Her sister’s words were true. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother.
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