One evening, when Arabella Denzel was seven, her father came home looking slightly tipsy.
It was therefore natural, perhaps, that the maid rushed her out of the dining room and up the stairs. This being a normal occurrence, didn't bother Arabella. She simply opened up her doll house and tried to ignore the shouts that she knew would follow.
They did not come.
She had barely lifted up her favourite doll (a present from her mother for being such a good girl) when her mother burst into the room.
"Bell, darling" exclaimed the woman, "your father has something to show you." Arabella shrugged, what did she care?
Although her mother had tried to hide what her father teally was, Arabella's friends had been all too happy to inform her that her father was a drunk.
"No he isn't!" The girl had cried, "Lara don't say that!" But pretty little Lara with golden curls and perfect blue eyes had continued. "My daddy says that he is. My daddy says that he sees your father every evening when he is walking home from work. He is always in the pub, drinking gallons!" The smug girl finished with a triumphant smile, that is, until she saw tears trickling down her best friend's cheeks. "Bell don't cry!" She exclaimed.
Children are often mean. But just as often, they don't know what they have done. Lara didn't know what she had done to cause tears to cascade down Arabella's face, just as she didn't know how to stop them.
"Bell?" She asked uncertainly. "I'm sorry." As the tears slowed to a halt, Arabella tried to speak. "I think I knew that." She said. "I think I always knew."
Filled with horror at what she had done, Lara hugged her friend and pulled her away from the boys trying to listen in to another part of the playground. They spent the rest of the lunch play enjoying a game of skipping and Arabella silently vowed to have nothing more to do with her father.
This was almost a year ago and, surprisingly, Arabella had kept her word.
But her mother was instant and before she knew it, the little girl was standing in front of her father.
The child's father was a strong man. He had the unfortunate look of a once attractive man gone slightly to seed. Where once there had been muscles, were now fat. He had a smart, short haircut and a bushy beard.
He was standing in the centre of their dining room and swaying slightly.
The maid noticed this and ran forward to guide him to his favourite armchair. It was perhaps fortunate that he allowed her to do so, instead of hitting her away like usual. He seemed focused in his daughter staring innocently up at him. "Bella," he began before the girl interrupted. "Bell" she corrected.
"Bell," he acknowledged. "I have joined a very special political party. Very special..." he trailed off and swung his hands round as if an invisible fly was bothering him.
The maid again hurried forward and whispered something into his ear.
Arabella frowned. Only the maid managed to calm her father down when he was in a rage. She would simply walk into his bedroom, where he was often throwing things around and smashing them and, and come out half and hour later. She would only do this when the child's mother was out and once, Arabella had been so curious that she peeked round the corner of the door to see what them maid was doing. The innocent child thought to herself that she would maybe do the same thing if she needed to.
All she saw was her parents' big double bed before the maid pushed her out of the room.
She never really thought about it but, strangely, it crossed her mind now.
"As I was saying," continued her father as if nothing had happened, "I have joined the Nazi party."
