Читать книгу Crocodile Tears онлайн

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“Crocodile tears, darling.”

“No, Daddy.”

She begs but she knows it’s pointless, that all the pleading in the world won’t shake him. He isn’t listening to her; he pushes her lightly, leading her to the kitchen door, down the passage to her room, to the bed with the pink chenille quilt and the teddy bear and the dolls, which he carefully sets aside. Ursula looks at the shadows that invade the room as her father closes the blinds and the shutters, bars them, draws the curtains with their pictures of fairies, seals every chink through which light might enter. Now all that remains – for just a few moments, she knows – is the triangle of light that sneaks through the gap in the doorway.

“Okay, darling.”

She lies down on the bed and trembles, she curls up into a ball. She tries to remember the prayers she used to recite with her mother, which only come to her mind when she is afraid, with that fear that invades her, occupies her, possesses her. Fear of what is about to come.

“Please. I won’t do it again, Daddy.”