Free A Wanton Tale by Paula Marie Kenny Page A

husband. ‘You made too much of her when she was young, telling her she had ‘titian’ coloured hair, telling her how lovely it was, as far as I’m concerned it’s red, it’s wiry and out of control.’
    â€˜What are you talking about? It’s not that. It’s far more serious.’ Said May. ‘Children and even the teachers ridicule her, calling her names.’
    â€˜But the girl’s fourteen, she should be used to that by now.’ Answered Arthur dismissively, now bored with discussing his daughter.
    â€˜For heaven’s sake Arthur.’ Said May exasperated. ‘Listen to me!’
    â€˜Well, if it’s women’s problems or the other, you’ll have to sort it out.’ Snorted Arthur burying himself in his paper. ‘Anyway, she seems to like her hair now.’
    May had to think before realising that ‘the other’ meant sex. ‘No, this is worrying. She says she can see things that no one else can see. She claims to be able to see the future. She’s always making things up. The headmistress says that it is not right that she is such a story-teller at her age. The teachers even suggest that she might have a mental problem. Sophie gets so upset when she is not believed, she says that she can see things that others cannot.’
    â€˜I see.’ Arthur’s dark blue eyes squinted in the clouds of sweet tobacco smoke. ‘Well she’s either having hallucinations or she’s quite simply an attention seeker.’
    â€˜I’m worried about her. She’s good at art but in this day and age it’s not good enough.’ May was unable to contain the anxiety in her voice. ‘Some of the things she says are disturbing. She frightened poor Millie Bradshaw to death with her playground comments last week. The girl was in floods of tears.’
    â€˜What did she say to her for goodness sake?’ Arthur was now having difficulty in concentrating on the subject which he regarded as frivolous.
    â€˜She said that she could see a purple glowing light around her head and that she had a premonition that she would be hurt in a terrible accident. She warned her to stay away from motor cars!’ May looked down, holding the back of her hand to her mouth in exasperation. ‘There are other similar tales from her. I’ve got to work at that school, the Millie affair was highly embarrassing. I was called into the Head’s office and sat there humiliated while she received a dressing down. I had to go and see Mrs. Bradshaw to apologise and I’m tired of making excuses for her.’
    â€˜Well, I agree our daughter is good at art. Perhaps she’s a highly strung, creative, type, a bit sensitive, I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm.’ Said Arthur a little impatiently.
    May was going to tell her husband some more of Sophie’s fantastical tales but thought better of it. She knew this was not a teenage phase. Her daughter had told stories since she was old enough to string a sentence together. But a look from Arthur, as he drew deeply from his pipe, was enough. May decided to keep quiet, it was a waste of time discussing it further.
    She nestled down on the sofa and snatched the Daily Mail from the coffee table, deliberately creating an annoying rustle. She guarded her face with the paper to break eye contact with her husband. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile to herself as she imagined her po-faced husband’s reaction to the children’s talk she had heard most days in the playground about ‘the other.’
    May tried to clear her mind of worry about her daughter and began to absorb herself in the news. ‘Economic output continues to fall affecting coalmining, shipbuilding and steel, I expect we will soon have a Labour government.’ She mused. As he struck a Swan Vesta match to relight his pipe, Arthur pondered how the slump would affect his livelihood. Husband and