Today has been the most shameful day of my life. My father is a monster and there is not a thing I can do about it. A monster, a bully, a thug. I can't believe that only this morning when we left the house looking for firewood, I looked up to this man. I was so proud that he was taking me with him to do a man's work. I felt important to be invited onto the demesne. We were there with special permission.
Lady Sarah allowed us onto her land. She had trusted my father with her trees. And then he 'killed' one of her beauties. I watched it crashing to the ground. It seemed to take forever. It put up a good fight but it was hopeless. There was no stopping him.
That tree must have been like family to her. Beatrice. You could see it in her eyes. And what else does she have up in that big house? A bunch of servants who gossip about her down in the village. Servants who sneer behind her back just as father does. And he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew all along. I can't believe I was afraid for him. A little old lady in a funny hat, and my father kills something she loved for spite. It had to be spite. Although what she ever did on him, I'll never know. And I'll never understand.
He made fun of her; winking and grinning as if she couldn't see. He made fun of her giving the tree a name . 'I remember you saying the tree's name is Andy.' I can't believe he mocked her like that. It wasn't about the firewood. He enjoyed her pain. He enjoyed the look on her face and the quiver in her voice. The look of a lonely spinster with eyes like tiny red dots of dismay. He tried to blame it on me, but that was just a gesture. She knew. She saw him for what he really is, just as I now see him for what he really is. I wanted to help her into her car, to pat her on the arm and tell her it would be alright, but I was rooted to the ground by shock and shame, while he sneered and sniggered, enjoying the upper hand.
He sang all the way home. No doubt he'll be boasting about this in...