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Back Reluctantly Home Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

But it wasn’t the same pain. Evelyn had lived through the hell that the boy’s mother must be enduring now. Pip’s hell was different. She had been the cause of pain. Without her, it would never have been there.

Pip sat on the bathroom floor, shivering with cold until the shock had passed.

When she finally felt in control enough to move, it was dark outside. The low murmur of the television drifted up the stairs to her. She thought she heard the ten o’clock news theme tune. Her parents would be coming to bed shortly, and she knew they mustn’t find her collapsed on the bathroom floor.

Laboriously Pip got to her feet, her head still spinning. Her stomach ached, her skin felt cold and clammy and she had the slightly out-of-body feeling that often followed an attack, as if she wasn’t quite in control of her own actions.

Back in her room, the diary had slipped to the floor when she’d raced to get to the bathroom. Gingerly, she picked it up. She went back to the entry she had read, hoping that somehow she had been mistaken, but there it still was. On one unremarkable day in August 1983 Evelyn Mountcastle’s world had been changed irrevocably, just as hers had been on an unremarkable day the previous October.

Pip curled up small on her bed and wept as if she might never stop. It felt like all the tears of the previous months, the ones she had been unable to cry, were falling now. A switch had been flicked in her head, a voice giving her the previously withheld permission. ‘You may now cry,’ it said. ‘Please commence forthwith.’

By the time her mother tapped lightly on her bedroom door to wish her goodnight, Pip had no tears left.

25

25

Morning came. Pip could hear movement in the rest of the house, her father getting ready to go out, her mother preparing the breakfast. It was an ordinary day, just like any other. And yet something had changed.

She could tell from how tight her eyes felt, their skin stretched so thin over swollen lids that she knew she must look terrible. Her mother would know at once that she had spent the greater part of the night crying, but for once Pip didn’t care. Let them see. What harm would it do? What was the point of pretending?

In the bathroom, she threw cold water over her face and made little cold compresses out of damp toilet paper which she pressed into her eye sockets, but it made little difference. Nothing but time was going to erase the evidence of her tears.