The Knapthorne Conspiracy Malcolm Ballard (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📖

from being excited about his daughter's birth Frank chose to ignore her at every opportunity but, worse still, his attitude extended to Mary as though he had made a decision to have as little as possible to do with the upbringing of his daughters

As can often be the way, Frank's misfortune brought out the best in Doris. A cheerful, bustling woman by nature she had the stout figure of her mother, with solid limbs and a robust constitution and the physiognomy of a carefree, if somewhat overweight mother who could manage to see a good side to almost any situation. Practical and down-to-earth, she was as Dorset as Chesil Beach, with the county of her birth impregnating her speech and identifying her origins as surely as a watermark on paper. Resigned to the fact that the man she had married was gone for ever she was also realistic enough to admit, with typical self-deprecating humour, that neither was she the slim, young thing he had pledged himself to. It was obvious that Frank was going through a dark time, the like of which she’d never know, which affected him dramatically and he wouldn’t open up about. It never entered her head to walk out on him and leave him by himself to fight his demons. In the mind of Doris Allsop marriage was a permanent arrangement for better or worse and she took comfort in reminding herself that they were fortunate to have had some good times and she was blessed with two lovely girls.  So, with stoic practicality she set about making a life for herself and her daughters. Certainly, there were still some good times, when the clouds parted for Frank, the sun shone briefly, and they were a real family. Doris could only ponder on how things might have been if only he hadn't have had the accident. As time passed the girls began to develop their own personalities. Mary happiest when helping with the cooking or housework while Gina grew into something of a tomboy. Both girls were cautious around their father, wary of his darker side and learning when to avoid him. Already he was planting an imprint on their young minds that would affect both of their lives, in separate ways, in years to come.

As she grew up, Gina could turn her hand to most things in the home or out on the farm. Inquisitive by nature, she was always seeking to find out how things were made, how they worked or looking to try something new but if it involved anything on the farm she was careful not to cross her father. Ned, the old handyman, would often demonstrate his practical skills with the machinery for her but even he was wary of her father discovering them together. As for the young labourers they took any opportunity to be around Gina as she grew older, typical of lads of their age, but God help them if her father ever caught them. Deprived of the social company of males and starved of love or even affection by her father she had never really known what it was like to be treated nicely by a man, except for Ned, but he was as old as Methuselah and always so nervous in her company. The two sisters had always got on well but when Mary left home at the first opportunity, at the age of twenty, Gina became quite depressed. It had been her mother’s idea to get her a pony and Frank had taken a fair bit of persuading but, in the end, he’d agreed.

Having the freedom to get out and away from the farm had changed her life irrevocably and opened up new horizons. It had also provided her with the opportunity to put some distance between herself and her father whenever the need arose. Suddenly she felt more alive than at any time in her young existence and, as she entered her teens, for the first time in her life she experienced real independence. It was a heady feeling to someone whose movements had been dictated and, accordingly, restricted by the demands of life on the farm, going to school and the repressive presence of her father. It was a feeling, too, that had begun to sow the seeds of rebellion in young Gina. By the time she turned sixteen, the year was 1978 and England was experiencing a revolution like no other in its history. Even in the more remote parts of Dorset, no teenager with red blood in her veins could escape the gospel of peace and love promulgated as it was through the exciting mediums of television and the transistor radio by the throbbing, insistent beat of pop music.  She was no different to millions of others of her generation. Gina wanted somebody to hold her hand, to kiss her, and she yearned for someone to love.

 Although she had never so much as been out on a date with a boy, thanks to life on the farm she was well aware of what the male and female of the species indulged in to reproduce. Until recently, she had never had occasion to dwell on what that experience might be like but her body had begun to receive messages that stimulated her mind. A powerful hormonal surge from deep within her. She had witnessed the cycle of mating and birth with the animals on the farm, even helping to deliver calves and horses. With her mother’s guidance, it had given her an understanding of her own body and the changes that had occurred and, in some cases, were still continuing to occur. These changes had seen her body begin to fill out, her shape become more feminine. She now had hips and a bust and her mother would eye her enviously remembering the shapely young thing she herself had once been, a far cry from the buxom figure she possessed now. Gina was no great beauty but