Eloquent Silence by Margaret Weise

knowing it would stir him to fury and aware that she was still well within arm’s reach. Shuddering at the mindlessness of these almost nightly scenes, Annie failed to know what to do. Suddenly she was on the verge of tears. His temper dominated every waking moment for her. This was just another lead into another miserable evening.
    He cast an inscrutable glance her way, his beetling brows almost meeting across his nose. ‘Don’t patronize me, you useless creature. We could afford it all right if you were a better manager.  If you weren’t forever buying bits of material and balls of wool at the Co-op Store for the kids out of your housekeeping money, we could afford better than this pig swill. I work my guts out for the family and you’ll learn to do as you’re told. I’ll have my bath before I eat your stinking rissoles.’
    His voice was far too loud for the small space in which they were passing. There was a silence, then he flared at her with his usual spite. Spittle was accumulating at the corners of his tightly clamped mouth. There was something manic in the way he often behaved at night, as if he thought the darkness could hide his screaming obscenities from the neighbors.
    He was exceptionally bad-tempered if he had stopped to drink rum at the hotel, but even if completely sober he could act like a firecracker or drone on and on at her about her perceived shortcomings.
    Off he stomped to the bedroom to collect a change of clothes with a deep scowl across his sunburned forehead. His step seemed to Annie to have an extra pulse of energy when he had just exploded at her as he regularly did. Maybe he would feel a bit relieved now, having aired his resentment towards her.
    ‘I save a lot of money by making the children’s and my clothes,’ she stuck in inappropriately towards his back. The moment for defending herself had already passed and he had gone.
    ‘Oh, by the way,’ she told his still retreating back as he headed from the bedroom to the bathroom, ‘Mr. Eichmann rang this morning from Munchen. He said his crop will be ready to harvest on Thursday and he would like a hand.’
    She wandered back towards the hallway to make certain that he had heard.
    ‘And just what did you tell him, you stupid bitch?’ His voice was dangerous with barely-contained bitterness and a manic pulse was jumping in his jaw as she watched him from the doorway.
    When beside her, he stopped in his tracks and whirled to face her, his eyes hostile and hard, for what reason Annie had no idea. The very sight of him in his anger caught her in the throat. He pulled at his lumpy, reddened earlobe as he worked up a head of steam.
    ‘That you’d ring him tonight,’ she replied quietly, surprised at the venom in his attitude, growing afraid without knowing what the scene was going to be all about, realizing his anger had nothing to do with her or with Mr. Eichmann’s crops.
    ‘Right. Get the bloody kids off to bed and I’ll ring him,’ he shouted, stripping off his dusty shirt as he stood again in the hallway.
    ‘They’d like to finish watching ‘Bellbird’ first,’ Annie told him quietly but firmly.
    Having already turned to enter the bathroom, he spun and lashed out at Annie as she stood behind him, catching her in the side of her mouth with the back of his hand. She felt there was enough force behind the clout to dislocate her bones.
    ‘Obstinate bitch. I’ll knock that clever smirk off your bloody face,’ he commented bitterly. She stared at him, blood and tears intermingling knowing nothing could defuse the dark moods when they had taken hold of him. I just have to follow the pattern and come out the other side as best I can, she thought.
    ‘Now look what you made me do. And you’d better stop that stupid bleeding,’ he ordered as he walked away. He was peeling his dusty socks off with one hand, hopping on one foot and propping himself up with one hand while leaning against the walls as he went.
    He can damage me