Candy was frightened.
It took her a while to figure out she was frightened, because she had become
so used to doing exactly as she pleased, causing maximum drama at maximum
expense – generally everybody else’s. But she had never experienced her
father’s anger – never even seen him angry, come to think of it - until that
moment when he had roared her name so loudly the roof almost shook. He had
barged into her room, told her in an ice cold voice to get herself down to
his study now.
‘I’m going out.’ Candy had looked at him as if he was stupid.
‘I said,’ Ossie repeated thinly. ‘You. Downstairs. In my study. NOW.’
Candy’s mouth dropped open.
He had looked at her strangely then, as if she was a sort of insect.
Something had made her obey him, and not reiterate the fact that she was
going out - indeed had to go out - to meet or rather to find Josh. She
dropped the brush she had been about to put through her hair and heard it
rattle on the dressing table as she left the room. Downstairs he had all but
propelled her into his study and closed the door. Candy would never forget
the hideous moments that followed.
‘Go over to my computer.’ He commanded, in a voice she had never heard
before.
‘What?’
‘Do as I say.’
Candy walked over to the vast mahogany desk and stood behind it.
‘Sit down.’
She did, wondering had her father taken leave of his senses, only this
dangerous, sinister tone he was using was making her very uneasy.
‘Open the email in my inbox.’
Again, Candy did as she was told. Something about sex on the internet? What
was this? Some ridiculous sex thing that was being passed around…?’
‘Read it. Carefully.’
Take a look at this, Mr Keating, and let me know what it’s worth NOT to see
your daughter having sex on the internet…
Still she didn’t get it. Was this some sort of joke?
‘Now click on the attachment, Candice – on the j-peg.’
So she did. And thought she was going to pass out. She sat there, frozen and
sick, unable to speak. Eventually she managed to whisper – ‘wh-what are you
going to do?’
‘I’m going to think very carefully about this, Candice,’ he said, in the
same, strange, measured voice, ‘and about you. You are going to do the same.
As for the kind of people you are….mixing with…..’ he let the words hang in
the air….’well you can see quite clearly what they think of you.’ That hit
her like a forceful blow.
He continued. ‘You will go to your room and stay there. You may go down to
the kitchen to eat, if you need to – but consider yourself under house
arrest. You will hand over your phone and laptop and have no access to
phones or computers of any kind. I have my best security people on this and
if you so much as attempt to send out one text message – all hell will break
loose. Do I make myself clear? Now get back upstairs to your room and stay
there until you hear from me again. And…..’ he paused. ‘Your mother will
have to be told about this. I imagine she will have something to say about
it too.’
‘Please….’she whispered. ‘Not Mum….please Daddy, don’t tell Mum…’ she
begged.
‘Don’t think it gives me any pleasure, Candice. I can only imagine how
horrified and hurt she is going to be – but she must be told. Your behaviour
leaves me no alternative. Your appalling carry on may not only have
destroyed your own life as you know it – but caused enormous distress to a
wonderful mother – whatever about you – she doesn’t deserve this.’
That had been two days ago. She had stayed in her room – she couldn’t even
think about facing anyone. But today she had been faint with hunger and had
tiptoed downstairs to get herself some breakfast. Shalom was in the kitchen
when she got down there. Neither of them said a word. Even Shalom looked
shocked and uncomfortable. She avoided making eye contact and appeared
relieved when Candy took her mug of tea and slice of toast upstairs with
her….the silence had been deafening.
It was like awaiting execution, Candy thought, shivering.
© 2009
Fiona O'Brien
