Read Online Separation, The by Dinah Jefferies - Free Book Online Page A

Mr Oliver, but just as we reached the car, Veronica called me over to where she stood beside him. ‘I missed you, Emma. Let’s have a day out soon. Just you and me.’
    She smelt of lavender and starch, and wanted to hug me. When she put her arms round me I could tell she was lonely, but held back. She got into the car and waved a pink-gloved hand, while her brother put his hand on my bottom and patted it. I had to put up with it. There was nothing I could do. I’d have said something to Mum, but not Dad.
    ‘Toodleoo. See you soon,’ Mr Oliver said with a grin, and showed a mouthful of very white teeth and bright pink gums.
    ‘Not if I can help it,’ I whispered, and pulled a face at his meaty smell. Then, feeling my stomach rumble, I turned to Father and said, ‘Can I have a scone now?’
    He looked at me with angry eyes. ‘Not ruddy likely. Upstairs to your room.’
    I climbed the stairs one at a time, instead of bolting up, my heart thumping as he followed.
    ‘Bend over,’ he said, when we got to my room.
    I bent over and stared at the threadbare carpet, wishing myself a million miles away. It was completely silent in the room. I thought he might smack me, but took a sharp breath when I heard him undo his belt.
    I was trembling, but tried not to show any fear. Suddenly there was a sharp sting across the back of my thighs. The faded pattern of roses and leaves on the carpet leapt about and began to blur. I blinked away the tears, and dug a thumbnail into the fleshy part of my hand.
    ‘Don’t.’ The sting came again. ‘Let me.’ Whack. ‘Ever see you.’ Whack. ‘Disobey me like that again.’
    I didn’t cry then either, but when I stood up and saw his face turn red as a tomato, probably redder than my sore bottom, I looked straight at him and spoke in as clear a voice as I could. ‘No, Daddy. Sorry, Daddy.’
    I saw his jaw twitch but he didn’t look at me.
    ‘It’s for your own good, Emma,’ he said as he put on his belt. It seemed to take for ever as he fumbled it through the loops. When it was done he moved away, still not looking at me.
    ‘It’s for your own good,’ he said again. ‘You can’t do what you like in this life, and the sooner you stop playing silly buggers the better. Now stay in your room.’
    He’d never really walloped me before, and though the buckle hurt, I smarted more from shock at what had happened than actual pain. He’d growled at me before, lost his temper and given me a clip. Like the time I spilled ink on my school uniform and tried to clean it with bleach. His face was scrunched up and red as he yelled at me. But it wasn’t fair. It was an accident and I didn’t know bleach would turn navy blue to pinky white. He said I’d bloody well have to wear it like that, and I screamed at him andsaid I would not. I lost my temper out of fright. I shouted that he couldn’t make me and I’d rather die, and then picked up a vase from the coffee table and threw it on the floor.
    That night, after the walloping, I lay awake in the dark, wishing for my mum. I listened to my father’s snores through the bedroom wall. At heart I longed for Dad to love me, and it made me sad that sometimes he didn’t even seem to like me much. He never smacked Fleur. She had a squint and looked like him, and it was usually me and Mum, and her and Dad.
    I was lucky to have Gran, because we didn’t have any relatives on our mother’s side; Mum was brought up by nuns, and Mum never knew her mother. I once asked why she never wanted to find out who her mother was, but she only said, ‘I’ve got you and Fleur now. That’s all that really matters.’
    But a voice hissed in my head –
If you matter so, why didn’t she come with you?
    Shut up. Shut up. Her friend was sick.
    I closed my eyes, hoping so see Mum, but the picture was fuzzy and her face was gone. I brushed my tears away, and thinking of the pattern of roses and leaves on the carpet, went to sleep in a beautiful garden, where we