was very confusing.
After that, she learned to be more careful. She often saw strange people about. One minute they were there, the next they werenât, but she didnât tell. Sometimes they spoke to her, sometimes they didnât. Mostly she wasnât scared, but occasionally they did nasty things like jump out and frighten her. But she kept her mouth shut because people might get cross, like Miss Addison and Miss Perry.
The only one she did tell was Carol. She didnât get angry, but she didnât want to hear about it much either. When they were in bed, Zelda would sometimes whisper across the room: âAunty Vi says hello,â or, âScruffy wants to give you a lick.â Scruffy was their cocker spaniel who died when Zelda was four. Mother said they couldnât have another dog.
âThereâs no one there,â Carol would whisper. She was three years older than Zelda.
âThere is, really there is,â Zelda would reply. Occasionally sheâd get upset and start crying. Then Carol would climb in her bed and give her a cuddle and make her feel better.
âThere there,â sheâd say, stroking her little sisterâs dark hair. âNever mind. I believe you. But donât tell anyone. Donât tell Mother or Father, OK?â
âOK,â Zelda repeated.
Zelda and Carol were dead scared of Mother and Father. He used to be a bank manager but Zelda could only vaguely remember him going into London in his suit in the mornings. They lived in Teddington then, in a little house near the river with an apple tree in the garden that she and Carol used to climb. Zelda could only have been three or four when they left, but she could still picture the apple tree.
Something happened with the bank, Zelda never did know what. She knew it was bad, though, and she wasnât allowed to talk about it with anyone, Mother said. The next thing, they were moving to Harrow, to a poky flat on an estate so Father could be near his job at RAF Northolt.
Heâd been in the RAF before when he was a young man. He was a pilot officer, he told them. He went back to the same job â pilot officer â but this time looking after accounts. Zelda guessed he didnât really like it much; he was always bad-tempered when he got home. But he was lucky to have a job at all. Mother said that sometimes in a gloomy sort of way.
He didnât like children. She and Carol used to annoy him. If they didnât do well in a school test or something heâd get out his belt, put them over his knee, pull down their knickers and beat them.
Mother didnât like them much, either. She was always picking on them: âTidy your room,â sheâd say, even though theyâd just tidied it. âPick up your shoes, dry the dishes, stop making a noise.â She was always finding something wrong.
Zelda thought she probably hated living on the estate and hated the other women, too. She used to sniff and say they were common. Zelda and Carol werenât allowed to play with the other children on the green outside. They had to stay inside, doing their homework or helping with the chores. It was a good job they had each other or theyâd have been really miserable.
Zelda sighed. Mother was sitting right beside her on the bed now, nudging her in the ribs. She wouldnât let her go to sleep.
âCarolâs all right,â Zelda said. âShe knows youâre sorry.â
âI thought it was for the best,â Mother said for the umpteenth time. âShe was only sixteen. How could she have looked after a baby?â
âWe all could have helped, I suppose,â Zelda replied. She brought her knees up to her chest. Hunched up in a little ball.
âYou mean your father and I could have? You were only thirteen, you wouldnât have been able to do much.â
âI would when I got in from school,â Zelda protested.
âBesides,â said Mother,
After that, she learned to be more careful. She often saw strange people about. One minute they were there, the next they werenât, but she didnât tell. Sometimes they spoke to her, sometimes they didnât. Mostly she wasnât scared, but occasionally they did nasty things like jump out and frighten her. But she kept her mouth shut because people might get cross, like Miss Addison and Miss Perry.
The only one she did tell was Carol. She didnât get angry, but she didnât want to hear about it much either. When they were in bed, Zelda would sometimes whisper across the room: âAunty Vi says hello,â or, âScruffy wants to give you a lick.â Scruffy was their cocker spaniel who died when Zelda was four. Mother said they couldnât have another dog.
âThereâs no one there,â Carol would whisper. She was three years older than Zelda.
âThere is, really there is,â Zelda would reply. Occasionally sheâd get upset and start crying. Then Carol would climb in her bed and give her a cuddle and make her feel better.
âThere there,â sheâd say, stroking her little sisterâs dark hair. âNever mind. I believe you. But donât tell anyone. Donât tell Mother or Father, OK?â
âOK,â Zelda repeated.
Zelda and Carol were dead scared of Mother and Father. He used to be a bank manager but Zelda could only vaguely remember him going into London in his suit in the mornings. They lived in Teddington then, in a little house near the river with an apple tree in the garden that she and Carol used to climb. Zelda could only have been three or four when they left, but she could still picture the apple tree.
Something happened with the bank, Zelda never did know what. She knew it was bad, though, and she wasnât allowed to talk about it with anyone, Mother said. The next thing, they were moving to Harrow, to a poky flat on an estate so Father could be near his job at RAF Northolt.
Heâd been in the RAF before when he was a young man. He was a pilot officer, he told them. He went back to the same job â pilot officer â but this time looking after accounts. Zelda guessed he didnât really like it much; he was always bad-tempered when he got home. But he was lucky to have a job at all. Mother said that sometimes in a gloomy sort of way.
He didnât like children. She and Carol used to annoy him. If they didnât do well in a school test or something heâd get out his belt, put them over his knee, pull down their knickers and beat them.
Mother didnât like them much, either. She was always picking on them: âTidy your room,â sheâd say, even though theyâd just tidied it. âPick up your shoes, dry the dishes, stop making a noise.â She was always finding something wrong.
Zelda thought she probably hated living on the estate and hated the other women, too. She used to sniff and say they were common. Zelda and Carol werenât allowed to play with the other children on the green outside. They had to stay inside, doing their homework or helping with the chores. It was a good job they had each other or theyâd have been really miserable.
Zelda sighed. Mother was sitting right beside her on the bed now, nudging her in the ribs. She wouldnât let her go to sleep.
âCarolâs all right,â Zelda said. âShe knows youâre sorry.â
âI thought it was for the best,â Mother said for the umpteenth time. âShe was only sixteen. How could she have looked after a baby?â
âWe all could have helped, I suppose,â Zelda replied. She brought her knees up to her chest. Hunched up in a little ball.
âYou mean your father and I could have? You were only thirteen, you wouldnât have been able to do much.â
âI would when I got in from school,â Zelda protested.
âBesides,â said Mother,
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