Daddy's Prisoner (16 page)

After Dad had gone out with Michael, Mum and I would make tea and toast before cuddling up together in front of the TV. She could hardly believe it as she lifted up the remote control and got to pick what she wanted to watch. When I was younger, she’d loved a police programme called
Juliet Bravo
so now she switched on
The Bill
and we watched it together. Or sometimes we’d sit and play pontoon or rummy and laugh as I teased Mum that she was cheating. We were almost giddy in those moments, free of him and his shadow in the corner, watching and waiting for us to put a step wrong. Mum’s eyes would light up as she laughed when I teased her and I knew then that I’d been right to stay with her – she wasn’t quite beaten yet and one day I would finally persuade her to leave with me. We never spoke about Dad during those hours alone or the fact that I’d stayed after the kids left. I didn’t want to spoil those precious moments together with talk of him.

The Idiot might have made up with Michael long enough to accept his offer of a place to stay but things between them were as up and down as ever. It was just as it had been when Michael was a boy: one minute there was a truce, the next they’d fall out amid shouts and threats.

‘That bastard’s not coming back in this house,’ Dad would scream if Mum asked after Michael. ‘I’ve had enough of him this time. That’s it.’

But we slowly learned it never was because Michael eventually came back after every row they had. They both had their reasons: my brother wanted to keep an eye on Mum while Dad needed someone to go out with. So an uneasy peace would spring up between them and soon they’d be back out at the country and western clubs together. Of course, their next falling out was never too far away and it was during one of those that Dad decided to take Mum with him to the clubs.

She seemed happy to go out when she was well but Dad still made her even if she wasn’t and I was locked in the house. When Michael and Dad patched things up again, I was even taken up to my brother’s to watch over the girls while the others spent the evening at one of the clubs. I enjoyed those nights as I pretended it was my home with my children sleeping in the next room. I’d never thought like that before but discovering romance books had changed something inside me. I’d started reading them after sending off a magazine coupon for a free offer. I thought the book might be a way to pass some time. I only left the flat now for about fifteen minutes twice a week to pick up my benefits on Wednesday and Dad’s money on a Thursday so the days seemed to last for ever. But I was hooked as soon as I got the first book and soon obtained more – everything else melting away as my head was filled with the stories of doctors and nurses, star-crossed lovers and handsome princes.

When The Idiot realised I was escaping him for a few precious hours as I read, he made it clear he hated me doing it. But I was determined not to give the books up – they were the only thing that was mine – so I started hiding them under a towel in the bathroom and reading a few pages whenever I went in. I couldn’t be out of Dad’s sight for too long because otherwise he’d start shouting for me, but a few pages were enough to keep me going. It wasn’t just the stories themselves I loved, though, but the feelings they inspired in me. At night I found myself having thoughts I’d never had before – wondering if I might fall in love and have my own family one day. In the two years since Jonathan, I’d been surer than ever that I didn’t deserve such happiness. But now new feelings stirred inside me as the books opened a window on to a world I hadn’t known before – where men and women felt tender love for each other, where families were happy and safe. I didn’t breathe a word of my thoughts, of course, and kept quiet around Dad, but it was enough to have them.

He was too busy with the clubs to take much notice anyway – in fact, he loved going so much that he soon bought himself all the gear everyone wore: fringed shirts, a long black jacket, black dress trousers and a black cowboy hat. He even wore a gun belt and would put it all on at home to practise with his weapons – drawing the gun quickly out of the belt and holding it in front of his face as he stared in the mirror or shot at balloons. I shuddered to think how much he must have dreamed of using one of his real guns while the rest of the people at the clubs were happy with replicas. In fact, about a year after he started going, Dad got someone to convert his replica guns to carry live ammunition. No one knew what he’d done, of course, but it only ignited my fear that one day he’d finally use one of those guns to carry out his threats. The thought of them was always in the back of my mind when he forced me to have sex.

It was after Dad got hooked on the clubs that something unexpected happened when he told me I was going to go with him. I don’t remember how it started – maybe Michael wasn’t around or Mum was too ill to leave the house – but whatever the reason was he started taking me. I couldn’t believe it. He was asking me to go out with him like a real father and daughter. I knew it was better for me if Dad was happy – there would be fewer slaps with the walking stick or things thrown in a fit of temper – but I didn’t understand what he was up to and felt nervous the first few times we went out. Hanging around in the background, I’d watch as he laughed and drank with his friends. I didn’t dare speak to anyone in case it gave him a reason to be angry with me.

But as time passed I gradually started to think that maybe this time Dad didn’t have a plan and found myself actually enjoying those trips. At least I was out in the real world with people. Soon I was going a couple of times a week and although it felt strange because I knew I wasn’t free like others were to laugh, drink and talk to whomever I wanted, I found myself gradually looking forward to those nights because for a few short hours I could convince myself that I was free. I got to know a few of the women, they taught me a couple of line dances and I even started taking part in the shooting competitions myself – feeling a burst of pride if I managed to hit the balloons used as targets and heard people applauding me. Dad didn’t like it if I did too well, of course, so I knew I couldn’t get too good, but I began to feel alive.

It was the first time I’d seen a world like this. I’d never been to a nightclub, disco or pub before. The clubs seemed exciting – loud and full of people, chatter and smoke – and I longed to be part of it all for real. Seeing ordinary people – husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends – living ordinary lives made me think. These were decent people. These men didn’t hold knives to throats as they barked out commands or force their daughters to give them sex like slaves. They had no idea about the monster in their midst who smiled and joked – making people believe he was just like them.

But even though I sensed the club regulars would have been horrified to know what was happening to me, it never crossed my mind to tell anyone. I was sure they would hate me and I was too ashamed to admit what had been happening for all these years so at the end of each night I’d be locked back up, not knowing when Dad would take me out again.

