our insecurity andincreased his power over us, keeping us off balance andnervous all the time. He had a certificate framed on thelounge wall that was something to do with him being amember of the freemasons. It was his pride and joy andwhen Terry and I smashed the glass one day playing ballindoors we both thought we were going to be dead meatwhen he got home. There was no way we could do anythingto disguise the breakage or mend it so we werequaking with fear by the time he came through the door,both of us apologizing and begging for mercy.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he grinned as if we were silly tomake a fuss about something so trivial. ‘We can alwaysget some new glass.’
Working on his favourite principle that we were tooyoung to be arrested, he sent Terry and me out shopliftingfor him more and more frequently. It might have startedwith us being instructed to bring back just a packet ofbacon or some other much-needed food, but he soondeveloped a habit of ordering us to steal bottles of whiskythat he could share out with his mates. As he was handingthe whisky round at home he would be boasting to themabout his clever little shoplifting daughter as though I’d just won a prize. I would burst with pride as he sung mypraises and his mates would stare at me in amazement,not realizing that I only did it because he forced me to. Ifonly he could have been as proud of me when I played theviolin or did well at school.
I always seemed to get away with nicking the whiskyfor him. I suppose it never occurred to the shopkeepersthat a little girl would do that sort of thing so they didn’tbother to watch me too carefully when I went to that areaof the shop. To make it even more difficult he was alwaysreally particular about the brands he would accept. It hadto be Teachers or White Horse. Sometimes he wouldcome out on these raids with us himself, acting like a ringmaster. There was a bicycle that was always parked in thesame place round the back of the supermarket, with asatchel behind the saddle. He would stand beside it andtake the bottles from me, sending me straight back in formore, storing them in the satchel until I had brought himthree or four, then he would fish them out and we wouldhead home triumphantly. He thought it was brilliant thathe had trained me like this, feeling he was outwitting thelaw. Although I hated having to steal, I was proud tothink that I had finally found a way to please him andshow him I wasn’t completely useless.
One time when he sent Terry and me out to stealwhisky on our own we decided we would pinch somesweets instead, since we were hungry as usual, and that was the one time we were caught. I guess shopkeeperswatch more carefully when kids are hovering around thesweets counter than around the off licence shelves.Although I was terrified of what was going to happen tous when the police were called, there was a part of me thatwas relieved because I thought that now we had beencaught Dad would realize he shouldn’t send us out anymore, that it was too risky. When the police took us homeand told him what had happened he put on a great act ofbeing the outraged parent, assuring them that he wouldbe giving us both a hiding and would be making sure wenever did such a terrible thing again, calling us ‘the littlesods’. I hated it when he behaved like that, all his bravadogone, just craven and cowardly and lying to save his ownskin.
Once the police had gone he was even more furiouswith us, not because of the dishonesty, obviously, and notbecause we had got ourselves caught, although he sawthat as more evidence of how useless we were, butbecause we had disobeyed him and gone for the sweetsrather than the whisky. He sent us straight back out againto make good our mistake.
‘Don’t come back until you’ve each got a bottle forme,’ he ordered.
Terry was in floods of tears by then, certain that he justcouldn’t go back out there after everything we hadalready been through that day, so I had to
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he grinned as if we were silly tomake a fuss about something so trivial. ‘We can alwaysget some new glass.’
Working on his favourite principle that we were tooyoung to be arrested, he sent Terry and me out shopliftingfor him more and more frequently. It might have startedwith us being instructed to bring back just a packet ofbacon or some other much-needed food, but he soondeveloped a habit of ordering us to steal bottles of whiskythat he could share out with his mates. As he was handingthe whisky round at home he would be boasting to themabout his clever little shoplifting daughter as though I’d just won a prize. I would burst with pride as he sung mypraises and his mates would stare at me in amazement,not realizing that I only did it because he forced me to. Ifonly he could have been as proud of me when I played theviolin or did well at school.
I always seemed to get away with nicking the whiskyfor him. I suppose it never occurred to the shopkeepersthat a little girl would do that sort of thing so they didn’tbother to watch me too carefully when I went to that areaof the shop. To make it even more difficult he was alwaysreally particular about the brands he would accept. It hadto be Teachers or White Horse. Sometimes he wouldcome out on these raids with us himself, acting like a ringmaster. There was a bicycle that was always parked in thesame place round the back of the supermarket, with asatchel behind the saddle. He would stand beside it andtake the bottles from me, sending me straight back in formore, storing them in the satchel until I had brought himthree or four, then he would fish them out and we wouldhead home triumphantly. He thought it was brilliant thathe had trained me like this, feeling he was outwitting thelaw. Although I hated having to steal, I was proud tothink that I had finally found a way to please him andshow him I wasn’t completely useless.
One time when he sent Terry and me out to stealwhisky on our own we decided we would pinch somesweets instead, since we were hungry as usual, and that was the one time we were caught. I guess shopkeeperswatch more carefully when kids are hovering around thesweets counter than around the off licence shelves.Although I was terrified of what was going to happen tous when the police were called, there was a part of me thatwas relieved because I thought that now we had beencaught Dad would realize he shouldn’t send us out anymore, that it was too risky. When the police took us homeand told him what had happened he put on a great act ofbeing the outraged parent, assuring them that he wouldbe giving us both a hiding and would be making sure wenever did such a terrible thing again, calling us ‘the littlesods’. I hated it when he behaved like that, all his bravadogone, just craven and cowardly and lying to save his ownskin.
Once the police had gone he was even more furiouswith us, not because of the dishonesty, obviously, and notbecause we had got ourselves caught, although he sawthat as more evidence of how useless we were, butbecause we had disobeyed him and gone for the sweetsrather than the whisky. He sent us straight back out againto make good our mistake.
‘Don’t come back until you’ve each got a bottle forme,’ he ordered.
Terry was in floods of tears by then, certain that he justcouldn’t go back out there after everything we hadalready been through that day, so I had to
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