door.’
She rose stiffly to her feet and headed up the passageway. Eve warmed the pot and spooned in the tea and wondered if her aunt was going to make much fuss about her going to work at the hospital. Taking the First Aid classes had made her realise how much she wanted to put her skills into practice. But she didn’t want to show what it meant to her, because then her aunt would forbid it completely.
At least she had the law on her side, thought Eve. She had to do some kind of war work, whether her aunt liked it or not. She just had to approach it very carefully . . .
She turned round and almost dropped the teapot when she saw her aunt standing silently in the doorway.
Eve put her hand to her hammering heart. ‘Oh, Aunt, you gave me quite a start—’
Then she saw the leather strap hanging loosely from her aunt’s hand, and a ripple of dread ran through her. She straightened up, trying not to tremble. ‘Aunt Freda?’ she whispered.
‘You had a visitor,’ Aunt Freda said. She held out her other hand, and Eve saw her own purse. ‘Reverend Stanton’s son. He says you dropped this earlier on?’ Her brows arched questioningly over cold, hard eyes.
‘I can explain . . .’ Eve started to say. But the leather strap whistled through the air, catching the back of her hand with a sharp crack. Eve flinched back, snatching her hand away.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me!’ Aunt Freda’s voice rasped. ‘I don’t want to hear your lies.’ She advanced towards Eve, her eyes pinpricks of venom. ‘You’ve been sneaking around behind my back, haven’t you?’
‘N-no, Aunt. I—’
‘And I suppose you’ve been lying to me about those classes of yours, too, haven’t you? Telling me you’re off learning to be a nurse, when all the time you’ve been getting up to all sorts!’
Eve backed away, her eyes fixed on the twitching leather strap. ‘I haven’t, Aunt, honestly. I was walking home, and he ran into me on his bicycle. I – I must have dropped my purse then.’
‘Liar!’ The leather strap cracked through the air again, narrowly missing her. Aunt Freda advanced towards her, face taut with fury. Eve’s legs buckled and she groped behind her, fingers closing around the worn wood of the draining board.
‘I swear to you, Aunt, it’s the truth.’
‘Swear, would you? So you’re a blasphemer as well as a whore.’ Aunt Freda’s face twisted. ‘I should have known, no matter what I did you’d turn out just like your mother.’
‘But Aunt—’
‘You need to be punished.’ Aunt Freda’s voice was suddenly low and calm, belying the madness in her eyes. ‘I will not have a lying whore in this house, do you understand me? You need to have the evil beaten out of you, for your own good.’
‘Aunt, please,’ Eve begged, her voice hoarse with fear.
‘It’s for your own good, child. “He that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done.” Colossians, chapter three, verse twenty-five. How do you ever expect to learn, if no one teaches you a lesson?’
‘Please, Aunt—’ She was whimpering now, unable to stop herself even though she knew her pleas would only goad her aunt further. ‘Please, don’t—’
The leather cracked, and she felt the hot snap of pain across her cheek, sending her reeling backwards. All she could do was cower, her arms over her head, and wait for it all to be over.
Chapter Twelve
THE NIGHTMARE JOLTED Dora into wakefulness and she jack-knifed upright, gasping for breath, her heart hammering. It took a moment for her to remember where she was, lost in the sea of her double bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her nightgown damp with sweat. But slowly, as her eyes got used to the darkness, she started to make out the familiar shapes of the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and the soft breathing of her babies on either side of her.
She put her hand to her chest and tried to breathe deeply as the sound of Nick’s screams slowly faded from her mind.
She rose stiffly to her feet and headed up the passageway. Eve warmed the pot and spooned in the tea and wondered if her aunt was going to make much fuss about her going to work at the hospital. Taking the First Aid classes had made her realise how much she wanted to put her skills into practice. But she didn’t want to show what it meant to her, because then her aunt would forbid it completely.
At least she had the law on her side, thought Eve. She had to do some kind of war work, whether her aunt liked it or not. She just had to approach it very carefully . . .
She turned round and almost dropped the teapot when she saw her aunt standing silently in the doorway.
Eve put her hand to her hammering heart. ‘Oh, Aunt, you gave me quite a start—’
Then she saw the leather strap hanging loosely from her aunt’s hand, and a ripple of dread ran through her. She straightened up, trying not to tremble. ‘Aunt Freda?’ she whispered.
‘You had a visitor,’ Aunt Freda said. She held out her other hand, and Eve saw her own purse. ‘Reverend Stanton’s son. He says you dropped this earlier on?’ Her brows arched questioningly over cold, hard eyes.
‘I can explain . . .’ Eve started to say. But the leather strap whistled through the air, catching the back of her hand with a sharp crack. Eve flinched back, snatching her hand away.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me!’ Aunt Freda’s voice rasped. ‘I don’t want to hear your lies.’ She advanced towards Eve, her eyes pinpricks of venom. ‘You’ve been sneaking around behind my back, haven’t you?’
‘N-no, Aunt. I—’
‘And I suppose you’ve been lying to me about those classes of yours, too, haven’t you? Telling me you’re off learning to be a nurse, when all the time you’ve been getting up to all sorts!’
Eve backed away, her eyes fixed on the twitching leather strap. ‘I haven’t, Aunt, honestly. I was walking home, and he ran into me on his bicycle. I – I must have dropped my purse then.’
‘Liar!’ The leather strap cracked through the air again, narrowly missing her. Aunt Freda advanced towards her, face taut with fury. Eve’s legs buckled and she groped behind her, fingers closing around the worn wood of the draining board.
‘I swear to you, Aunt, it’s the truth.’
‘Swear, would you? So you’re a blasphemer as well as a whore.’ Aunt Freda’s face twisted. ‘I should have known, no matter what I did you’d turn out just like your mother.’
‘But Aunt—’
‘You need to be punished.’ Aunt Freda’s voice was suddenly low and calm, belying the madness in her eyes. ‘I will not have a lying whore in this house, do you understand me? You need to have the evil beaten out of you, for your own good.’
‘Aunt, please,’ Eve begged, her voice hoarse with fear.
‘It’s for your own good, child. “He that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done.” Colossians, chapter three, verse twenty-five. How do you ever expect to learn, if no one teaches you a lesson?’
‘Please, Aunt—’ She was whimpering now, unable to stop herself even though she knew her pleas would only goad her aunt further. ‘Please, don’t—’
The leather cracked, and she felt the hot snap of pain across her cheek, sending her reeling backwards. All she could do was cower, her arms over her head, and wait for it all to be over.
Chapter Twelve
THE NIGHTMARE JOLTED Dora into wakefulness and she jack-knifed upright, gasping for breath, her heart hammering. It took a moment for her to remember where she was, lost in the sea of her double bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her nightgown damp with sweat. But slowly, as her eyes got used to the darkness, she started to make out the familiar shapes of the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and the soft breathing of her babies on either side of her.
She put her hand to her chest and tried to breathe deeply as the sound of Nick’s screams slowly faded from her mind.
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