Chapter 13

"Tell me about the monster, Angela."

Angela twisted her head away, with an agonised expression on her face.

"You don't want to know, Domingo."

Domingo took her face between his hands and gently turned her back to look at him.

"I DO want to know, Angela. I really do," he said earnestly.

Angela let out a long, ragged sigh, looked down at her hands in her lap and began.

"My mother didn't like children. She had seven, and the first six were fairly close together in age one or two years between each, but I came along much later. There were fourteen years between me and my next sister. My mother was forty-seven years old when she had me. She must have been furious. Just when she thought they were all off her hands, suddenly she was saddled with another baby."

Angela paused. "She didn't like the others, but she hated me.

"So she punished me. Every day I had to get up early and do all the housework before I went to school. And if I did anything wrong, she used to hit me. I always did something wrong. So she hit me every day. It didn't matter how hard I tried, Domingo."

She glanced up at him for a moment, her eyes bright with tears, and then looked back down at her hands.

"I used to feel like," she paused again. "Do you know the fairy story, Domingo? The one about the girl with the glass slipper?"

Domingo grinned. "Yes," he cried "Cenicienta! She left behind the glass slipper after the dance, and the Blue Prince searched the land for the girl whose foot would fit the slipper. And..."

"Yes, that one," Angela interrupted hastily. "Well, before she went to the ball, she had to do all the work for her wicked stepmother. I felt like that. Only," she went on in a sad little voice, "I didn't have a Fairy Godmother."

"And there were other things." Angela's voice began to rise. "She wouldn't let me have anything for myself. When my dad was away she took away all the lovely things and locked them in the chest. I tried to open it once and she thrashed me so hard that I couldn't sit down for a week."

"What did your father say?" asked Domingo.

Angela looked back at him in amazement. "My father didn't know," she said. Then, with a look of puzzlement on her face. "It never crossed my mind to tell him."

"Why not?"

Angela made a little frown. "I think," she began, "I think it was like a secret, a shameful secret. I was ashamed that my mother beat me, and I was ashamed that I was so bad that I had to be beaten."

"Oh, Angela," said Domingo, taking her hands and pressing them between his own.

"And then, Oh God! And then there was the kitten." Angela ripped her hands from between Domingo's and began to twist them together in agony. "Oh God, Domingo, the kitten! I don't know what possessed me. I must have been mad to bring a living creature into that house."

She gave him a haunted look, then carried on.

"A friend at school gave him to me. Her cat had had kittens and she was looking for homes for them. I convinced myself," she let out a hoarse sob, "I convinced myself that I could keep him in my room and she'd never know. My room was right at the top of the house, you see, and she never went in there, I thought I could keep him up there and he would be my friend."

The marmalade cat, who until now had been sitting on the windowsill feigning indifference, jumped down and came to sit beside Angela, looking at her with such an expression of concern and sympathy that Domingo had to suppress a desire to laugh.

"But he cried. We were eating dinner and he gave this tiny little cry. I swear you could hardly hear it. And my mother sat up straight in her chair and said, 'What was that? What was that noise?' And I said something like, 'It's nothing, Mother. The wind, I expect.' And she ignored me and got up from her chair all in a rush, throwing her napkin down on the table.

"'You wicked child,' she said, giving me a disgusted look. 'What have you brought into this house?'

"And she didn't wait for an answer, but went marching up the stairs, with me running along behind her saying, 'Mother, it's nothing. Please, Mother. Please.' But she ignored me and went on up and flung open the door, and there was the little kitten. He was sitting on the floor in a puddle of wee, crying softly. My mother gave a grunt of disgust and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. Then, holding him at arms' length, as if he were something revolting, she marched back down the stairs. I ran after her, still crying, 'Mother, Mother, please.'"

Angela stopped and pressed her lips together for a moment. Then she went on in a wavering voice. "She went to the sink and ran the tap. Then she said, 'Come here, Angela'. And I knew what she was going to do and I couldn't stop. It was as if I were hypnotised. I walked towards her and I let her put the kitten in my hands. And then she grabbed my hands, kitten and all and plunged them into the water and held them down. And I was screaming and struggling, but she wouldn't let me go. And I could feel the poor little kitten wriggling in my hands, trying to breathe. And I was killing him. And when it was over all that was left was a sad little bundle of wet fur. It didn't look anything like the pretty little kitten it had been. 'Put it in the dustbin,' said my mother, with a sneer, 'and don't ever bring such a creature in my house again.' Oh, Domingo!" Angela threw herself against his chest, "I killed him! I killed him!" and she burst into a storm of violent weeping.

Domingo held her against him, pressing her head into his neck and stroking the back of her head. He was so angry he could barely speak. But at last, when the weeping had calmed down a little, he pushed her back from him and looked into her face.

"You did not kill the kitten, Angela," he said earnestly. "Your mother killed the kitten."

"No, no!" wailed Angela, "It was me! I killed the kitten!"

Domingo took her face in his hands again. "If a man kills another man with a knife," he said, "would you blame the knife?"

She looked back at him wildly.

"Your mother killed the kitten and she used you as a weapon. It was a cruel thing to do. I think she was worse than the wicked stepmother."