Youll dare to boss me around again! Victor shoved his daughter, and she stumbled back, striking a small cupboard.
Anne would never forget that spring afternoon. Her friends had gathered in her modest terraced house on the edge of Leeds, preparing for the upcoming wedding. The air was heavy with the scent of warm apple pie from her mothers oven and sweet lilacs that Theresa had brought. Outside, birds sang, and a gentle May breeze slipped through the open window, teasing the light curtains.
His genes arent exactly topnotch! her friends warned, trying to steer the lovesick bridetobe away. Just look how he handles a drink. Think of his father! Remember how old Edward used to cause a ruckus at the factory gate? Anne absentmindedly stirred her tea with a slice of lemon, brushing their concerns aside. At twentytwo, she was head over heels; to her, Victor was perfecthandsome, confident, strong. At twentyseven, he was already foreman at the engineering plant where his father had started as a mechanic. The occasional whiff of alcohol on his breath she blamed on youthful exuberance and his mates. Itll pass, she thought, recalling how Victor had courted her with roses and long rides around town in his battered Morris Minor.
Anne, love, her close friend Maggie said, you saw his mood on New Years Eve. He changes completely when he drinks. Remember how he almost fought with the nightwatchman, Peter? But Anne remembered something elsehow Victor had shown up the next morning, kneeling in the garden with a massive bouquet of carnations, serenading her beneath the window, much to the delight of the neighbourly grandmothers.
The wedding was splendidheld at the towns premier restaurant, with live music and fireworks lighting up the River Aire. Victor was sober and charming, dancing with his bride until they were both breathless, delivering heartfelt toasts. Anne glowed in a white dress, specially ordered from a boutique in Manchester, while her friends whispered enviously about the happy couple. The first months of marriage felt like a fairy tale. The new twobedroom flat, bought by Victors parents, became their first shared nest. By then, Edward had risen to floor manager and helped his son secure the home. Anne lovingly arranged the placehanging curtains and decorating sills with fresh flowers. Victor would often come home with little presents, whether sweets or a new vase for her beloved chrysanthemums.
Their pregnancy arrived at the end of summer. Returning from the country cottage, baskets brimming with apples and tomatoes, Anne felt a sudden weakness and dizziness. Victor tended to her with care, even buying a home pregnancy test himself; when the two lines appeared, he spun her round the kitchen in joy.
The joy was shortlived. A week after that bright moment, everything shifted. For the first time, Victor drank so heavily he lost consciousness, shouting that he wasnt ready to be a father, that they were too young, that they should have waited. Anne wept for a long while, then dismissed it as fear of responsibility. The next morning Victor apologized, swore never to drink again, and promised to be a good dad.
The pregnancy proved difficult. Anne spent many weeks in hospital on bed rest, while Victors visits grew rarer. When he did appear, the smell of alcohol clung to him. He tried to hide his intoxicationsoft speech, careful stepsbut his eyes, rimmed with red veins, gave him away.
When their daughter Mia was born, Victor never set foot in the maternity ward. Anne later learned he had spent three consecutive days drinking in a friends garage, celebrating the birth of their child. That marked the beginning of the end of their marriage.
Five long years passed in a haze of endless arguments. Little Mia grew into a bright, beautiful girl, yet her childhood was scarred by constant conflict. Victors drinking grew more frequent, and money disappeared at the Dockside Pub on River Street. To make ends meet, Anne took a job as an accountant at a small firm. Her motherinlaw helped look after the granddaughter, and after Victors death from liver cirrhosis, Anne was too frightened to contradict her son.
You must be drinking when Im not here! Victor would roar, bursting in late at night. Where did you get the money for a new dress? Who are you seeing at work? Anne stayed silenther dress had been bought by her mother. Talking to a drunken husband was futile; he would never believe a word she said, suspecting infidelity, monitoring her every move, and causing scandals even at her workplace.
Mia was terrified of her father. At the sound of his footsteps on the stairs she would hide in a wardrobe or run to the neighbourAunt Valerie. The little girl grew increasingly anxious, often crying at night, though she excelled at school as an escape from the turmoil at home.
That fateful autumn night went wrong from the start. Late September brought a fine drizzle. Mia was turning six, and Anne had planned a small celebration. A neighbour helped bake a Birds Milk cake, balloons were strung around the room, and two of Mias kindergarten friends were invited. Victor had promised to return soberhe had recently found a new job and was supposedly drinking less, offering a glimmer of hope.
Instead, he arrived unusually early, around seven, already heavily intoxicated and reeking of cheap homebrewed spirit. Mia was just about to blow out the candles when her father stormed in.
What kind of party is this without me? he shouted, overturning the table. The cake crashed onto the floor, the girls screamed and fled to the hallway, and Mia burst into tears.
Why are you doing this? Anne asked softly, trying to rescue the cake. Its her sixth birthday, after all
Victor seized her by the hair. Shut up, you brute! Who gave you permission to boss me around in my house?
Dad, stop! Mia cried, stepping between them as Victor swung at her mother. He shoved Mia, and she hit a wardrobe, wincing in pain. That was the last straw. Anne grabbed a heavy crystal vasea wedding gift from her colleaguesand struck Victor on the head.
Victor collapsed like a felled tree. On the white carpeta housewarming present from his motherinlawa dark stain spread. Mia curled in a corner, clutching her beloved stuffed bear.
With trembling hands, Anne dialed the police: Please I think Ive killed my husband. Take care of my little girl, please. Shes innocent.
The trial was swift. Considering her emotional distress, her clean work record, and the fact
