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clenched in my lap. “I’d like 30

R O B E R T G O D D A R D
    to . . . make up for it.” I felt the warmth of his stale breath on my cheek. “How about a birthday kiss?”
    I turned towards him to refuse, but he didn’t give me a chance.
    He forced his moist lips against mine and pushed me down across the bed. I felt the stubble on his unshaven chin pricking against my face, felt his right hand pawing at my breasts. I tried to scream, but the weight of his body and his mouth prevented me.
    My outstretched right hand was still resting on the book. In desperation, I took hold of it and, with all my strength, swung it against the side of his head. The blow sounded louder than I’d expected. He slipped off me and the bed as well and crouched for a moment on the floor, shaking his head as if to clear it. Then he found his voice.
    “You bitch!” he roared. “You treacherous . . . bitch.” He lurched upright, grasped me by the shoulders and flung me, face down, across the bed.
    For a moment, I was winded. Then I realized what was happening. He had pulled my skirt up around my waist and was stooping over me, breathing heavily. “You bitch,” he said again. “Mincing round here with your bloody airs and graces, looking down your nose at me. I’ll show you . . .” I tried to turn over, but he forced my face down with his left hand against the back of my head, then dragged my knickers down with his other hand. I think I was too shocked to resist. When I felt the first stinging blow across my bare buttocks, I realized he’d taken his belt to me. The mattress bounced under the force of the blow. The first wave of agony came a moment later. Then I screamed.
    What happened next I can’t be sure. He hit me two or three times. Then there was another voice over his—Olivia’s. Payne lurched up and blundered to the door, flinging his belt across the room as he went. The door slammed behind him. I knelt up on the bed and, for once, was glad to see Olivia. But in her face there was no mercy.
    “You shameless little bitch,” she said. “What have you done?”
    “N-Nothing,” I stammered. “He . . . he burst in here.”
    “And you dropped your knickers for him. Like mother, like daughter.”
    “Wha . . . what?” I couldn’t understand what she was saying, couldn’t think for the pain or see through my tears.
     

I N P A L E B A T T A L I O N S
    31
    “It’s what she did often enough. It’s how you were conceived. So what else should I expect?”
    “No . . . Can’t you see? He attacked me.”
    “With a belt?” Her mouth curled with scorn. “That’s how your so pure mother liked it as well. That’s how she amused herself while her husband was away, amused herself with my friends.”
    “No. It’s not true.”
    “How would you know? Did you really think you were Lord Powerstock’s granddaughter?”
    “But I am.”
    “Didn’t they teach you arithmetic at Howell’s? Find out when your so-called father died. Then you’ll—”
    She broke off. There was a knock at the door and Sally’s voice, raised in urgency. “Ma’am: there’s been an accident. It’s Mr. Payne.”
    Olivia flung the door open. “What’s happened?”
    “ ’E’s lying in the ’all. Must’ve . . . fallen down the stairs. ’E’s not moving.”
    “Stay with Leonora.” Olivia swept past her and was gone.
    Sally stepped uncertainly into the room and closed the door behind her. She said nothing, just watched in silence as I fumbled to rearrange my clothes. I rose unsteadily and moved to the dressing table, where I sat down and dabbed at my face with a handkerchief.
    I tried desperately to stop crying, tried vainly to stop shaking and sobbing. But I could not.
    “Well, well,” she said at last. “The mistress catch you up to something? Mr. Payne could’ve fallen ’cos ’e was drunk, but p’raps he was upset . . . at being found out.”
    I didn’t turn round to look at her. Normally, she never spoke to me. Now, all the sour