don’t know anything, Dad. She left me outside the chip shop and made me promise not to say anything. She put me in an awkward position.”
“I know, son, and I promise you’re not in trouble. We just need to know where she’s been, and what might have happened.” He slipped his hand across the table but stopped it before the fingers touched Connor’s sleeve.
“All I know is she was with some boy. I don’t know his name, or where he lives, but Molly’s smitten with him.” His use of that antiquated word— smitten —was almost comical under the circumstances. It was a word Robert himself used often, and his son had obviously picked it up without realising. Robert felt a strange kind of pride.
“Okay, son. We’ll just leave it at that. You finish your breakfast and I’ll go and talk to your sister. He stood and pushed away from the table, still light-headed and slightly nauseous. He needed a shower, and to brush his teeth. He needed to wash the stink of Monica Corbeau’s mouth off his cock.
“Sorry, Dad.” Connor’s voice was tiny, like that of an infant.
Robert walked away, not sure what else he could say. He felt close to tears.
He climbed the stairs and went to their room, then stood outside and listened at the door. He could hear Molly crying, and was afraid if he went inside he would be unable to stop himself from screaming at her. He thought of that couple in the bar, practically eating each other’s faces, and felt his stomach flip. He imagined some boy’s hands all over his daughter’s body, and feared for her because of her lack of street smarts. He had always done his best to protect his children, and to bring them up in what he thought of as the right way. This inevitably meant they were both a little naive, and some of their friends knew much more about the seamier side of life…but was it so wrong to try and retain a sense of purity within the sanctity of your family, to do your best to keep the tide of filth at bay?
Oh, God , he thought. What if she’s pregnant? What if…what if she gave away her virginity in a back lane and finds out she’s up the duff?
He gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead against the door. The wood was cold and hard, but still it felt as if his head would pass right through it if he tried. The edges of his world had become less rigid, all borders were now blurred. Nothing was the same; everything had changed. Fact and fiction had become part of the same experience, reshaping the world into a strange and frightening place.
He pushed open the door and went inside. Molly was sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her T-shirt stretched over her kneecaps. She was staring at the bed, her face streaked with tears. She looked about four years old.
“Hello, love.” All the anger had gone now; he felt calm and detached, buoyed on currents of warm air. Things were going wrong, going haywire, and all he could do was attempt to limit or contain the damage. “How are you feeling?”
“Nothing happened, Daddy.” She had not called him that in years, not since she was tiny. “We were just walking around, holding hands. I was upset because you and Mum had that fight, and Ethan listened to me. That’s all. We just walked and talked.”
“Are you sure? Do you promise?” His voice was contracting, becoming small and quiet.
Molly looked up at him, her face a pale, drawn mask. Now she looked so much older than fourteen, and he felt like weeping for all the potential hurt that lay ahead in her future. He wished he could take care of her for the rest of her life. “I promise, Daddy.” Once again, he knew deep down she was lying: all that remained a mystery was the extent of the lie. He hoped it was a small one, a little white lie, and that its effects would be negligible. He could not judge her for her dishonesty, not in his current position. Not only was he lying to Molly, to Connor, and to Sarah, but he was also lying to himself.
He was the
“I know, son, and I promise you’re not in trouble. We just need to know where she’s been, and what might have happened.” He slipped his hand across the table but stopped it before the fingers touched Connor’s sleeve.
“All I know is she was with some boy. I don’t know his name, or where he lives, but Molly’s smitten with him.” His use of that antiquated word— smitten —was almost comical under the circumstances. It was a word Robert himself used often, and his son had obviously picked it up without realising. Robert felt a strange kind of pride.
“Okay, son. We’ll just leave it at that. You finish your breakfast and I’ll go and talk to your sister. He stood and pushed away from the table, still light-headed and slightly nauseous. He needed a shower, and to brush his teeth. He needed to wash the stink of Monica Corbeau’s mouth off his cock.
“Sorry, Dad.” Connor’s voice was tiny, like that of an infant.
Robert walked away, not sure what else he could say. He felt close to tears.
He climbed the stairs and went to their room, then stood outside and listened at the door. He could hear Molly crying, and was afraid if he went inside he would be unable to stop himself from screaming at her. He thought of that couple in the bar, practically eating each other’s faces, and felt his stomach flip. He imagined some boy’s hands all over his daughter’s body, and feared for her because of her lack of street smarts. He had always done his best to protect his children, and to bring them up in what he thought of as the right way. This inevitably meant they were both a little naive, and some of their friends knew much more about the seamier side of life…but was it so wrong to try and retain a sense of purity within the sanctity of your family, to do your best to keep the tide of filth at bay?
Oh, God , he thought. What if she’s pregnant? What if…what if she gave away her virginity in a back lane and finds out she’s up the duff?
He gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead against the door. The wood was cold and hard, but still it felt as if his head would pass right through it if he tried. The edges of his world had become less rigid, all borders were now blurred. Nothing was the same; everything had changed. Fact and fiction had become part of the same experience, reshaping the world into a strange and frightening place.
He pushed open the door and went inside. Molly was sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her T-shirt stretched over her kneecaps. She was staring at the bed, her face streaked with tears. She looked about four years old.
“Hello, love.” All the anger had gone now; he felt calm and detached, buoyed on currents of warm air. Things were going wrong, going haywire, and all he could do was attempt to limit or contain the damage. “How are you feeling?”
“Nothing happened, Daddy.” She had not called him that in years, not since she was tiny. “We were just walking around, holding hands. I was upset because you and Mum had that fight, and Ethan listened to me. That’s all. We just walked and talked.”
“Are you sure? Do you promise?” His voice was contracting, becoming small and quiet.
Molly looked up at him, her face a pale, drawn mask. Now she looked so much older than fourteen, and he felt like weeping for all the potential hurt that lay ahead in her future. He wished he could take care of her for the rest of her life. “I promise, Daddy.” Once again, he knew deep down she was lying: all that remained a mystery was the extent of the lie. He hoped it was a small one, a little white lie, and that its effects would be negligible. He could not judge her for her dishonesty, not in his current position. Not only was he lying to Molly, to Connor, and to Sarah, but he was also lying to himself.
He was the
Similar Books
