father as he pulled her bare. His awful breath came hard and fast as the blows fell.
"I saw you—I saw you!" Vida screamed, hoping she would die and never have to see her parents again.
Chapter 10
SOFT SHOE VS. ART OF THE BALLET
To Lucy, 410 Brick had become the special property of Clem and herself. On afternoons when Clem was otherwise engaged she would shove aside the wicker chairs of the first-floor clubroom to practice.
Ever since the sleighride she had avoided Harry despite his sheepish attempts to date her. And for several weeks it seemed as if Vida was avoiding her. Did she see her father that night? Poor Vida. It wasn't my fault. If she feels like that I can't help it. I don't blame her. Trouble with Vida is she's such a kid. Men are like that. Not Clem. Guess I'd feel the same way about a father like Vida's.
Her own father was a haze on a little-girl horizon, someone who made mother cry.
Vida was not so easily delivered. The morning after witnessing her father embracing Lucy she could not release herself from nightmare sleep. Mrs. Bertrand had to pull off the covers to shake her awake.
"Get up, get up, or you'll be late for school."
Vida avoided looking at her mother, wondering miserably whether she knew. She could not erase the image of the two embracing figures in the moonlit snow.
"I'm not hungry," she said bleakly, pulling the shaggy red tarn over her ears for fear of what she might hear. But the rasping voice penetrated.
"Don't blame me if you get sick because you're too lazy to get up for breakfast. And another thing. Your pa says he don't want to catch you having anything to do with that—floozie—next door. You're to stay away from her—hear!"
