A very suitable quotation for this week, I think.
“She knew that her mother´s querulous, apologetic, half-whining voice would enrage him, that her own sullen presence would help neither of them, but she couldn´t go up to bed. The noise of what would happen beneath her room would be more terrifying than to be part of it. And now the room was full of him, his blundering body, the stink of him. Hearing his bellow of outrage, his ranting, she felt a sudden spurt of fury, and with it came courage. She heard herself saying, ´It isn´t Mother´s fault. The chair was wrapped up when the man left it. She couldn´t see it was the wrong colour. They´ll have to change it.´
And then he turned on her. She couldn´t recall the words. Perhaps at the time there had been no words, or she hadn´t heard them. There was only the crack of the smashed bottle, like a pistol shot, the stink of whisky, a moment of searing pain which passed almost as soon as she felt it and the warm blood flowing from her cheek, dripping onto the seat of the chair, her mother´s anguished cry. ´Oh God, look what you´ve done. The blood! They´ll never take it back now. They´ll never change it.´”
If you recognize the quotation, or if you think you are able to guess who wrote it, please post a comment. Just leave a hint, do not spoil the fun by giving too much away. The book will be reviewed on Friday.