In some ways, I was relieved. I’d been carrying the burden of this secret for months, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew what I was doing when I did the Big Terrible Thing. I knew what I was risking. I had just hoped that I could hide in plain sight, that I could keep my head down like I always did and blend into the background as usual.
But, because of Rafe, the spotlight had fallen on me, and now blending into the background was no longer an option.
“Nobody leaves until we find the snitch,” Dad said slowly, his head tilting to the side. The steadiness of his words was scarier really. With my father, controlled violence when he was in his right mind, when he was sober, was actually worse than the spontaneous violence that erupted from his drinking. “Tell me, Clara, have I not provided a good life for you and your little shit of a brother?”
I cleared my throat and glanced at Mum, who was still staring vacantly into space. Dad took a step closer, and my gaze flew back to him.
“Of course you have, Dad,” I said in a small voice.
“You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” he returned. “You swan off, go to uni, like you’re a big shot, just to earn a fucking pittance as a teacher. No, scrap that, not even a proper teacher, are you? Just an assistant, just a grunt. I pay our cleaner more than you get.”
“Yes, Dad,” I whispered.
“Putting ideas into Zach’s head so that he’s put off joining the family business.”
I nearly snorted at that. Family business? Dad was talking like we owned a chain of department stores orsomething. Not sold drugs, blackmailed people and terrorised a large portion of East London. Some business.
I shook my head slowly. “I didn’t mean to––”
“Don’t contradict me, you little bitch!” he shouted, slamming his hand down on the table and making both me and Mum jump.
I took a small step back, and his gaze shot to my feet before his lip curled in disgust.
“I’ve had some information today from one of my grasshoppers. Now this guy, he tells me that the snitch is a member of my own family. I says to him, ‘Mate, none of my family are gonna be that bloody stupid,’ but this fucking guyinsists. When I press him, the bastard shows me a photo.”
Dad pulled his phone from his back pocket and my heart sank as my blood ran cold. Everything moved very fast then. He advanced on me, and I lurched back. But I came up against the kitchen sideboard and I didn’t duck fast enough. He grabbed me by my hair and held the phone up in front of my face.
“Do you see what I see?” he said in that low, dangerous voice again. My eyes stung with tears as he yanked on my hair. His phone screen blurred in front of me but not before I’d seen an image of me sitting in an interview room, talking to Grant – Superintendent Mitchell.
“It’s not what it looks like, Dad,” I whispered and he barked out a laugh.
“Oh really? Because it looks like a skinny, four-eyed, disloyal runt selling out her entire family to the pigs. That’s what it looks like to me.”
“Dad, I?—”
“You’ve fucked up everything. Do you even realise what you’ve done? They have so much shit on us now it’ll take a fucking miracle to dig our way out. The wholefucking organisation is going to go down for this, you stupid bitch!” He screamed the last part, yanking my head even further back until my neck was bent at an unnatural angle.
“Frank, please,” Mum’s voice came from behind Dad. She was standing behind him now, wringing her hands in front of her as she looked between us.
“Sit the fuck down, Marie,” Dad snarled.
“Please, Frank. Clara’s sorry, aren’t you, love? Don’t hurt her anymore. She just?—”
Dad dropped my hair as he spun around to face Mum, his face red with fury. His hand was a blur as it went whistling through the air to backhand her. I cried out as she was sent flying onto her hands and knees on the floor.
“Maybe now you’ll shut…” he aimed a kick at Mum which connected with her side and she crumbled in a small heap, “…the fuck…” another kick, “…up.”
He turned back to me, ignoring Mum’s whimpers on the floor as she attempted to crawl away from him. “See what you’ve made me do to your mother?” he asked.
I stared at him, not shying away from eye contact this time. The terror was still there, but after watching him attack Mum there was something else building in my chest, like a small spark of fury had been lit and was gradually catching fire.
So yes, I made eye contact with the bastard, and for once, I didn’t look away.
“You cowardly piece of shit,” I said through my teeth and shock crossed his expression, quickly replaced by anger.
“What the fuck did you say to me?”
“You heard me, old man,” I taunted. “You’re a fucking coward.”
