Read Online Living With Evil by Cynthia Owen - Free Book Online Page A

family business.’
     
    I gasped, and then my lungs shrank in my chest so quickly I felt as if I’d been punched. ‘Yes, Mammy,’ I muttered, not meaning it. There was no way in the world I was going to wear that tatty dress when I was having one made especially for me. Mammy was wrong, and I was going to have to get her to change her mind. It wasn’t true that we didn’t accept charity. Most things I wore were left on the doorstep in bags. I wasn’t going to give in! It was even worth a beating, as long as I got to wear my new dress.
     
    The following week, Mother Clara asked me to stay behind after class one day. ‘I’m sure you’ll love the dress,’ she said kindly, opening a cupboard. It was neatly wrapped in fine tissue paper, and when I peeled the paper back I jumped in the air and threw my hands over my mouth to stop myself squealing.
     
    It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It had a huge puffed-out skirt and flowing, long sleeves, just like something out of a fairytale book. I knew exactly what I was going to do.
     
    Wrapping it up again, I cradled the dress carefully in my arms and took it straight home to show Mammy. ‘When she sees this, surely she won’t be able to refuse?’ I prayed, knowing deep down she was never going to change her mind.
     
    It probably wasn’t a great moment to talk to Mammy, but I had no time to spare. She looked very tired, lying in her bed. She was wearing smudged red lipstick, and I’d heard her argue for ages with Daddy last night. I thought back to how I had practised my Hail Mary and Our Father while they fought until late, asking God to make them stop, but it didn’t work.
     
    I remembered Mammy called Daddy a ‘fuckin’ bastard’, and he called her a ‘fuckin’ stupid cow’. She screeched so loudly I could hear her voice vibrate through my huddled-up body, and she kept saying the same things over and over again, getting louder and louder.
     
    When Daddy finally came to bed, I heard him use the toilet bucket and throw his clothes on the floor in a temper. I didn’t like it when he sounded so angry. He never spoke to me when I was in bed, and it wasn’t that I was afraid of him beating me, because he never beat me in bed.
     
    I just didn’t feel comfortable when he was in a bad mood, huffing and puffing and cursing Mammy under his breath. It made me itch my skin nervously, and I lay awake for hours.
     
    Now it was the next day, though, and my thoughts snapped back to the silken dress I had carried home from school like a precious baby clasped to my chest. I had to show Mammy. I had to get her to change her mind.
     
    I asked Mammy if she would like a cup of tea, thinking that might cheer her up after the row with Daddy last night. I put in two extra big sugars and carried the mug upstairs carefully. I gave her a smile when she pushed herself up in bed, took a deep breath and told her I had some great news.
     
    ‘Look, Mammy! Look at the dress Mother Clara made for me! I know you said we don’t accept charity but… isn’t it just the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen?’
     
    ‘It’s no different to the one I gave you,’ was her dead-eyed reaction. ‘You’re not to wear that new dress, Cynthia. I forbid it. You can take it back and tell that nun you already have a perfectly good dress, worn by all the Murphy girls.’
     
    ‘But, but…yes, Mammy,’ I said politely, but my mind was already ticking over, hatching another plot.
     
    I rehearsed my plan a hundred times in my head, and when my Communion day came I dutifully put on the old yellow dress.
     
    Daddy and Esther were already waiting in the hallway for me when I ran upstairs at the very last moment to show Mammy how I looked.
     
    She was staying in bed, even though it was a very special occasion celebrated across the whole town, but I didn’t care. It gave me just the excuse I needed to put my plan into action.
     
    There was an old nail jutting out of the wooden