Matilda's Last Waltz Read Online Free PDF Page B

me.’ He kicked out again, sending her crashing into the wall. ‘Time you learned some respect.’
    Matilda scrabbled for the door, her eyes never leaving him as he returned to his chair, a fresh bottle in his hand.
    â€˜Bugger off,’ he growled. ‘You ain’t no use to me. Just as yer ma wasn’t.’
    She didn’t need telling twice. Stumbling to her feet, she edged towards the door.
    Mervyn took a long pull from the bottle. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and eyed her belligerently. Then he sniggered. ‘Not so lah-de-dah now, are ya?’
    Matilda slipped into the house. With the door closed behind her, she leaned against it for a moment and took deep, shuddering breaths. The pain in her hip was nothing compared to the pain in her leg, and on closer inspection she understood why. A jagged piece of glass was deeply embedded in her thigh.
    Hobbling to the pantry, she pulled down the medicine box and swiftly dealt with the wound. The sting of antiseptic made her bite her lip, but once the glass was out and a clean bandage drew the lips of the ragged cut together, it didn’t seem so bad.
    Alert for the sound of Mervyn leaving his chair, she hastily stripped off the filthy dress and left it to soak in a bucket while she washed. There was nothing but the creak of the rockers on the bare boards and his unintelligible ramblings.
    Matilda limped across the kitchen to the tiny room where she slept. With the door firmly jammed by a chair, she fell exhausted on to the bed where she lay wide-eyed and vigilant. Night sounds came to her through the shuttered window, and the outback smell of eucalyptus and wattle, dry grass and cooling earth, drifted between the gaps of the clapboard walls.
    She fought to stay awake, but it had been a long, traumatic day and her eyelids drooped. Her last thought before sleep was of her mother.
    *   *   *
    The sound was alien and woke her instantly.
    The door handle was turning. Rattling against the wood. Matilda edged up the bed, the thin sheet drawn to her chin as she watched the chair being rocked.
    She cried out as a great weight was thrown against the door, splintering the panels, rasping the chair across the floor. The screech of rusty hinges was loud as the broken door slammed back against the wall.
    Mervyn’s towering bulk filled the frame, the light of a candle casting deep shadows around his staring eyes.
    Matilda shuffled to the furthest corner of the bed. Her back was pressed to the wall, knees drawn to her chest. Perhaps if she was small enough, she could become invisible.
    Mervyn stepped into the room, the candle held high as he looked down at her.
    â€˜Don’t.’ She put out a hand as if to ward him off. ‘Please, Dad. Don’t hit me.’
    â€˜But I’ve come to give you your present, Matilda.’ He walked unsteadily towards her, fumbling with his belt.
    She thought of the last time he’d beaten her, and how the buckle had bit so deep she’d been in agony for days. ‘I don’t want it,’ she sobbed. ‘Not the belt. Please, not the belt.’
    The candle was carefully placed on the beside table. Mervyn belched as he pulled the belt free. It was as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘It ain’t the belt you’ll be getting,’ he hiccuped. ‘Not this time.’
    Matilda’s sobs came to an abrupt halt and her eyes widened in horror as he fumbled to undo the trouser buttons. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Not that.’
    The moleskins dropped to the floor and he kicked them aside. His breath was ragged, eyes bright with more than whisky. ‘You always were an ungrateful bitch,’ he grunted. ‘Well, I’m gonna teach you a lesson in manners, and when I’m through you’ll think twice about giving me lip.’
    Matilda dived off the bed as he climbed towards her. But he was between her and the door, and the window was tightly fastened against