A Family’s Heartbreak. Kitty Neale

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      ‘Let’s go into the front room and have a chat,’ Lizzie suggested.

      ‘Yeah, all right.’

      Jenny watched as her mother followed her father, throwing a smug grin over her shoulder as she left the kitchen. I hope she gets what she’s come for, Jenny thought, and doesn’t rile him. She finished cooking his breakfast, and once it was plated up, Jenny wondered whether she should take it through to him or keep it warm in the oven. Trouble was, the fried eggs would go hard, which would give her father another reason to kick off. She hadn’t yet heard any raised voices so decided to serve it up. She placed the plate on a tray then tapped gently on the front room door.

      Her father was quick to shout, ‘What?’

      As Jenny walked nervously into the room, balancing the tray, her father looked at her and said scathingly, ‘Your mother’s got some fucking nerve.’

      ‘Well, if it wasn’t for gobby there, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now,’ Lizzie said, and raised her eyebrows at Jenny.

      Jenny didn’t know what to say and wanted to flee from the room.

      ‘What’s Jenny got to do with anything?’ her father asked.

      ‘Last night she went and opened her big gob. She called me Mum, and that put me in this very difficult position. I hadn’t yet told my fella that I had kids and he chucked me out. Yeah, and come to that, Jenny, who was that bloke you were with?’

      Jenny could feel her parents’ eyes boring into her, but her throat felt frozen with fear and she was unable to answer. Instead, she walked cautiously over to her dad to offer him the tray. To her utter shock, instead of taking it from her, he whacked the tray from underneath and sent it flying across the room. Greasy bacon and runny egg yolk slid down the faded wallpaper as the plate and tray crashed to the floor.

      ‘You’re taking the fucking piss out of me, Lizzie,’ he yelled. ‘This bloke chucked you out, you’re blaming Jenny for it, and now you’ve come here trying to tap me for money. Get out of my house, you money-grabbing whore!’

      Her mother flinched but, as though she didn’t want to show any fear, she flicked her hair back defiantly then marched from the room. In a haughty voice, she called over her shoulder, ‘Fine. You can poke your rotten money where the sun don’t shine, Henry Lombard.’

      As the front door slammed, Jenny stared at her father, petrified at what was coming.

      ‘That bitch left me with you five to look after and then has the front to come round here with her hand out asking for money. And what the fuck was she on about? Was you out with a man last night?’

      Jenny nodded.

      ‘And you saw your mother?’

      Again, she nodded.

      ‘Was the fancy bloke she was with a young ’un?’

      Jenny went to nod yet again, but her father moved fast and placed his large calloused hand around her neck. She would have stumbled backwards but he had a tight grip of her. She could feel the blood rushing to her head.

      ‘Did you have a nice time, the four of you? Cosy, was it?’ he asked menacingly.

      Jenny wanted to tell him that it wasn’t like that, but her father’s tightening hold was nearly choking her. She didn’t see it coming, but suddenly felt a searing hot pain across her face. He’d viciously slapped her, but he’d let go of her throat and she crumpled to the floor. She didn’t have time to curl into a foetal position before he began raining blows down on her. Her ribs, her arms, her head, her whole body felt under assault from his punishing punches and kicks.

      ‘You’re a fucking tart just like your mother,’ he screamed.

      Jenny closed her eyes, but she couldn’t blot out the pain as blow after blow smashed into her already bruised body.

      Finally spent, and gasping for breath, her father walked away, leaving her close to passing out and bleeding on the worn floorboards. Jenny felt as though she was drifting away, and the last thing she heard was the front door slamming before she sank into unconsciousness.

      Gloria had passed her mother as she left the house. Lizzie had eyed her short skirt with disapproval, and Gloria had scuttled past, saying she was in a hurry. She carried on walking, but her conscience kept nagging at her to go back home. It was obvious that her mother was heading there, and wherever she went, so did trouble. If her mother infuriated her dad, she knew Jenny would end up being used as his punchbag.

      Gloria was about to turn back, but then decided she was better off out of it, and safe from her father’s temper. She’d rather Jenny be getting it in the neck than her. Nearly twenty minutes later and close to Chestnut Grove, some impulse made her suddenly spin on her heels again and head home. If everything was all right, she could always go out for another walk, and anyway, she consoled herself, it was still a bit early and Dennis might not be about yet.

      As Gloria hurried round a corner, she came face to face with her mother. She’d promised Jenny she wouldn’t say anything, but, worried about the chaos her mother had probably left behind, she couldn’t help herself and blurted, ‘Have you been to see me dad?’

      ‘Yeah, but it was a waste of time. The tight git.’

      ‘Can’t you just stay away, Mum? Every time you visit, you upset Dad, and when you leave one of us always gets a hiding. Do you even care that he beats Jenny because of you?’

      ‘Don’t be such a drama queen, Gloria. If he hits any of you, I’ve no doubt you deserved it. My father used to take the strap to me, it’s what dads do. It’s called discipline and it won’t do you any harm.’

      ‘It’s got nothing to do with telling us off! It’s Jenny that mostly gets the brunt of his temper and she doesn’t do anything to deserve it. Please, for her sake, for all our sakes, don’t visit us again.’

      Gloria was stunned when her mother just glared at her and pushed past her without saying another word. It was obvious she didn’t care about them. Gloria picked up her pace and, just as she reached home, her father came steaming from the house. His face was contorted with rage and his eyes black. He didn’t so much as look at her as he passed, and Gloria instinctively knew he’d beaten Jenny again. She dashed up the short path to the front door, dropping her key in her haste. Once inside, she flew straight to the front room and looked down in horror at Jenny lying unconscious on the floor.

      ‘Pamela,’ she yelled. ‘Pamela, run up to the phone box and ring for an ambulance.’

      Gloria dropped to her knees beside her sister and gently brushed Jenny’s hair from her bloodied face. ‘It’s all right,’ she soothed, ‘help will be here soon.’

      Jenny groaned in pain and a knot formed in Gloria’s stomach. Her father had done this, inflicted these terrible injuries, and she hated him, detested him. Her mother might not have landed the punches, but she’d played a part in this, and she hated her too.

      Once again Jenny cried out, and Gloria’s eyes filled with tears. This was the worst she’d ever seen it. Her sister looked in a bad way – a very bad way, and she feared that this time Jenny wouldn’t pull through.

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