advice.
She said faintly, ‘I ‘spect so,’ and the childishness caught at his heart. ‘I’m crying a lot these days, it must be my hormones. Well, I must go. Take care of yourself, Daddy.’
He found himself clutching the phone with both hands. ‘Have you got enough money?’ Was that
all
he could do for her from now on, for ever?
She said gently, ‘Oh yes, yes. You spoil me.’
‘Well, have a lovely time, darling.’
‘Yes, I will. I’ll get brown and send you postcards.’
‘Yes.’
‘All right then.’
‘Well, have fun.’
‘Yes. Oh, Daddy—’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I’m just being silly. Take care of yourself. ‘Bye.’ She blew a kiss down the phone and hung up.
He put down the receiver slowly, unaware how his face looked. He said, ‘That was my daughter.’
The atmosphere was so highly charged that Sarah judged she could say, ‘You love her very much, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ He spoke like a man in a trance.
Sarah said, ‘She’s lucky.’
15
P RUE WAS scared. She had actually made the phone call while crouching on the floor in what she now noticed was very nearly a foetal position. She replaced the receiver reluctantly: even dead in her hand it was some small link with her father, with the outside world. She did not know what she had expected: magic words, a healing spell, absolution? Her eye looked dreadful in the mirror; she flinched from looking at it with the other one. She had worn dark glasses to the shops but even so had imagined everyone could see behind them and would know why she was buying meat. She felt silly, too, for she had no way of knowing if this really was an effective cure: she had only heard about it. Like buying gin for abortion (not that she had ever wished to do
that)
, it was the classic remedy of folk lore to which the mind automatically sprang, but without any factual knowledge.
When she got home she had applied the meat, feeling totally ridiculous. She did not know how long to leave it on for or how bloody it ought to be. It made a terrible mess of her face and she kept thinking how everyone would laugh if they could see her all alone in a darkened room lying on the bed with a piece of meat on her eye. So presently she took it off and laid it carefully on the plate she had brought from the kitchen for the purpose. This, too, made her feel hysterical. Then she had to get up and go to the bathroom to wash off the blood and inspect her injury for signs of instant improvement.
But why had he hit her? What was so terrible about wanting to give up her job after only three weeks instead of four? She was temporary staff and no notice was required; people were coming and going all the time. Financially, it would not make all
that
much difference: they had their fares and their pocket money was dictated by the government. But if they got really short she could no doubt arrange with her father that friends of his in France could help them out and he would repay them. It could be a sort of advance birthday present. Gavin had said, ‘God, you’re a spoiled brat,’ and she had become indignant. ‘Why? Why am I? I hate the job, it gives me backache. You don’t know what it’s like being pregnant—’ using the one unfair and irrefutable argument she had, and he had said furiously, ‘Oh yes, the great out. Now you’ve got to get away with everything instead of just nearly everything, you can’t even sit at a desk for four weeks and get paid for it, well
that’s
how impressed I am,’ and he had slapped her across the face.
She still trembled when she remembered the shock of it. It was neither a heavy blow nor a light one but it took all the breath from her body with shock. It was not the pain, such as it was, that she minded: there was even a faint sense of pleasure in the stinging sensation and the knowledge that Gavin had caused it. He had always been very rough with her in bed, which she liked and had come to take for granted. But her dignity was
She said faintly, ‘I ‘spect so,’ and the childishness caught at his heart. ‘I’m crying a lot these days, it must be my hormones. Well, I must go. Take care of yourself, Daddy.’
He found himself clutching the phone with both hands. ‘Have you got enough money?’ Was that
all
he could do for her from now on, for ever?
She said gently, ‘Oh yes, yes. You spoil me.’
‘Well, have a lovely time, darling.’
‘Yes, I will. I’ll get brown and send you postcards.’
‘Yes.’
‘All right then.’
‘Well, have fun.’
‘Yes. Oh, Daddy—’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I’m just being silly. Take care of yourself. ‘Bye.’ She blew a kiss down the phone and hung up.
He put down the receiver slowly, unaware how his face looked. He said, ‘That was my daughter.’
The atmosphere was so highly charged that Sarah judged she could say, ‘You love her very much, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ He spoke like a man in a trance.
Sarah said, ‘She’s lucky.’
15
P RUE WAS scared. She had actually made the phone call while crouching on the floor in what she now noticed was very nearly a foetal position. She replaced the receiver reluctantly: even dead in her hand it was some small link with her father, with the outside world. She did not know what she had expected: magic words, a healing spell, absolution? Her eye looked dreadful in the mirror; she flinched from looking at it with the other one. She had worn dark glasses to the shops but even so had imagined everyone could see behind them and would know why she was buying meat. She felt silly, too, for she had no way of knowing if this really was an effective cure: she had only heard about it. Like buying gin for abortion (not that she had ever wished to do
that)
, it was the classic remedy of folk lore to which the mind automatically sprang, but without any factual knowledge.
When she got home she had applied the meat, feeling totally ridiculous. She did not know how long to leave it on for or how bloody it ought to be. It made a terrible mess of her face and she kept thinking how everyone would laugh if they could see her all alone in a darkened room lying on the bed with a piece of meat on her eye. So presently she took it off and laid it carefully on the plate she had brought from the kitchen for the purpose. This, too, made her feel hysterical. Then she had to get up and go to the bathroom to wash off the blood and inspect her injury for signs of instant improvement.
But why had he hit her? What was so terrible about wanting to give up her job after only three weeks instead of four? She was temporary staff and no notice was required; people were coming and going all the time. Financially, it would not make all
that
much difference: they had their fares and their pocket money was dictated by the government. But if they got really short she could no doubt arrange with her father that friends of his in France could help them out and he would repay them. It could be a sort of advance birthday present. Gavin had said, ‘God, you’re a spoiled brat,’ and she had become indignant. ‘Why? Why am I? I hate the job, it gives me backache. You don’t know what it’s like being pregnant—’ using the one unfair and irrefutable argument she had, and he had said furiously, ‘Oh yes, the great out. Now you’ve got to get away with everything instead of just nearly everything, you can’t even sit at a desk for four weeks and get paid for it, well
that’s
how impressed I am,’ and he had slapped her across the face.
She still trembled when she remembered the shock of it. It was neither a heavy blow nor a light one but it took all the breath from her body with shock. It was not the pain, such as it was, that she minded: there was even a faint sense of pleasure in the stinging sensation and the knowledge that Gavin had caused it. He had always been very rough with her in bed, which she liked and had come to take for granted. But her dignity was
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