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her hand was shaking so much that she was spilling as much on the counter as wasgoing into the tea. I stood next to her and laid my head against her hip as the kettle boiled.
    ‘What do you want?’ she snapped.
    ‘Are you alright, Mummy?’ I asked, tears trickling down my cheeks and soaking into her dressing gown. ‘Your eye looks sore.’
    ‘Just go to your room or something,’ she replied, pushing me away. ‘You’re always under my bloody feet.’
    I knew by her reaction that she didn’t want me to mention what Dad had done to her. It was almost as if she was embarrassed and couldn’t meet my eye. So from then on whenever I saw her cut or bruised, or wearing her Polaroid sunglasses inside the house, I didn’t say anything. In fact none of us did. I always felt very scared when I saw her bruises though. I was scared that he would hurt her really badly one time, and even more scared that he would hurt me. If he so much as raised his voice, I would find urine trickling down my leg. The more violent and unpredictable he became, the more I would wet myself, then I would panic that he would notice I’d had an accident and punish me with a slap or a kick. I crept round the flat like a little mouse, doing my best not to draw attention to myself.
    I wished I could go back and live with Nanny again. But somehow I knew without asking that Dad would never let me.

Chapter Four
    I started school when I was five. The nursery I’d attended when I lived with Nanny was based in the same Victorian building, so I was quite familiar with it already. I was looking forward to playing in the big girl’s playground, where I could use the skipping ropes and hula hoops. Nanny knitted me a new hat and scarf, which I wore despite the late September heat, and Jenny and Freda bought me a pretty dress and long white socks from Woolworths. I felt really smart in my new outfit. Mummy couldn’t walk me to school herself as she was having a lie-in with Dad, so Diane took me on the first day. It was a ten-minute walk away.
    ‘I won’t be able to walk you every day,’ said Diane as she held my hand, ‘so make sure you remember the way, just in case Mummy doesn’t get up in time.’
    ‘I should have brought a bit of bread to crumble, like Hansel and Gretel,’ I said, and Diane laughed.
    As we approached the gate, I was so nervous my insides were doing somersaults. But once I was inside I quickly settled in. The classrooms had proper desks with lids that lifted up and smashed back down on our fingers if we weren’t careful.I sat next to a girl called Claire Sullivan, and when we had to line up in twos we giggled as we held hands. I liked it at school, at least at first.
    Mummy spent most of her waking hours at Dad’s beck and call, catering to his every need, whether that meant running over the road to put his bets on, or spending hours in the bedroom with him whenever he announced ‘Feel that, Donna. I’ve got the right horn.’
    Mummy had plenty of time for him because since he had moved in, Dad had insisted on a few changes. Firstly, he stopped Mummy working for Uncle Bob in the pub because Dad believed it was ‘whore’s work’ and besides, Uncle Bob was a ‘no-good cunt’. Mummy could forget ever working there again–and another thing, she had better get used to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to ‘flash her tits all over the shop’ any more.
    ‘You’re fucking everything that moves in that boozer,’ he spat. ‘What d’ya take me for, some kinda mug?’
    ‘Why would you say that, Frank? I never look at anyone but you.’
    ‘Cos you’re a slag, that’s why,’ he replied with a sneer.
    While he was at it, Dad also banned her from contact with any member of her extended family, especially ‘the old bitch and two ugly sisters over the road’. Mummy accepted all this and even seemed pleased that he was so jealous and possessive of her, as if it was confirmation of his love.
    ‘You just want me all to yourself,