New Girl {Poldark}

chapter 8

Demelza POV

No. No no no no. She suddenly realised what Ross was talking about, and she stopped running her hands through his hair. She tried to pull her arm away but his grip was firm.

"Let go Ross."

"Why have you got bruises everywhere?" he persisted.

"It's nothing, leave it."

"Not until you tell me who did this," Ross said, still examining her arm. He looked up slowly. "Did you do this?" his voice was softer, more gentle. It made her want to run away.

"No."

"Then who did?"

There was silence as they both refused to stand down. That was their problem - they were both too stubborn, too proud. Ross stroked her cheek. "Your dad."

Tears threatened her eyes again and she banished them aggressively with the back of her hand, but they kept coming. She hated this, she hated crying, she hated Ross for chipping away at the wall she was building around the pain. She was just about getting through everything, and then he had to come along with his nice face and caring attention and set everything loose again.

Ross let her cry without doing anything, which she appreciated. She wished she'd been more careful and that he hadn't noticed the bruises. Now what would he think of her? A sad and lonely urchin, damaged beyond repair.

"Does he hit you?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"When?"

"Whenever he's drunk."

"And how often is that?"

"Twice, three times a week."

He swallowed and put an arm around her. "Jesus," he whispered. "You have a brother, right?" he continued.

She nodded and laid her head on his chest. "Two."

"Does he hit them?"

Demelza shook her head. "No. He's...he's never hit them. Because they're boys."

Ross frowned and kissed her again. She had never known much about guys, but she did know that she felt safe with Ross, that she trusted him, even if it was unwise.

"It's awful..." he said, "what you've been through. I'm so sorry." Demelza didn't know how to respond, so she just nodded. "Do...do you want to come back to mine? If it's not safe for you at home."

She thought about it. It definitely wasn't safe to go home, and what harm could it do? She was just about to say yes when a familiar figure came running towards them.

"Drake?" she called, standing up. "What is it?"

He came to halt in front of her, panting. "Sam sent me to get yee. You need to come home. Dad's in trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know but he's in a bad way, frothing at the mouth and all. We need to go." The urgency in his voice panicked her, but she had no choice. She looked back at Ross apologetically.

"I'll see you later Ross."

"Wait," he said, jogging towards them. "I'm coming."

Drake looked at the two of them, obviously bemused. "Let's go then."

They ran along the beach and across the main road, weaved through the suburbs and down a couple of alleyways until they found themselves in front of the Carne family home. Demelza opened the door forcefully, and stopped when she saw her dad lying on he floor.

It wasn't a pretty sight. He was evidently having a fit: foam billowed out of his mouth whilst his limbs shook uncontrollably. Sam was trying - and failing - to sedate him and was looking increasingly distressed.

"I don't what to do," he said desperately to Demelza. "It only just happened and I don't know what the emergency number is here."

Ross pulled out his phone and dialled 911. "I've got it. Let's hope he holds out until the ambulance gets here." He spoke to the operator and told them to get to the house as quickly as possible.

Demelza knelt down beside her dad. "Drake, get a cloth," she called over her shoulder. He ran to the kitchen and chucked it to her.  Minutes passed as all three siblings tried to stop the man from injuring himself further. Ross stood helplessly and waited for the ambulance.

Sirens finally pierced the awful silence as two vehicles came speeding round the corner. The paramedics lifted her dad onto a stretcher, placing him inside the ambulance. They all swiftly followed.

*

"Mr. Carne is awake," a nurse announced as they sat in the waiting room. Demelza looked at Sam and Drake, but they both shook their heads. Ross stood to go with her. "I'll wait outside," he said.

The nurse led them to the room where her dad was. "Be careful," she said in a hushed voice. "We're not sure how much time he has left."

Gingerly, she stepped in and tried to ignore the deadly hospital smell. He looked awful - tubes were glued to his arms and neck and there were still traces of froth on his clothes. He opened his eyes and beckoned her over with his finger. "Come 'ere child," he rasped.

She obeyed and waited for him to speak again, which seemed like forever.

"I've done wrong, Demelza," he finally said. "A lot of it. T'wasn't right of me to do those things when your mother died. I know ee won't forgive me, but I'm sorry. Truly."

She could feel herself starting to cry. "Where are your brothers?" he asked.

"Outside," she whispered.

"Tell 'em I'm sorry." He closed his eyes again and didn't speak.

Anger and resentment slowly boiled up inside her. "Is that it?" she wanted to shout. "Is that all you have to say?"  He thought  'sorry' was enough? 'Sorry' didn't make up for all the trouble and distress he had put his family through, 'sorry' didn't excuse the way he'd neglected them when Mum had died, 'sorry' didn't fulfil all those empty years she'd spent without a mother, 'sorry' didn't dissolve the scars and bruises he'd left all over her body. She swallowed the urge to scream at him, to make him see what he'd done, how he'd broken her.

The tears fell, for the second time that day, onto her cheeks. She heard Ross come into the room and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Tell that boy I'm sorry too," he said, his eyes still closed.

"Sorry for what?" Ross asked in a grim tone.

But her dad was fading, his breathing becoming steadily fainter. "

"Sorry for what?" Ross repeated.

He tried to respond but drew a sharp breath inside. He exhaled slowly outwards and his facial muscles relaxed. That's when Demelza knew he was gone.

She pressed her forehead into Ross's shoulder. She didn't care that she was crying, she just didn't want to look at her dad. She couldn't.

"What's that?" She heard Ross say.

"What?" She lifted her head up and looked to where he was pointing. A piece of paper was resting on the other side of the bed where her dad lay.

She turned away. "You get it," she said to Ross. "I can't do it."

Ross leaned over and unfolded it, showing it to her. She recognised her dad's almost illegible scrawl as she read the words written on the page.

Miss Caroline Penvenen
Fenningtom Road
Kensington
London