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want you to look at something.’ He laughed and took a swig of lager before letting out a loud belch.
    I didn’t want to go over to him, but I was frightened not to. I climbed up onto the bed beside him, trying not to look at his ding-a-ling, which was sticking straight up in the air.
    ‘What do you reckon, Lisa? Who’s got the best tits out of these two–the blonde or the nig-nog?’ He flicked the magazine with his middle finger. ‘Get it right and it’s tickle time, get it wrong and I might just have to bend you over my knee.’
    My eyes filled with tears and I pointed at the black lady, hoping I’d got it right.
    Just then we heard the front door opening and voices in the passage. It was Diane and Cheryl. Dad seemed annoyed and hurriedly covered himself with a sheet. He slammed the magazine shut and threw it on top of the tall pile of others beside his bed. The whoosh of air made a cloud of ash fly up from the ashtray and some of it settled on top of his drink.
    ‘We’ll have to play this game another time,’ he said. ‘Go on, piss off back to Scooby fucking doo or whatever shit you’re watching.’
    I ran back to the front room, my cheeks wet with tears.
    ‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Diane.
    ‘Nothing,’ I said quietly. I didn’t even think about telling her what had happened, because already I was too scared of what Dad might do.
    He was always telling me that I was his favourite, his special one, and in some ways that made me happy but it meant that he wanted me at his beck and call more than the others. When he was watching TV, he liked me to sit by the set so I could turn the dial to change channels when he wanted me to.
    ‘It’s like having one of the seven fucking dwarves as a slave,’ he’d laugh. ‘Which one are you?’
    ‘Dopey,’ I’d say, as he’d taught me to.
    I didn’t mind helping Dad because usually it made him friendlier towards me, but it wasn’t always easy. When he was watching TV, I had to sit as still as I could because he hated me fidgeting.
    ‘I’m trying to watch the film, here,’ he’d shout, throwing a shoe at me when pins and needles finally forced me to shift position. I would have preferred to play in my room but I knew I’d have to wait until Dad told me I could leave.
    During the ad breaks, he liked to play horsey with me. I had to climb up and straddle him as he bounced me up and down vigorously on his lap, and this made me giggle.
    One day, he stopped in the middle of bouncing and said, ‘You like sucking things, don’t you, Lisa?’
    I shrugged, unsure of what he meant, then blushed as I realised. Mummy had taken away my dummy ages ago and I’d started sucking my thumb as a substitute comforter. She kept telling me I’d end up with teeth like Goofy’s so I had tried my best to stop but I was always forgetting.
    ‘Would you like to suck mine?’ asked Dad.
    I looked at his thumb. It was stained brown from all the cigarettes he smoked and his nail was dirty and needed cutting. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to suck a thumb like that.
    ‘Well, would you?’ he asked again.
    I shook my head, and pressed my lips firmly together.
    Dad laughed, and then licked his lips.
    I knew I shouldn’t but I started to wriggle off him. He grabbed me firmly with one hand, digging his nails into the top of my shoulder, and reached up to hold my nostrils closed with his other hand. He always did this when he wanted me to eat something nasty, like an old cigarette butt, for a joke. I held my breath for as long as I could, but eventually I had to gasp for breath. Before I knew it, he had rammed his dirty thumb into my mouth and was moving it back and forth really fast.
    ‘Go on, suck it,’ he said playfully. The taste was so bitter, I started to cough and splutter. I thought I was going to be sick.
    ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Mummy, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
    ‘Look at this, Donna,’ he sniggered. ‘She’s good for a beginner but