‘Well, if he hits you, why do you stay there? You could leave home now, couldn’t you? After all, you work and earn your own money. And now that your little dog has gone, there’s nothing to keep you there, is there?’

The conversation was not going the way Antoinette had hoped.

Where is his offer of help, she thought desperately. When is he going to tell me that he’ll take care of me and look after me?

All of a sudden, she wanted him to understand the serious nature of what had really happened. Surely then he would be completely outraged and that alone would make him want to take care of her.

‘The look on his face when he hit me was the same as before he went to prison,’ she said slowly.

‘He’s been in prison?’ asked Derek, surprised. ‘What for?’

‘For making me pregnant,’ she whispered. Immediately, she felt his body stiffen. He withdrew his arm from her shoulders and turned to face her.

‘What did you say?’ he asked in a low voice.

The look of stunned disbelief on his face that had suddenly grown pale made her want to take back her words but she knew it was too late. And without being able to retract them she found the story of her childhood pouring from her. She told him about the years of abuse she had suffered at the hands
of her father. The only other times she had spoken of it was first to the police, once to a teacher and later to the psychiatrists. This was the first time she had ever confided in someone she cared about and who she believed cared for her.

But to her horror, she didn’t see sympathy, understanding and compassion in Derek’s eyes. Instead she saw repugnance as he realized that the unspoilt virgin he had fallen in love with was someone very different, someone who repulsed him with what had happened to her. She was no longer a pretty, amusing companion but someone sordid and ugly.

Looking at him through her tears, she saw and recognized the revulsion that she had seen so often in people’s eyes when she was fourteen years old and the outside world learned what had happened to her. She heard the echo of her father’s threats repeated time and again when she was a child: ‘People won’t love you if you tell, Antoinette. Everyone will blame you.’

In her imagination she saw the looks of disdain on people’s faces as they turned away from her and slammed their doors. She saw the children she had been to school with forbidden to talk to her as though by acknowledging of her presence they too would be contaminated.

Why was I so stupid as to think anything would be different now, she thought miserably.

She felt that all she could do was try to gather the remnants of her dignity. She sat up straight and stiffened her back bone. There was no point in talking any more. She knew that she had taken a gamble and lost. ‘Are you going to drive me home?’ she asked.

‘No. I’ll call you a taxi and give you the money.’ His face contorted with the effort of wanting to communicate something to her. She knew that he was by nature a kind boy but that he was a product of his upbringing. He believed that nice
girls did not sleep around and that unwanted pregnancies resulted in marriage or disgrace. He had probably never heard of a girl having sex with her father, never knew that such a crime existed. She watched conflicting emotions pass over his face until finally he spoke.

‘Look, you have to leave home. If I went to the police, your father could be arrested with his record but that wouldn’t help you any. There’s only one thing that can help you and that’s to leave their house.’

She stared back at him. She was just as eager now for the conversation to end as he was.

He continued, ‘YouDre going to work in Butlins in the next few weeks so don’t go back.’

‘If I do that, will you keep seeing me?’ she said, unable to keep the imploring note out of her voice. But she knew the answer even as she asked.

‘No.’ He looked at her then and she could see clearly that his affection for her had died. ‘I want to get married and have children and I could never marry you. Do you want to know what I think?’

She didn’t but she knew he was going to tell her.

‘When you meet someone again, don’t tell them about your father. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell your friends and definitely don’t tell men – not if you ever want to have another boyfriend, that is.’

They sat in stony silence until the taxi came. Antoinette did not want to be told that he never wanted to see her again. She just wanted to leave before the control over her facial muscles deserted her. Then she remembered how she had coped before, when she was just a girl of fourteen. Then she had separated her emotions, not allowing reality to penetrate her consciousness. That, she decided, was what she would have to do again.