BooksBarbecue
Back What I Never Told you Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Dawn Goodwin
  3. WHAT I NEVER TOLD YOU
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. Acknowledgements
  55. About the Author
  56. An Invitation from the Publisher

“Now you sound like the spoilt little brat you are. We have given you everything – clothes, money, a top-notch education. Anything you need, we have provided and this is how you repay us,” he says righteously.

“Everything except love and attention!” I can hear my voice rising, the scream building behind the words. “I didn’t want all this stuff. I wanted your love.”

“So you’ve gone and got yourself knocked up like a little tramp, just to get my attention? That just proves you are far too immature to raise a child.” He stands in front of me, his hands on his hips, his eyes blazing. “Who was it?”

“Who was what?”

“The boy! Who was the boy?”

“I’m not telling you.”

He steps closer to me, until he is so close I can smell the stale coffee on his breath, feel the heat of his anger sear my skin. “I will find out. It is not hard in a small village like this. Someone will know. And then I will make sure he is finished. Do you hear me? Or you can have the abortion, carry on with school and we will talk no more about it. Your choice. But if you keep it, you are out, today, without a penny. Do you understand? I don’t want you here any longer. I can’t bear to look at you.”

I look at my mother, but she looks away.

She has chosen her side.

*

Cold steel against my skin. Searing pain. Scalding tears. Cramps that feel like I am tearing in two. Bright lights that remain, even after I have closed my eyes. The smell of disinfectant attaching itself to my hair, lingering for hours afterwards.

My mother sits beside me in the car, silent. She has said nothing to me, can’t even meet my eyes. Even now when I am openly crying, when I need her to reach out and hold my hand or comfort me, she says nothing. She just stares out of the car window as Arthur drives us home. The sky is a dull grey, the rain splattering against the window. It is over now, but the pain will remain with me.

I will never tell Jason. He can never find out.

We pull up outside the house and wait as Arthur opens the gate. The house stares down at me, menacingly large, casting a shadow over the driveway. We drive into the gloom and I feel the house judging me, one more on the list of the disappointed.

A shiver runs through me as I stare up. My mother climbs from the car, but I don’t want to get out, go inside, live there a second longer. I have to though, for now.

But when this school year is over, I will leave this place, happily turn my back on this poisoned house and never come back.

45

NOW

A loud crash ripped through the air.