Never a Hero to Me Read Online Free PDF

wherever we moved). ‘Sit,’ he barked, as if I were a dog.
    I sat.
    ‘Have you cleaned up?’
    I nodded.
    ‘Can’t you talk?’ he snapped. I could see Gary grin. He always liked it when I was in trouble; I guess it deflected attention from him and lessened the chance that he was going to get told off.
    ‘Can I go to bed, Dad?’ I asked.
    ‘At this time of night? Something wrong with you? I’ll have to think whether there’s anything else you need to do first.’
    His words chilled me, but I knew Gary hadn’t a clue about what could be the real meaning. Dad’s gaze wandered again. I didn’t know how much he had been drinking, as it was always difficult to gauge, as it never seemed to affect him. I don’t know how long we all sat there – it was a while. Gary eventually went through to his own room, the one furthest away from where I was left with Dad, and I sat, as motionless as possible, trying not to draw his eyes to me. I remembered that he was meant to be going to hospital to see Mum soon, and that visiting hours were almost starting. I couldn’t wait for him to leave.
    ‘Are you going to see Mum tonight, Dad?’ I asked, quietly.
    It was ages before he finally turned and looked at me. He put his empty can down on the floor beside all the others he had accumulated throughout the day so far. He placed his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray beside the dozen or so other butts. He was going to be in a right state when he finally did go in to visit his wife.
    ‘Yes, yes, I am. But I won’t be long, don’t you worry. You’re a good girl, Tracy. You’ve done well today. I hope you’ll keep on being a good girl for me – you will, won’t you?’
    I nodded, relieved at the thought of him being away for a couple of hours, but knowing just what he had done last time he said I was a good girl. I didn’t want that again.
    I didn’t want to be a good girl if that’s what it brought me.
    I didn’t want to be his sort of good girl.

CHAPTER 4
     
A SMALL WORLD
     
    When Dad left for hospital, Gary went out to play with his friends. I would have preferred it if Gary had stayed, as I was still a bit scared when there was no one in the house – but I was quickly realising that there were worse things than being alone. I decided to clean and tidy some more, desperately hoping I could keep on Dad’s good side. I emptied the box which held the beer cans and tipped the contents of the ashtray into a bin liner. The smell of the cans was horrible and the stale stink of the ashtray made me feel queasy. It took me ages to get everything looking nice.
    I sat down, my stomach churning, and thought about how things were in my little life. There were many hundreds of Army families on that base in Germany. We lived in a flat at the bottom of the whole base. It was a close-knit community in many ways – and I have no doubt that, had it been known what my father did to me as a child, he would have been ripped apart. Sadly, his methods of keeping me quiet would be too effective, my silence pretty much guaranteed as a result of the web of lies and threats he would weave around me. That day, when we had such ‘fun’ changing the bed linen, was the start of his campaign of abuse, the start of my realisation that this man, who presented himself as a hero and great guy to everyone, was nothing more than a sick pervert who preyed on my innocence.
    Army life is a strange combination of the ‘real’ world and something so distinct, so protected and separated from that same real life, it is hard to describe to anyone who has never been part of it. No matter where you are, no matter which country or region, you generally still have your own shops, your own school, your own insular life. At least you did when I was a child growing up in such a world. Even when you move from one base to another, there is a huge familiarity to the lifestyle and surroundings, even if the accents outside change or the temperature is the opposite of