I instantly and vividly remembered what had happened the Christmas before, but I didn’t cry. I pushed my feelings deep inside me, squashing and hiding them deep down. I walked up the stairs with the dinner like an obedient servant, my head all thick and heavy with dread. There was a lightbulb in the bedroom, as a special treat for Christmas. I switched the light on, but Daddy boomed, ‘Switch it off - and come here!’ I hesitated, and the plate started to wobble in my hands. ‘Get here now, you!’ he growled. I put the plate down on the dressing table and got onto the bed. His hands were on me now, pulling off my underwear while I flopped about like the yellow-haired rag dolly Mary was playing with downstairs. His eyes looked dead and his mouth was set in a snarl. Usually, it was very dark when he did these things, and even though I had switched off the light as instructed, the fact it was daylight outside and there was some light trickling through the side of the blanket on the window meant I could see Daddy clearly.
