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"Yes, you came to me to try to get me to dislike Tony. You tried to make me jealous. That's what you were doing," she concluded, her eyes lighting up. "You thought that by making up these stories about his touching you . ."

"He did, Momma! Those weren't stories!!"

"He did, but not the way you wanted me to think he did. And when all that didn't work, you enticed him into your bedroom and when he resisted, you spit the truth about my age at him, trying to drive a wedge between him and me!" I saw she would never forgive me that. She would never believe that Tony had already known.

"Finally, because he is only a man, he succumbed, and now, look at what you've done, what you've accomplished. Well, I hope you're proud of yourself, little princess!" she hissed. Never had she looked as ugly to me.

"Momma, none of this is true. You can't seriously believe it."

"And after I tried so hard to bring you up right, to understand how women and men should be with each other, how a woman has to hold on to her virtue to win the respect and admiration of men. I TOLD YOU," she screamed, "GOOD GIRLS DON'T GO ALL THE WAY!"

Her scream vibrated through me, shattering whatever feelings of love and respect for her remained. They broke, splintered and disintegrated like a plate of bone-thin china, the parts falling through my memory-- fragments of loving

conversations between us, slices of images, pictures of happier times, the broken sounds of tinkling bells and music from precious music boxes, unfinished laughter, half smiles, little kisses on my cheeks and forehead, our hands parting.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I wasn't the jealous one; she was. I wasn't the one who had been promiscuous; she was. I wasn't the one who lied and betrayed. I wasn't selfish and blind to anything that didn't please me; she was. And now, to keep her little world the way she wanted it, she was painting me as evil. I was to be the guilty person, even though I was the one who had been violated.

"YOU LIAR!" I screamed back at her. "You hypocrite, sitting there and condemning me for being promiscuous and going all the way. I know the truth about you. I overheard Grandma Jana talking to you just before you married Tony and I know Daddy isn't my real father, that you slept with another man and got pregnant and married Daddy without telling him the truth so he would think I was his child. I knew, but I kept it a secret buried in my heart of hearts, even though it burned and hurt."

"Why that's . . ." She sat back, a dazed look on her face.

"That's true," I said. "All true. But your mother helped you find a husband, a man who would love and respect you."

"This is ridiculous," she said emerging from her daze and looking about as if we had witnesses to convince. "What sort of story do you want to spread now? Is this another way to try to get Tony away from me?"

"STOP IT! STOP LYING!"

"How dare you shout at me like this! I'm your mother."

"No, you're not," I said, shaking my head and backing away from her. "No, you're not. I have no mother and I have no father." I allowed myself to be just as ugly with my words as she had been with hers. "You thought you could have it all, didn't you? Only the finest!" I spat out. "A handsome young husband, a luxurious estate, a designer wardrobe and a

SPECIALLY SELECTED MISTRESS FOR YOUR OWN HUSBAND!" I lowered my voice to a purr the way Momma had done on countless occasions. "Tell me, Momma, when did you first get the idea? On your honeymoon? When you returned to Farthy?" My questions became frenzied and I didn't allow Momma to answer as she had done with me so many times. "When did you realize that your beauty wouldn't last forever and would start FADING!" I laughed in her face. "That's right, fading! With each passing day you grow older and older, Momma. But you've always known tha

t, deep in your heart of hearts. I CAN'T STAND YOU ANYMORE! You don't care about anything but yourself and your precious face. Well let me tell you something, Jillian Tatterton, the game is OVER! You're going to be a grandmother! Does that make you feel young? No matter how young you look, you'll never escape the fact that you're a GRANDMOTHER and the only person you have to blame is YOURSELF!" I turned and ran from her suite, ran from her lies and hypocritical eyes, ran from a woman I no longer recognized or loved. I slammed the door of my room behind me, but I didn't cry. I wouldn't cry again in this evil place. I hated this place, hated what happened here, hated what it had turned me into. All I knew was I had to get away, get away from its sins, lies and false smiles.

I threw open my closet door and grabbed a suitcase. Without planting what I would take, I grabbed something here, something there, throwing the gal nients into the suitcase roughly. I didn't care about my beautiful clothes or my precious jewelry; I didn't care about pictures or mementos. I just wanted to get away as quickly as I could.

I closed my suitcase and started out, but I paused at the door and turned as if someone had called out to me. Angel stared at me across the room. She looked as sad and as lost as I did, How could I leave her behind? I scooped her into my arms and charged out of my suite with my suitcase swinging in my hand. My mother hadn't come after me and she wasn't in the corridor. I hurried to the stairway.

It was only when I reached the bottom of the staircase that I stopped to question what I was doing, where I was going. I couldn't just walk out of Farthy. I was miles and miles from anywhere.

Grandma Jana, I thought. I would go to her. She would understand. She knew who and what Momma really was.

I would tell her all that had happened. She would be sympathetic. I had to go south and make my way to her home, but that took money. I looked in my pocketbook for my wallet and found I had barely twenty dollars, not enough to finance a trip to Texas. I recalled where Tony kept some money in his office and went in to get it. Why not? I thought. If anyone should pay, it should be Tony.

There was nearly two hundred dollars in a desk drawer. Hardly a fortune, but enough to get me on the road. I stuffed the money into my purse, straightened up and gazed into a mirror. I brushed back my hair, wiped my cheeks with a handkerchief, and took a deep breath. I didn't want to look as desperate as I felt. I intended to go out and casually ask Miles to drive me into Boston. If he thought something was wrong, he might go back into the house to ask my mother first.

I left the office, closing the door quietly behind me. The house was quiet. I gazed up the stairway at the second floor, and saw no one. My mother probably had gone right back to getting ready for her party. After all, nothing came before her looks and she had her wealthy friends coming, people she had to impress. Curtis emerged from the music room and paused to look my way, an expression of curiosity on his face because he saw me standing with a suitcase. I smiled, trying to make everything look casual, and he nodded and went on to the kitchen.

Then I stepped out the front door. The bright sunlight made me squint, so I shaded my eyes with my hand. It was very warm and there were big, high clouds scattered across the deep blue sky. A slight, soft breeze caressed my face. The world welcomed me, encouraged me to come out of the dark, enchanted kingdom called Farthinggale. When I arrived here I thought it was like a storybook. Now I knew the truth: that it was a nightmare come to life!

Luckily for me, Miles was in front polishing the car. I didn't have to go looking for him and attract the attention of the grounds people. He looked up sharply when I started toward him.

"I'm not early," I said and smiled. I looked at my watch and then held it toward him for him to see the time.

"Huh?" He put his polishing rag down and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I'm supposed to take you somewhere this afternoon?"

"To the train station, Miles. Don't tell me my mother forgot to tell you this morning."