Chapter Two

A Raging Storm

It happened one Sunday afternoon. The Rolands had all returned from Sunday service, and the troublesome threesome had trooped in merrily as they sang a hymn in a loud, mocking tone while their mother followed complacently behind them, smiling at her children's sport.

I had stayed behind from Church that day. It had meant to be a punishment because I had been 'caught out in a lie' the evening before, and so I was to miss the enjoyment of Sunday School which was my one highlight of the week, and my Aunt knew that full well. I had a dear Sunday School teacher. I think she sympathised with my plight, although she never spoke of it, but I think she could sense the resentment and contempt with which I was treated, and always had a special kind word and understanding smile for me. I think that it was her encouraging words, and uplifting smile that was another source of 'power' to keep me going through the week. I looked forward to seeing her every Sunday, and I always came away from her class feeling strengthened, revived and enable to face the rest of the day and the week ahead. Miss Joy Hope was her name, and it fitted her perfectly, for those were the two qualities that shone through her whole manner, and radiated out to me. Whether she was named for her nature, or whether she felt she had to live up to her name I do not know, but I do know she helped me through some of the toughest and depressing times of my childhood. It was her who introduced me to the Bible, and who told me about Jesus, and it was her who encouraged me to look to Him during the trials of my life, for in Him would I find a Friend who would never leave me or forsake me. I never really took that on board then. I don't think I believed I could have a real friendship with Someone I couldn't see or hear, and so it was Miss Hope I really looked to as my friend, although I never saw her but once a week at Sunday School. But her words did come back to me later on in life, when I faced the fiercest temptation and cruellest trial of my life.

But I digress, dear Reader. Let me stick to the story in hand.

Although the initial feeling was a sharp stab of disappointment when the sentence was passed over me by my Aunt, my bitter anguish soon melted into contentment and almost bliss as I leant back in the window seat downstairs, and settled down with my trusty companion: Chinese Cinderella by Adeline Yen Mah. It was one of my favourite books. I had read it about four times, but I think that somehow I struck the same chord with the character Adeline, especially as I knew that it was a true story. We were very much alike, I thought. We were both unwanted, neglected and unfairly and cruelly treated. We both did well at school, and Adeline went on to achieve much in her later life, and fulfilled her dream of attending university. I think perhaps this offered me hope, that one day, despite the dark days I faced now, I would one day live my dream of going away to university and leave all this misery behind me forever.

The warmth of the summer sun streamed in through the window, relaxing me, warming me. I sunk back into my seat with my legs drawn up close to me as I stretched out over the window seat, relishing the long fingers of the sun gently caressing my body as it penetrated through the window. I was alone, with no Jake to punch me, no Ellie to tease me, no Gemma to lie about me and thank goodness no Aunt to scold me. I felt carefree and even happy for almost two hours that lovely July morning, until the family returned home, of course. As soon as the door opened and they all marched in, having done their religious duty for the week and feeling the more righteous for sitting through another of the Pastor's hour long sermons, and yet none the better in character, peace escaped past them and they shut it out as they closed the door behind them. My hour of solitude was over for the day.

Ellie and Gemma rushed right past me, without a word or a look, giggling together as they dashed up the stairs. I didn't mind. I was used to being ignored. In fact, I wanted to be ignored, and left alone in my own little world to enjoy my book. With Jake around, however, I knew that this was impossible, and I feared him more than anyone else I have ever known.

I saw him slowly approaching me out of the corner of my eye. I could hear my heart thumping in my chest, almost as if it wanted to be let out and escape. That's what I wanted too: to escape. I couldn't; there was nowhere for me to go. He had seen me and I could sense in his demeanour and in the air about him that he meant me no good.

"Little bookworm," Jake began in a taunting tone. "Reading again?"

I made no answer, which seemed to aggravate him the more. "It's a shame you couldn't come this morning," Jake continued, changing his tone slightly to one of mocking condolence. "I feel for you, really I do. Miss Hope asked after you and I just hated having to tell her that you had to stay behind because you told a wicked lie. She seemed most shocked to hear it, but I informed her that sadly it's quite a regular nasty habit of yours."

My heart pounded fiercely inside my chest, so wildly that it almost felt like a burning sensation. I could feel myself going hot as my cheeks burned and a growing flame of intensity kindled in my eyes. I was unwittingly clenching my fists inside my lap as I fixed my burning eyes upon the form of my cousin, whose lips were curling in cruel jest. "You didn't?" I said, not daring to believe that Jake was capable of such monstrosity as this. I didn't care anymore what my Aunt and cousins thought of me, but to lose the good opinion of a woman I so loved and respected as Miss Hope was all too much for me.

"I certainly did," crowed Jake with a nasty smile. He knew he had riled me up, and was clearly enjoying the pain he was causing me. Then suddenly, after darting a quick look around, Jake leant forward and struck me across the face with one stinging blow, knocking my nose hard as he did so, whilst uttering in a harsh whisper, "Little Liar!" The searing pain of the blow stung madly across my face and hot tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. I put my hand up to my nose, and when I drew it away, there was a red liquid smudged over my fingers.

Thinking back, it was almost as if he wanted me to react, and if I had known that at the time, I wouldn't have given him the pleasure of succeeding at stirring me into a fight. In my blinding rage and anger, I sprang up from my seat and screamed at him, "You wicked, wicked boy! I HATE you! I HATE YOU!" I could still feel the awful stinging sensation from Jake's hard blow, and in one impulsive move, I struck Jake across his face with all the force I had, his cruel, false words feeding the fuel in my soul for revenge. I then fell upon him, pinning him to the ground, hitting and screaming at him with intense hatred and deep indignation.

The uproar of this scene sent Ellie and Gemma flying down the stairs in the greatest astonishment, and Aunt Carol hurrying to pull us apart. I felt the vice-like grip of her bony hands clutch at my arms tightly and heave me to my feet whilst shouting, "You wicked girl, Julia, attacking my poor boy like that! Get to your room now and don't you dare come out until I send for you!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I fled from the room and bounded up the stairs, hardly seeing where I was treading as all was such a blur before my eyes. I could hear Jake groaning and making the most out of the situation as he could possibly could, whilst his mother crooned over him, drinking in all the lies he fed her greedily. "She hit me, Mum," I heard him say. "All I did was tell her about our time at Sunday School, and she punched me!"

Sick to the stomach, I slammed my bedroom door behind me and locked the door. I didn't want to hear any more of his lies. I was trembling uncontrollably with agitation, grief and rage. I couldn't bare it anymore – I couldn't endure it here a moment longer, but what could I do and where could I go? Why did I have such a hard lot to bear? It didn't seem fair. It seemed as though any ray of sunshine that had touched my life was gone forever. A great shadow appeared to have fallen upon my life and all I could do was run to my bed, collapse onto it and sob out my frustration and anguish into the covers.

As I lay prostrate over the bed, my small frame shaking convulsively as the sobs racked my young body, I could feel the warmth of the sun through the window gradually fading away, until it had slipped behind a thick cloud and was completely overshadowed.