When Daddy Comes Home. Toni Maguire

the one she had grown up in, a gracious Georgian three-storey building, it was the first time Antoinette had heard that plan voiced. It seemed to her that her father wanted to control everything, even where they lived.

      The gate house was comfortable enough for us before he turned up, she thought resentfully. Working overtime is just another excuse to keep his wife quiet.

      She mistrusted his story and, as she saw the triumphant look on his face as he won the short argument, she believed it even less. Knowing that her mother only pretended to accept his reasoning fuelled her resentment even more.

      ‘Going to the greyhound races more like it,’ she muttered under her breath.

      Seeing the expression which had crossed his daughter’s face and reading it correctly, Joe glared at her as he snapped, ‘What are you doing standing there? Help your mother while I’m out – make yourself useful for once.’

      With that parting shot, he left. The noise of the door slamming behind him vibrated in the now-silent room.

      Ruth and her daughter glanced at each other and Antoinette could see the unhappiness on her mother’s face. She hardened her heart to it, for she felt past trying to cheer her mother up. Just for once Ruth could have stood up for her daughter and pointed out that she contributed more than her fair share. She felt the injustice of his remarks and hurt by the usual lack of support from her mother. If she wouldn’t stand up for her, who would?

      Antoinette went to her room hoping that her father would win enough from the dog races to keep him away from the house until she had left for the evening. She knew that she had contributed as much to the housekeeping as he had. With her tips, she earned as much as he did – a fact that fuelled his simmering anger towards her.

      She thought of how he commandeered the television she had bought and sat watching the sports programmes that she detested; how her mother cooked his favourite food, never asking Antoinette what she wished for; how, when her daughter had offered to cook an evening meal, he had jeered at her efforts calling it ‘that dammed fancy muck of yours’. Since his return, except for that one unsuccessful attempt, she was reduced to doing the more menial task of washing up.

      Antoinette had no wish to meet her father when she was dressed for her night out. She knew he would mock her attempts to look nice and knock her fragile self-confidence even further. If he was in a bad mood, she would be his target, a mental punch bag for him to unleash his anger on, anger that now always seemed to simmer close to the surface. Nor did she want to see the sadness on Ruth’s face, though she could not help feeling that her mother had brought her misery upon herself. Antoinette could see no point in having someone in the house who created such a feeling of discord, and she could not understand why her mother had allowed him to return to his old ways in such a short space of time. She heard Joe’s evasions, saw his smugness and watched her mother pandering to his wishes. She felt an increasing contempt for her parents as she saw his dominance and Ruth’s acquiescence.

      When her father was out, her mother would seek her out, keen for company and an ear she could complain into, but this time Antoinette was determined she would not relent and give in to her. Instead she spent the afternoon in her room deciding on which outfit she was going to wear for her night out and finally made her selection. She neatly laid out on the bed a pale yellow dress with a low-cut neck and a straight skirt that had a small back pleat which enabled her to walk freely while emphasizing her slim legs. The broad belt that she had chosen was covered with a darker fabric, which would encircle her waist tightly and make it look slimmer.