.

Carol was bored. There was housework to do, but after being at work all day she wasn’t in the mood, and anyway, Carol decided, she had the weekend to tackle it.

      When there was a knock on the door she was actually pleased to see Amy and let her in with a smile. ‘Hello, aren’t you seeing Tommy?’

      ‘No, he’s swamped with work and as we’re both taking the day off tomorrow to go to Rose’s wedding, he’ll be working late tonight.’

      Carol had once thought that Amy’s life was boring, but now, compared to her own it seemed interesting. ‘What will you be wearing?’

      ‘A yellow dress and jacket,’ Amy said.

      ‘Is the dress plain or patterned?’

      ‘It’s got a pattern of small, white flowers, but the jacket is plain. With so few people going to the wedding there won’t be a bit of a do afterwards, but we’re going for a meal in a restaurant.’

      Carol felt a stab of envy. Amy had got engaged to be married last month, her life moving forward, while Carol knew that hers had stagnated. It was as though since the loss of her baby, she’d given up on life too, but now for the first time Carol felt a longing to live again. Even the quiet wedding sounded better to Carol than being stuck at home every weekend, but at least the evening passed quickly as they continued to chat. They spoke more about Rose and her marriage, Carol musing, ‘I suppose Rose is living in clover now.’

      ‘We haven’t seen Mr Jacobs’ house yet,’ Amy said, ‘but when Rose comes to see us she always turns up in a taxi. She wears lovely clothes now too, sort of classy.’

      ‘I bet that makes the curtains twitch, though the gossips are probably green with envy.’

      ‘I don’t envy Rose,’ Amy said. ‘He may be rich, but I couldn’t marry an old man like Mr Jacobs.’

      ‘I’m not sure I could either, but good luck to Rose. When he kicks the bucket she’ll inherit the lot.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Amy said, then changing the subject, ‘I know you didn’t like working in the paint factory at first. Is it any better now?’

      ‘Some of the women are a laugh so that helps, and at least I don’t have to work Saturdays.’

      ‘Talking of Saturdays, I’d best be off. We’ll all have to be up early in the morning to get ready for the wedding.’

      ‘Have a nice time,’ Carol said, sighing when Amy left. There’d be no nice time for her tomorrow, she’d be spending the day doing housework. For now though, not wanting to be up to see her father rolling home drunk, Carol decided to go to bed.

      An hour later, Carol was in the throes of a terrible nightmare and her eyes snapped open in the dark. Someone was on top of her, hands groping – but then she screamed in terror. This wasn’t a nightmare; she was awake, and desperately she fought to throw the man off whilst crying out, ‘Dad! Dad, help me!’

      ‘Shut up!’

      Her mind reeling, Carol froze for a moment, unable to believe it, yet the voice was his, along with the stench. ‘No! No, Dad! It’s me, Carol!’ she cried frantically. ‘Stop it!’

      Still it continued, her father deaf to her cries, and almost out of her mind, Carol hit out in the darkness, punching, yanking his hair, and when he yelled she found a surge of strength, enough to throw him off her body.

      Frantic to get away from her father, Carol scrambled from the bed and fled downstairs where, grabbing an old raincoat from the hook, she ran from the house.

      Carol flung the coat on as she headed for the one place where she knew she’d be safe, protected. Her chest heaving, she only paused occasionally to draw breath, aware of nothing around her but her need to get there, until at last she arrived and thumped frantically on the door. Nobody came, nobody opened it, and sobbing she sank down onto the doorstep.

      With no idea of the time, Carol didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind in turmoil at what her father had tried to do, until at last her brothers turned up. Carol rose unsteadily and almost fell into Paul’s arms.

      ‘Carol, what’s wrong? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?’ he asked urgently.

      ‘No … no,’ she croaked, feeling her legs crumbling beneath her.

      Paul lifted her up, carried her inside and laid her gently onto the sofa, while Davy said, ‘Carol, you’ve got nothing on your feet and they’re bleeding. What the hell happened?’

      ‘I … he … he …’ she stammered.

      ‘A man did this to you?’ Paul growled. ‘Who was it? When we get our hands on him we’ll kill him!’

      Carol couldn’t take any more – couldn’t bear to relive what had happened again and her mind closed down. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and sank into darkness.

      Paul looked down at his sister the following morning. She was still asleep, and seeing the dried blood on her feet again, his lips tightened in anger. Until Carol woke up it was hard to make sense of what had happened, but sick at the thought that she’d been raped, he said to Dave, ‘Look at her. She’s still in her nightdress, so whoever did this must have broken into the house.’

      ‘But where was Dad?’ Dave asked.

      ‘We don’t know what time it happened, so maybe he was out.’

      ‘Yeah, that’s probably it, but surely he’d have seen that she wasn’t there when he came home?’ Dave pointed out.

      ‘He might have assumed she was in bed.’

      ‘True,’ Dave agreed, ‘but he’s going to notice that she isn’t there this morning.’

      ‘If Carol’s up to it we’ll have to take her home, but if she’s been raped Dad’s going to do his nut.’

      ‘No! No, I don’t want to go home!’ Carol cried, suddenly sitting up.

      Surprised Paul said, ‘I thought you were still asleep.’

      ‘Please,’ Carol begged. ‘Don’t make me go home.’

      It she’d been attacked in her own bed, no wonder she was too scared to go back, Paul thought. ‘All right, stay here for now. Dave can shoot down to tell Dad where you are.’

      ‘No! No, he mustn’t tell him I’m here!’

      Confused, Paul asked, ‘Why not?’

      ‘Be … because he … he tried … in my bed … I … I fought him off, got away,’ Carol sobbed, her words disjointed.

      ‘Flaming hell,’ Dave said. ‘Surely you’re not saying that Dad tried it on?’

      Carol nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, but Paul couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it and said, ‘Dad wouldn’t do that. He was probably drunk and stumbled into your room instead of his own.’

      ‘He … he might have been drunk, but I woke up to find him on … on top of me and his hands were … were all over me.’

      Paul felt bile rising in his throat and unable to stand the sound of his sister crying, he strode to the kitchen. He put water in the kettle and then placed it on the gas before taking three cups from the cupboard.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Dave asked as he appeared in the doorway.

      ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ Paul snapped. ‘I’m making us a drink.’

      ‘You must be kidding. Carol just told us that Dad tried it on with her, and all you’re doing is making tea.’

      ‘Oh, I intend to do more than that. First though Carol probably needs a drink and her feet need to be sorted, bathed.’

      ‘Then what?’

      ‘Then you and I are going to take a