us
when they do find the bloody evidence then!’ said her father.
Julie
withdrew from her mother’s embrace and turned on her father. ‘There is no evidence
to find. I’m innocent, and so is Rita!’ she shouted.
‘Well if
you were so bloody innocent, they wouldn’t have been here in the first place,
turning our house over, and showing us up in front of all and sundry! I always
said that no good would come out of all this clubbing, staying up till all
hours…’
Julie
interrupted, sniping viciously at her father, ‘Don’t you start! I’ve had enough
with those bastards, interrogating me, day and night, accusing me of things I
haven’t done, and now even my own father won’t believe me! What kind of a
father is that anyway?’
Bill pounced
forward, with his hand raised. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that!’
Before he
could manage to strike, however, Betty wedged herself between Bill and Julie.
‘Leave her alone Bill! This isn’t helping matters. Julie, get up to your room!’
Julie did
as she was told to the sound of her father’s voice berating her, ‘You’re no
daughter of mine! Out till all hours, with a load of scum, getting drunk,
involved in murders, MURDERS, I say!’
As soon as
Julie reached her room and shut the door, renewed tears filled her eyes. She
found it hard to accept that a night out had resulted in such a tragedy; her
friend dead, the hostility of her own father, the guilt and shame which she had
brought on her family. She needed to convince her parents of her innocence, but
what could she say to reassure them? Her father had never approved of her
lifestyle. He was old-fashioned and always would be. He was also a bit of a
male chauvinist. If he knew half the things that she and her friends got up to
then she would sink even lower in his estimation. How could she explain to him
that they were only meant to be having a laugh?
A recurring
thought began to trouble her. It was of Inspector Bowden, ridiculing her and
her friends’ behaviour, and she could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
She could see the similarities between her father and the inspector – two of
the old school, with their ‘women should be at home, tied to the kitchen sink’
philosophy. Her mind was in a quandary. She thought that in some ways perhaps
they were right; her life was just one useless, time-wasting mess. Maybe she
should find herself a husband and have a family, instead of running around and
acting the fool.
Julie lay
down on her bed but, once again, sleep eluded her. She was too upset at her
friend’s death, and her father’s animosity towards her. He had always been so
supportive of her in the past, even though he didn’t approve of her way of
life. She felt that she had let him down, and his anger unsettled her. Julie
hadn’t seen this aspect of her father’s personality before, and what she had seen
in the last twenty-four hours had shocked and disturbed her intensely.
Suddenly
the bedroom door opened and Julie tensed in anticipation, expecting her father
to walk in, but it was Clare. Her younger sister walked towards the bed. She
seemed ill at ease, and hesitated before she spoke, ‘Julie ... I just came to
say... well, that, I believe that you haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t care
what my dad says!’
Julie
reached her hand out towards Clare but she seemed to shrink away from her.
Wanting to reassure her little sister, Julie stood up and flung her arms around
her. She could feel Clare beginning to relax in the comfort of her embrace.
They wept in each other’s arms and it was a while before Julie spoke, ‘Thanks Clare;
that means a lot to me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I was just in the wrong
place at the wrong time, that’s all.’
After Clare
had left the room, Julie still couldn’t sleep so she took a long awaited shower.
She stood beneath the powerful spray for ages, letting the hot water flood over
her and scrubbing at her skin as though trying to
when they do find the bloody evidence then!’ said her father.
Julie
withdrew from her mother’s embrace and turned on her father. ‘There is no evidence
to find. I’m innocent, and so is Rita!’ she shouted.
‘Well if
you were so bloody innocent, they wouldn’t have been here in the first place,
turning our house over, and showing us up in front of all and sundry! I always
said that no good would come out of all this clubbing, staying up till all
hours…’
Julie
interrupted, sniping viciously at her father, ‘Don’t you start! I’ve had enough
with those bastards, interrogating me, day and night, accusing me of things I
haven’t done, and now even my own father won’t believe me! What kind of a
father is that anyway?’
Bill pounced
forward, with his hand raised. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that!’
Before he
could manage to strike, however, Betty wedged herself between Bill and Julie.
‘Leave her alone Bill! This isn’t helping matters. Julie, get up to your room!’
Julie did
as she was told to the sound of her father’s voice berating her, ‘You’re no
daughter of mine! Out till all hours, with a load of scum, getting drunk,
involved in murders, MURDERS, I say!’
As soon as
Julie reached her room and shut the door, renewed tears filled her eyes. She
found it hard to accept that a night out had resulted in such a tragedy; her
friend dead, the hostility of her own father, the guilt and shame which she had
brought on her family. She needed to convince her parents of her innocence, but
what could she say to reassure them? Her father had never approved of her
lifestyle. He was old-fashioned and always would be. He was also a bit of a
male chauvinist. If he knew half the things that she and her friends got up to
then she would sink even lower in his estimation. How could she explain to him
that they were only meant to be having a laugh?
A recurring
thought began to trouble her. It was of Inspector Bowden, ridiculing her and
her friends’ behaviour, and she could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
She could see the similarities between her father and the inspector – two of
the old school, with their ‘women should be at home, tied to the kitchen sink’
philosophy. Her mind was in a quandary. She thought that in some ways perhaps
they were right; her life was just one useless, time-wasting mess. Maybe she
should find herself a husband and have a family, instead of running around and
acting the fool.
Julie lay
down on her bed but, once again, sleep eluded her. She was too upset at her
friend’s death, and her father’s animosity towards her. He had always been so
supportive of her in the past, even though he didn’t approve of her way of
life. She felt that she had let him down, and his anger unsettled her. Julie
hadn’t seen this aspect of her father’s personality before, and what she had seen
in the last twenty-four hours had shocked and disturbed her intensely.
Suddenly
the bedroom door opened and Julie tensed in anticipation, expecting her father
to walk in, but it was Clare. Her younger sister walked towards the bed. She
seemed ill at ease, and hesitated before she spoke, ‘Julie ... I just came to
say... well, that, I believe that you haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t care
what my dad says!’
Julie
reached her hand out towards Clare but she seemed to shrink away from her.
Wanting to reassure her little sister, Julie stood up and flung her arms around
her. She could feel Clare beginning to relax in the comfort of her embrace.
They wept in each other’s arms and it was a while before Julie spoke, ‘Thanks Clare;
that means a lot to me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I was just in the wrong
place at the wrong time, that’s all.’
After Clare
had left the room, Julie still couldn’t sleep so she took a long awaited shower.
She stood beneath the powerful spray for ages, letting the hot water flood over
her and scrubbing at her skin as though trying to
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