Strange Sally Diamond

‘I think the baby is dying. I might die too.’ She was gasping and taking deep breaths. ‘Is that what you want? You have to tell somebody that I’m here … My name is Denise Norton. Please remember that … I used to think that people would come looking for me, but I think they have given up now. You’re the only person who knows I’m here. Please, as soon as you get out today you must tell somebody that I’m here. Denise Norton. Denise Norton. You’re my son.’

‘Who would I tell?’

She sobbed then. ‘You could run outside to the road and tell the first person you met.’

‘I’m not allowed outside the garden.’

‘Don’t you see? If only you were old enough to understand … we are both prisoners.’ Her breathing was becoming shallower. She fell asleep again. I could see blood spreading across the blanket. What if she died? Would Dad be angry with me? I went to the fridge and filled a glass with milk. I went to her and held it to her face.

‘Milk is good for you,’ I said and I tried to lift her head. She roused slightly and tried to drink the milk but most of it spilled on to the mattress. ‘Do you want my cheese?’ I tore the packet open, and she gnawed at it.

‘Denise Norton,’ she said over and over again. ‘You must tell someone. If I die here, they won’t know who I was.’

‘Stop saying things.’

‘Does anyone know you exist? It’s not normal to be locked behind gates. He’s a monster. Can’t you see?’

I shouted then and pulled away from her. ‘He is not. You’re a monster and I hate you!’ I aimed another kick at her but struck the corner of the wall instead.

‘You know what? I think I hate you too,’ she said. ‘I’m ashamed of what he has made you.’

Dad arrived at five to eleven. When he saw the mess and the blood, he told me to go to my room and stay there.

‘But it’s Sunday,’ I complained.

‘Go to your room,’ he roared at me and I scurried into the room next door.

He hadn’t even said hello or hugged me. What if he put me in her room as punishment for killing her? What if he chained me to the bolt in the wall? I stayed in my room for hours and hours, afraid to leave even though the door wasn’t locked and I was hungry. I blocked my ears when I heard, or thought I heard, some muffled screams.

Eventually, Dad came in and I tried to judge by the set of his jaw whether he was angry or not. He opened the door and kneeled down to my level.

‘I’m so sorry, little man, I should never have put you through that. I promise, I’ll never leave you there again. I didn’t think it would be fair to leave you on your own for two whole nights, but you might have been better off.’

‘Is she dead?’

‘What? No. She had a baby.’

‘My brother or sister?’

‘It’s a girl.’ His lip curled.

‘Are they all right?’

‘Yes. You kicked her?’

‘You said I could.’

‘I suppose I did. I guess I didn’t realize you could kick that hard. She’ll be all right eventually. Let’s go and get some food, okay?’

I watched television while Dad prepared dinner in the kitchen.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Denise Norton and my baby sister.

‘Dad, she said I lived with her for the first few years and then you took me away. Is that true?’

‘Not entirely. I needed her to breastfeed you. You know what that is, right?’

I nodded. Dad got National Geographic magazines. I’d seen photos.

‘But as soon as you were ready, I brought you out here to spend time with me. She was of no use to you after that. I taught you how to read and write.’

‘She doesn’t have any books. Will you give her some of mine?’

Dad didn’t say anything and I could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he didn’t like me asking that. I couldn’t stop thinking, though. As Dad presented me with beef and onion pie, I said, ‘Dad, what did she do?’

He understood what I meant.

‘Terrible things. I’ll tell you when you’re older.’

‘I think you should give her some new blankets.’

He reached over and took my hand. ‘Peter, she’s a nasty bitch and now she has pushed out another nasty bitch. They don’t deserve your consideration. I wish you had a better mother.’

I nodded eagerly. ‘Me too.’ And then, ‘What’s a bitch?’

‘A female dog,’ he said, and laughed, and then he tickled me and I laughed too.

‘She said that I was a prisoner like her. Is that true, Dad?’

‘Of course not, you’re so precious to me. I want to keep you safe.’

‘Do you want to keep her safe?’

‘Ah now, Peter, you saw what she was like. Would you want her walking around the house with us?’

‘No way!’

‘Exactly. Now forget all about her. I’m sorry you had to suffer that. It won’t happen again.’ I went to my room and I wrote down the date on the wall behind my bed with a crayon. September 15th 1974. I don’t know why I did that, but it’s a date I never forgot.

Over the following weeks, I tried to forget about the bitch and the baby. Sometimes, at night, when everything else was silent, I could hear the baby crying from the room next door. I could hear my dad visiting to give them food and stuff.