nights, for almost three weeks. And one night, at about nine o’clock when Peggy and Fred were still downstairs, he did try to come in.
‘Are you there, Rachel?’ He had been standing at the door for some time, his low, wheedling voice going on and on. It completely wracked her nerves, even though she had the chest of
drawers in the way. ‘Well, Rachel,’ he said, as she lay, tense and silent. ‘I think it’s time I paid you a visit.’
Rachel gasped. The handle turned and there was a bang as the door hit the side of the chest of drawers. Foul language came from outside. Sidney could not seem to make sense of why the door would
not open. He was losing his temper. He pushed on the door again and again.
‘Whatever’s going on up there?’ Rachel heard Fred Horton’s voice down in the hall, followed by her mother’s: ‘Is everything all right, Fred?’
They were both coming up the stairs. Light appeared on the landing.
‘What’s all the banging, lad?’ Fred demanded. Evidently Sidney had not run away upstairs. ‘It sounds as if someone’s trying to knock the house down.’
Peggy came straight along and tried to get into Rachel’s room. She was met with the same obstacle.
‘Rachel? What’s this blocking your door?’
In the background, as she climbed weakly out of bed, Rachel heard Sidney making excuses about ‘the kid having a nightmare’ and him trying to get in.
‘Rachel?’ Peggy’s voice was high with annoyance.
Rachel pulled on the chest of drawers with her whole weight, shifting it enough to get out through the door. Her mother leaned in, switched on the light and looked around.
‘The chest of drawers – what’s it doing there?’
‘I moved it.’ Rachel felt very small with the three of them staring at her. She tried to control her shivering. Looking at Sidney she said, ‘He tries to get in.’
Sidney let out a guffaw of laughter. ‘I was trying to get in because she was yelling,’ he said.
‘Was it a bad dream?’ Fred said in a sugary voice.
‘No,’ Rachel said mutinously. ‘I wasn’t asleep.’
‘You can’t keep shifting the furniture about like that,’ Peggy admonished her. ‘What if there was a fire? Come on now – we’ll move that back to where it
belongs and you get into bed again.’
The men drifted away. Peggy shifted the chest of drawers back and Rachel got into bed. Peggy stood looking at her, arms folded. ‘This has got to stop,’ she said sternly.
‘But Mom . . .’ Her voice was high and desperate.
‘No more silliness and making up stories, all right? It’s not nice.’ She was turning away.
Rachel looked up at her, silenced. She knew that whatever she said, Peggy was not going to believe her. In that moment the wedge that was beginning to force itself down between her and her
mother slammed in deep. Peggy would hear what she wanted to hear.
Rachel lay down and closed her eyes, feeling as if her chest might burst with hurt and anger.
‘Now you get to sleep – no more nonsense.’
As soon as Peggy had gone, she leapt up and with all her force, moved the chest back against the door. She couldn’t rely on Mom. She was on her own.
The next day when Sidney came home, Rachel was in the kitchen, standing around as her mother cooked, hoping to catch her attention. Peggy had got rid of the maid, saying that
she ate money and her cooking was terrible. Dealing with her, Peggy had said, was more trouble than it was worth. She would do the cooking herself.
Rachel saw Sidney outside and she fled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. But he had seen her.
As she reached the top few steps he was up, taking them two and three at a time.
‘Oi, you – where d’yer think you’re off to? Running away from me, are yer?’
She was forced against the banister, the rail hard against her back. They were both standing on the top steps of the staircase. Rachel started to feel that her legs would not hold her much
longer. But her hatred of him put
‘Are you there, Rachel?’ He had been standing at the door for some time, his low, wheedling voice going on and on. It completely wracked her nerves, even though she had the chest of
drawers in the way. ‘Well, Rachel,’ he said, as she lay, tense and silent. ‘I think it’s time I paid you a visit.’
Rachel gasped. The handle turned and there was a bang as the door hit the side of the chest of drawers. Foul language came from outside. Sidney could not seem to make sense of why the door would
not open. He was losing his temper. He pushed on the door again and again.
‘Whatever’s going on up there?’ Rachel heard Fred Horton’s voice down in the hall, followed by her mother’s: ‘Is everything all right, Fred?’
They were both coming up the stairs. Light appeared on the landing.
‘What’s all the banging, lad?’ Fred demanded. Evidently Sidney had not run away upstairs. ‘It sounds as if someone’s trying to knock the house down.’
Peggy came straight along and tried to get into Rachel’s room. She was met with the same obstacle.
‘Rachel? What’s this blocking your door?’
In the background, as she climbed weakly out of bed, Rachel heard Sidney making excuses about ‘the kid having a nightmare’ and him trying to get in.
‘Rachel?’ Peggy’s voice was high with annoyance.
Rachel pulled on the chest of drawers with her whole weight, shifting it enough to get out through the door. Her mother leaned in, switched on the light and looked around.
‘The chest of drawers – what’s it doing there?’
‘I moved it.’ Rachel felt very small with the three of them staring at her. She tried to control her shivering. Looking at Sidney she said, ‘He tries to get in.’
Sidney let out a guffaw of laughter. ‘I was trying to get in because she was yelling,’ he said.
‘Was it a bad dream?’ Fred said in a sugary voice.
‘No,’ Rachel said mutinously. ‘I wasn’t asleep.’
‘You can’t keep shifting the furniture about like that,’ Peggy admonished her. ‘What if there was a fire? Come on now – we’ll move that back to where it
belongs and you get into bed again.’
The men drifted away. Peggy shifted the chest of drawers back and Rachel got into bed. Peggy stood looking at her, arms folded. ‘This has got to stop,’ she said sternly.
‘But Mom . . .’ Her voice was high and desperate.
‘No more silliness and making up stories, all right? It’s not nice.’ She was turning away.
Rachel looked up at her, silenced. She knew that whatever she said, Peggy was not going to believe her. In that moment the wedge that was beginning to force itself down between her and her
mother slammed in deep. Peggy would hear what she wanted to hear.
Rachel lay down and closed her eyes, feeling as if her chest might burst with hurt and anger.
‘Now you get to sleep – no more nonsense.’
As soon as Peggy had gone, she leapt up and with all her force, moved the chest back against the door. She couldn’t rely on Mom. She was on her own.
The next day when Sidney came home, Rachel was in the kitchen, standing around as her mother cooked, hoping to catch her attention. Peggy had got rid of the maid, saying that
she ate money and her cooking was terrible. Dealing with her, Peggy had said, was more trouble than it was worth. She would do the cooking herself.
Rachel saw Sidney outside and she fled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. But he had seen her.
As she reached the top few steps he was up, taking them two and three at a time.
‘Oi, you – where d’yer think you’re off to? Running away from me, are yer?’
She was forced against the banister, the rail hard against her back. They were both standing on the top steps of the staircase. Rachel started to feel that her legs would not hold her much
longer. But her hatred of him put
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