Free The Father's House by Larche Davies

“You’ve got your homework to do yet.”
    â€œYes, Aunt Sarah,” whispered Lucy.

David lay in the dark under the bottom shelf in the laundry cupboard. The remorse was eating him up. Why had he done it? What a fool! A cruel fool. It was a dare. Matthew had done it first and it had seemed funny to watch the girl in front of him tense up – but he’d never even thought about Lucy. Now he realised of course that she would have reacted somehow or other, her being so weird and everything, but it would never have occurred to him that she’d have laughed! Even Matthew had been shocked.
    He knew he shouldn’t have come here – he and Dorothy had agreed it was too risky for them both to use the linen cupboard – but he just couldn’t face anyone yet. Him and his stupid-trying-to-be-funny jokes! Funny to him and Matthew maybe, but not to anyone else. And look at the damage they’d caused.
    Gradually the heat of his shame subsided, and he started trying to think of how he could make amends. But there was nothing. She’d never speak to him again, and their plan to be friends with her had been totally destroyed. Serve them right. They could have seen that she needed a friend for the past ten years if they’d bothered to look. If they were honest, they’d really only wanted to use her.
    The kitchen aunts were clattering away below. It must be nearly supper time and he’d have to get moving, but first he had work to do. They were bound to be gossiping about the latest scandal. He rolled over with difficulty in the confined space and put his ear to the listening corner.
    When the father arrived home at seven o’clock Lucy was struggling to concentrate. The words in her text book stared up at her meaninglessly. As she heard the heavy footsteps enter the side door something gripped her chest and she could hardly breathe. She shrank into her chair as Father Copse turned the key to the door that led from the lobby to the kitchen. He strode in, but didn’t look at her.
    â€œDid you use the guidance?” he asked Aunt Sarah.
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œHow many strokes?”
    â€œSeven.” She mentally asked the Magnifico to forgive the lie.
    The father turned to Lucy. “You mocked the Magnifico and disgraced this house.”
    He grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her to her feet and shook her. Her head felt as if it would fall off. He dragged her into the hall and opened the door to the coal cellar. The wooden steps disappeared down into a black hole.
    â€œGet in there and stay there till I say you can come out.” Picking her up with both hands, he threw her down the steps and shut the door. The key turned in the lock.
    Lucy lay where she fell. Her back and shoulder hurt and her legs were stinging. She lay very still. Everything was so black she didn’t dare move in any direction. She closed her eyes and opened them but the blackness didn’t go away. Her ears strained for the sound of rats, or beetles, or monsters, and her skin prickled. Her hair was still wet from the rain and felt like a cap of ice. For a while she lost consciousness.
    When she came to her eyes seemed more used to the darkness. Looking up she could see a faint ring of light in the roof at the far end of the cellar. Stiffly she rolled over onto her hands and knees and groped her way towards it. Something scuttled away from her. She knocked against boxes and bits of wood. Her hands and knees crunched into fragments of coal, and the smell of mould and damp coal dust filled her nostrils. As she approached the ring of light the shapes beneath it became faintly visible, and she could see that the floor rose upwards into a steep slope. She lay against the slope, her arms outstretched, searching for a grip on the rough concrete.
    A push with her left knee and then the toes of her right foot took her part way up towards the light, only to slip back grazing her legs in the