she said at last.
‘I’ll let you through in a minute,’ he growled and caught hold of her chin with one rough hand, lifting it so that she had no choice but to look into his face. His pale blue eyes were bleary and bloodshot, there was a day’s growth of stubble on his chin and his breath stank of stale beer so that it turned her stomach.
‘Let me go,’ she said, but quietly. She didn’t want her mother to hear any of this, or the twins either come to that.
Alf ignored her plea, moving closer so that his body was just touching hers and Rose stood pressed back against the sink, feeling some of the water she had splashed soaking into her blouse at the back. ‘Haven’t I told you I don’t want anyone in here?’ he asked softly. ‘I don’t want your mother disturbed by anyone. I’ve told you that, haven’t I?’ He always used Mam for an excuse, thought Rose despairingly.
‘She wasn’t, Dad. Mam never woke up.’ Her father was only slightly taller than Rose and now he put a foot forward, trying to insinuate it between her two feet. She pressed her legs together. ‘Behave, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘Behave yourself or I’ll … I’ll …’
‘You’ve been naughty. Don’t you think you deserve a good hiding when you’ve done something I told you not to do? Or will I punish you in some other way, is that what you want?’
‘Dad!’ She turned slightly and took a firmer grip on the pan handle. It shook and a splash of water came out and wet the front of her blouse. ‘So help me, I’ll hit you with this if you don’t leave me alone!’
‘No, you won’t, you don’t want to disturb your mam, now do you?’
He must still be drunk, she thought wildly. Oh, God, what was she going to do? He was edging into the pantry, trying to close the door behind him with one hand, but the place was so tiny there was hardly room. He pressed even harder against her and looked down to where the wet material of her blouse outlined the vee between her breasts. Rose tipped the pan and water and pieces of turnip cascaded down the front of his trousers. He still had one hand behind him, fumbling with the door, when suddenly it was pushed open so unexpectedly that he was taken off balance and fell past Rose into the tiny space before the end shelf.
‘Alf Sharpe, you hacky, dirty, filthy, bloody man! What are you doing?’ It was a screech rather than a shout and neither Rose nor her father could believe it when they saw Sarah standing in the doorway in her nightie, her hair in grey wisps all around her face which was beetroot-red, eyes almost popping out of her head, and all the while the lump on her neck was swelling and pulsing, evil and malignant. She was so mad with rage she had a strength far beyond her normal powers as she caught hold of Rose and pulled her out of the pantry and behind her.
‘No, Mam!’ cried Rose, starting back towards her. ‘No, it wasn’t anything. We just had an accident with the water. Come on back to bed, Mam, you’ll catch your death!’ Behind their mother the twins were standing, clinging to each other, screaming with fright. They jumped back, their cries even louder as Sarah Sharpe suddenly collapsed on to the brown polished linoleum which covered the floor, head back and eyes rolling. Rose bent over her, lifting her head and holding her fast. Her mother was breathing in sharp, shallow gasps, her face had gone from red to a pale parchment, but she was alive. She moaned slightly and her head rolled into the crook of Rose’s arm.
Rose looked back at her father. ‘Help me get her into bed,’ she shouted at him. Alf, who had been standing with his mouth open, seemingly numb with shock, came to her and between them they carried Sarah through to her bed in the other room.
‘Get the doctor, Dad, go on!’ Rose shouted as she pulled the covers over her mother’s rigid form.
‘Yes. Yes, I’ll go now,’ he replied, a meek, frightened little man now. He pulled a coat over his wet
‘I’ll let you through in a minute,’ he growled and caught hold of her chin with one rough hand, lifting it so that she had no choice but to look into his face. His pale blue eyes were bleary and bloodshot, there was a day’s growth of stubble on his chin and his breath stank of stale beer so that it turned her stomach.
‘Let me go,’ she said, but quietly. She didn’t want her mother to hear any of this, or the twins either come to that.
Alf ignored her plea, moving closer so that his body was just touching hers and Rose stood pressed back against the sink, feeling some of the water she had splashed soaking into her blouse at the back. ‘Haven’t I told you I don’t want anyone in here?’ he asked softly. ‘I don’t want your mother disturbed by anyone. I’ve told you that, haven’t I?’ He always used Mam for an excuse, thought Rose despairingly.
‘She wasn’t, Dad. Mam never woke up.’ Her father was only slightly taller than Rose and now he put a foot forward, trying to insinuate it between her two feet. She pressed her legs together. ‘Behave, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘Behave yourself or I’ll … I’ll …’
‘You’ve been naughty. Don’t you think you deserve a good hiding when you’ve done something I told you not to do? Or will I punish you in some other way, is that what you want?’
‘Dad!’ She turned slightly and took a firmer grip on the pan handle. It shook and a splash of water came out and wet the front of her blouse. ‘So help me, I’ll hit you with this if you don’t leave me alone!’
‘No, you won’t, you don’t want to disturb your mam, now do you?’
He must still be drunk, she thought wildly. Oh, God, what was she going to do? He was edging into the pantry, trying to close the door behind him with one hand, but the place was so tiny there was hardly room. He pressed even harder against her and looked down to where the wet material of her blouse outlined the vee between her breasts. Rose tipped the pan and water and pieces of turnip cascaded down the front of his trousers. He still had one hand behind him, fumbling with the door, when suddenly it was pushed open so unexpectedly that he was taken off balance and fell past Rose into the tiny space before the end shelf.
‘Alf Sharpe, you hacky, dirty, filthy, bloody man! What are you doing?’ It was a screech rather than a shout and neither Rose nor her father could believe it when they saw Sarah standing in the doorway in her nightie, her hair in grey wisps all around her face which was beetroot-red, eyes almost popping out of her head, and all the while the lump on her neck was swelling and pulsing, evil and malignant. She was so mad with rage she had a strength far beyond her normal powers as she caught hold of Rose and pulled her out of the pantry and behind her.
‘No, Mam!’ cried Rose, starting back towards her. ‘No, it wasn’t anything. We just had an accident with the water. Come on back to bed, Mam, you’ll catch your death!’ Behind their mother the twins were standing, clinging to each other, screaming with fright. They jumped back, their cries even louder as Sarah Sharpe suddenly collapsed on to the brown polished linoleum which covered the floor, head back and eyes rolling. Rose bent over her, lifting her head and holding her fast. Her mother was breathing in sharp, shallow gasps, her face had gone from red to a pale parchment, but she was alive. She moaned slightly and her head rolled into the crook of Rose’s arm.
Rose looked back at her father. ‘Help me get her into bed,’ she shouted at him. Alf, who had been standing with his mouth open, seemingly numb with shock, came to her and between them they carried Sarah through to her bed in the other room.
‘Get the doctor, Dad, go on!’ Rose shouted as she pulled the covers over her mother’s rigid form.
‘Yes. Yes, I’ll go now,’ he replied, a meek, frightened little man now. He pulled a coat over his wet
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