I knew I was his when we went back to the club but even so I couldn’t help watching the couples around me – seeing how some laughed and joked while others kissed and cuddled. The dreams started by the romance books got a little brighter as the months passed. Dad had always told me no one would want me because I was a dirty good-for-nothing. But now I felt little shoots of hope starting to grow inside me and began to think about a life outside home. Even Dad seemed to hint that one day I might be free.

‘When you’re married you’ll have to make sure you live close by,’ he’d told me one day.

I didn’t understand what he was talking about.

‘I won’t find a husband,’ I replied, making sure I didn’t let him catch me out by falling for his trick.

‘Sure you might,’ he said. ‘But if you did we’d have to make sure our arrangement carried on just as it always has.’

It made me feel sick to think of what he’d do. I knew that if I fell in love, I wouldn’t want to keep his secrets any more. I’d want it to be just like I’d read in the books. But the more Dad said such things, the more it made me think about the future. After the kids were taken, I’d almost lost hope about ever persuading Mum to run away with me. But now I wondered if I might be able to. Did I dare dream that I’d have my own family one day? I didn’t know what to think but was careful about who I spoke to at the club just in case it made Dad mad. He might have been setting a trap for me with all his talk of marriage. He might be testing me and I didn’t want to give him a clue about what I was thinking.

Everything changed the night I met Jimmy Dean. It was about a year after we moved back to my home city and I was at the club with Dad when I noticed a man looking at me. He was tall and skinny with brown hair and I knew his face because he was a friend of Michael’s. My eyes slid over him at first as I looked around the club but when I turned back, I could see he was still staring. He was looking at me as I stood beside Dad who was laughing and joking with his friends.

‘Has the cat got your tongue?’ The Idiot suddenly hissed.

‘What?’

‘I said I wanted another vodka. Now go and get me one. Are you in a fucking dream again?’

I felt my stomach tighten. Somehow I knew the man was still watching me and I did not want Dad to notice. I sat quietly for the rest of the night not daring to look at him again, but the next time Dad took me to the club, the man was there once more. I felt a flutter of excitement as I saw him and a few minutes later my stomach flipped as he walked up to me.

‘How are you doing?’ the man asked.

I liked his smile.

‘Fine.’

‘I’ve seen you around. You’re a good shooter, aren’t you? And dancer too. Do you like coming here?’

My eyes slid nervously to the dance floor.

‘I’m Jimmy,’ he said. ‘Jimmy Dean. I know your brother Michael. And you’re Alice, aren’t you?’

I stared at him.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Well, it’s good to meet you. Would you like a drink?’

‘No. I can’t.’

‘Sure you can! What can I get you?’

‘Nothing. I’m fine.’

‘Okay. So would you like to dance?’

‘No. I should go.’

I hurried off and left Jimmy staring after me. I don’t know what he must have thought – probably that I was rude at best and strange at worst – and I was sure he’d just forget me. But I knew I wouldn’t stop thinking of him. Getting into bed later that night, I thought of Jimmy again. He’d told me I had lovely colour eyes and those words had surprised me. I couldn’t remember someone ever saying such a kind thing before.

I didn’t stop thinking about Jimmy for the next few days and every time my stomach flipped inside me. I knew I had to be careful Dad didn’t notice that I was nervous and excited at the same time. It was strange. I wondered when I’d next be taken to the club and if I’d see Jimmy there again.

‘He wants to know if you’ll go out with him, you know,’ Michael said a few days later when he came to see us.

‘Who?’

‘Jimmy, of course.’

‘No!’ I exclaimed.

‘Why not? He likes you.’

‘You know I can’t. What would Dad say?’

‘Just ignore him, Alice. You’re twenty-one. You can do what you want.’

I didn’t say any more. Michael didn’t realise how impossible it was. I’d be killed if I so much as looked at Jimmy outside the club. I just hoped that I might see him again and talk to him a bit more. Maybe The Idiot hadn’t noticed me talking to him or maybe he didn’t mind as long as he could keep an eye on me. It had been months now that I’d been going to the clubs with him so perhaps he was going to give me a bit more freedom. Even so, I knew there was no way I could ever go on the date with Jimmy that Michael was suggesting. Dad’s knives were always ready.

A few days after Michael’s visit, I heard the doorbell go and went to answer it. My brother was standing outside.

‘I’ve brought someone to see you,’ he said, his eyes twinkling as he walked in. ‘We’ve come for a cup of tea.’

I couldn’t believe it. Jimmy was walking in behind Michael.

‘Hi, Alice,’ he said.

What was Michael doing? He knew Dad would be mad with him for bringing someone into the flat. But he didn’t seem to care as we walked into the lounge where The Idiot and Mum were sitting.

‘This is Jimmy,’ he said as Dad glared at him. ‘We’re only stopping for a few minutes. We’ll just have a tea and then we’ll go.’

Dad said nothing as he stared at the TV screen. I looked at him nervously as Michael and Jimmy started chatting. I could feel how angry The Idiot was. Someone was going to get into trouble for this.

‘How are you?’ Jimmy said as he turned to me.

‘Fine,’ I said quietly.

I glanced up as Dad got up off the bed and walked out of the room. I didn’t know what to say to Jimmy. Part of me didn’t want to speak to him but another did.

‘So what films do you like?’ he asked as I sipped my tea.

‘I don’t get out to the cinema,’ I said.

‘And what music do you enjoy? I know you like it because I’ve seen you tapping your foot along at the club.’

‘I just listen to Dad’s music.’

‘That’s right,’ a voice said.

The Idiot stood at the door, staring down at Jimmy and me.