A Great Deliverance - By Elizabeth George Page 0,128

was absolutely nothing. Only the unbearable sound of Gillian's personal torment. Roberta was motionless. She might have been deaf.

"Tommy," Lady Helen whispered. "I can't bear this. She's done it for nothing."

Lynley stared into the next room. His head was pounding, his throat ached, his eyes burned. He wanted to find William Teys, find him alive, and tear the man savagely limb from limb. He had never known such rage, such sickness. He felt Gillian's anguish overcome him like a disease.

But her weeping had lessened. She was getting to her feet. She was walking unevenly, numbly, to the door. Her hand reached for the knob. She turned it, pulled it open. Her presence had been useless after all. It was over.

"Did he make you have the naked parade, Gilly?" Roberta asked.
Chapter 16
As if under water, Gillian turned slowly from the door at the sound of her sister's husky voice. "Tell me," she whispered. She walked back to her chair, moved it closer to the other, and sat down.

Roberta's eyes, heavy-lidded under their protective folds of fat, werefixed but unfocused on her sister. Her lips worked convulsively. The fingers of one hand flexed. "It was music. Loud.

He would take off my clothes." And then the girl's voice altered. It became honey-toned, insinuatingly persuasive, chillingly male. "Pretty baby. Pretty baby and Time to march, pretty baby. Time to march for Papa. And he would...it was in his hand... Watch what Papa does while you march, pretty baby."

"I left the key for you, Bobby," Gillian said brokenly. "When he fell asleep that night in my bed, I went to his room and I found the key. What happened to it? I left it for you."

Roberta struggled with information buried so long beneath the weight of her childhood terrors. "I didn't...didn't know. I locked the door. But you never said why. You never said to keep the key."

"Oh God." Gillian's voice was anguished. "Are you saying that you locked the door at night but in the day you left the key in the keyhole? Bobby, is that what you mean?"

Roberta drew her arm across her damp face. It was like a shield, and behind its protection she nodded. Her body heaved with a repressed cry. "I didn't know."

"So he found it and took it away."

"He put it in his wardrobe. All the keys were there. It was locked. I couldn't get it.

Don't need keys, pretty baby. Pretty baby, march for Papa."

"When did you march?"

"Daytime, nighttime.

Come here, pretty baby, Papa wants to help you march."

"How?"

Roberta's arm dropped. Her face was quickly shuttered. Her fingers picked and pulled at her lower lip.

"Bobby, tell me how," Gillian insisted. "Tell me what he did."

"I love Papa. I love Papa."

"Don't say that!" She reached out, grabbed her sister's arm. "Tell me what he did to you!"

"Love, Love Papa."

"Don't say that! He was evil!"

Roberta shrank from the word. "No. I was evil."

"How?"

"What I made him...he couldn't help...he prayed and prayed and couldn't help...you weren't there... Gilly knew what I wanted. Gilly knew how to do me. You're no good, pretty baby. March for Papa. March on Papa."

"March on Papa'?" Gillian gasped. "Up and down in one place. Up and down.

That's nice, pretty baby. Papa big between your legs."

"Bobby. Bobby." Gillian averted her face. "How old were you?"

"Eight. Mmmmm, Papa likes to feel all over. Likes to feel and feel and feel."

"Didn't you tell anyone? Wasn't there anyone?"

"Miss Fitzalan. I told. But she didn't...she couldn't..."

"She didn't do anything? She didn't help?"

"She didn't understand. I said whiskers... his face when he rubbed me. Didn't understand.

Did you tell, pretty baby? Did you try to tell on Papa? "

"Oh God, she told him?"

"Gilly never told. Gilly never told on Papa. Very bad, pretty baby. Papa needs to punish you."

"How?"

Roberta gave no answer. Instead, she began to rock, began to return to the place she had inhabited so long.

"You were only eight years old!" Gillian began to cry. "Bobby, I'm sorry! I didn't know!

I didn't think he would. You didn't look like me. You didn't look like Mummy."

"Hurt Bobby in the bad place. Not like Gilly. Not like Gilly."

"Not like Gilly?"

"Turn over, pretty baby. Papa has to punish you."

"Oh my God!" Gillian fell to her knees, took her sister into her arms. She sobbed against her breast, but the girl did not respond. Instead, her arms hung limply at her sides and her body tensed as if the proximity of her sister was frightening or distasteful. "Why didn't you come to Harrogate? Didn't you see the