Grace took several deep breaths as she lay down on her bed. She could feel hot anger rising inside of her.

What a hypocrite he is, she thought. It was obvious he had been seeing another woman. She wondered how long that had been going on. ‘Adultery’ was his pet sermon theme. He was forever preaching to his flock to learn how to control their urges.

“Remember, you are breaking one of God’s commandments when you commit adultery,” she had heard him say numerous times from the pulpit.

Grace shook her head in anger. For the first time she liked the idea of him not being her father.

She began to think again of her mum’s dying words to her. Could it possibly be true? Could her father be responsible for killing her mother? Maybe he hadn’t killed her himself. But had he sent somebody else to do the job for him?

These thoughts whirled around and around in her mind until she thought she was going mad.

It then occurred to Grace that she knew very little about her mother before she married her father. Angela rarely spoke about her youth – what ambitions she had, and who her friends were. Grace knew about trivial stuff: that she didn’t like sweet things; blue was her favourite colour; she loved yellow roses.

She didn’t even know if Mum was religious in her own right. Did she believe in all the doctrine her father preached from the pulpit?

What had her mother done with her life before she met her father? She knew her mum was an only child. Her grandmother had raised her, because her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was only four years old.

She recalled her father saying several times, “I rescued her. I gave her a home and a family.”

When he said that, Angela would dutifully lower her head and say nothing.

Then Grace’s thoughts were interrupted as she heard her father rattle her door.

“Grace, Grace. Are you in there?”

She stood up slowly and went to answer the door. She knew that if she didn’t, he would probably break it down.

“You can’t hide yourself away in your room. The devil makes work for idle hands.”

“Shut up!” she yelled before she could stop herself.

He got such a surprise he stepped back in shock.

“I’d like to know why you called my mother ‘a whore’. Are you my father or not? What else are you hiding?”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” He raised his hand to slap her face.

Grace caught his hand in time. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on me.”

“You’re like the cuckoo in my nest,” he hissed. “For your mother’s sake I pretended you were my daughter. I fed and clothed you all these years – and this is what I get in return.”

***

Tell us what you think: Is Grace behaving bravely, or foolishly, speaking to her ‘father’ like that?