Free Porky by Deborah Moggach Page A

sitting on my nightie. ‘So am I.’
    He shifted, and we all got up and went into the bathroom. Dad was wearing his vest, and his underpants which were like shorts. In the light, I felt shy. I also felt terribly tired – more tired than I’d ever felt in my life. This night would never end. I felt as if big rocks had been dragged through my insides and left me as empty as a sausage skin. Teddy was laid on the floor. My hands, which did not seem to belong to me, were lifting his damp legs and pulling off his nappy. My hands got slower and slower. Dimly, I heard the cock crowing. The frosted window was still black, but it must be nearly dawn.
    Dad was lifting me up in his arms and carrying me out of the bathroom. He laid me on my bed, and I could hear him opening my chest of drawers. I heard Teddy squalling in the bathroom, all alone.
    I managed to say, ‘There aren’t any more nighties.’
    Hands lifted me, and I was carried back into his room. I was laid on the bed. The cupboard was opened, with a wheezing creak.
    â€˜Looking for a shirt,’ I heard, miles away. I wanted to tell him where Teddy’s nappies were, and Teddy’s clean nightie, but my head felt too heavy to raise. I didn’t want him to undress me; I didn’t have the energy for all that embarrassment.
    â€˜I’m all right in my nightie,’ I said. ‘Do Teddy.’
    Thumps and murmurs from the bathroom. He must be in there now, doing Teddy. At last he must have managed it; dimly, I saw him carrying Teddy in, blocking the light at the door. He lowered Teddy into the cot but Teddy started yelling, perhaps at meeting that wet sheet.
    â€˜Teddy-weddy, wettee-bedee,’ he murmured, and he put Teddy into my arms. My nightie must have dried by now, or perhaps Teddy and I were past minding. I was snuggling down between the sheets, and the bed was sinking as Dad climbed in beside us. The door was open and light shafted into the room. I wasn’t exactly asleep, as I held Teddy, but I was too exhausted to do anything except lie still and be pleased that Dad wasn’t going to change my nightie.
    Teddy kicked my stomach.
    â€˜Ouch!’ said Dad. He’d kicked him too. Teddy lay between us, spreadeagled like a starfish. Between my heavy eyelids I could see that these curtains were too short as well. I’d never noticed that. Grey glimmered beneath them; the cock crowed again.
    Dad’s breath on my face . . . ‘Night, night.’ His moustache pressed against me; his lips touched mine, which were closed and dry. I remember feeling that we’d done this before, though it was too far away to remember when. I didn’t want to know. In fact, I don’t want to tell you about this now; but I was too tired, then, to resist, and it’s certainly too late now. He put his arms around me . . . Teddy was a hot restless body between us . . . Dad’s breath was in my mouth. His tongue pushed into me.
    â€˜You smell of fruit gums,’ he murmured.
    I frowned. ‘I haven’t eaten any.’ I tried to wriggle away. ‘Honestly I haven’t.’
    He took a deep breath and let it out, shakily. ‘Everything sweet,’ he said, ‘. . . sweet and new . . .’
    We lay there, us three, clasped together. Teddy stopped kicking; he was lulled by our warmth. That big strange bed was our place . . . safe and sound. Not strange now. I was too sleepy to get up; by now I didn’t want to. The three of us were tucked into our raft, with that space all around, the awful possibilities . . . the draughty, fearful possibilities, like the floorboards being removed. Mum might not come back. Mum might not love us enough ever to come back . . . She might sell our home, just like that. That’s how much she minded . . .
    With all the kicking, my nightie was rolled up around my waist. I was sorry that I hadn’t worn my knickers,