The wine and cigarettes leitmotif running through this gut-wrenching account of an evilly- indulgent father is welcome comfort even for abstainers.
The father’s belief in his right to steal/break/devour his daughters’ innocence is beyond belief. Yet he did not take their souls – and this is the `gold’ threading love, hope, trust, courage throughout this book – all the good and shining human things. A thread to which this reader held onto whilst turning the pages describing one horror after another.
The horrors never lose their power, one is never immune to the sickening shock. During a recent BBC Radio 4 interview, one of the sisters remarked they were all concerned the explicit detail of the sexual abuse by their monster father would invite (and excite) paedophiles – a concern I experienced whilst writing a novel about the guilt of an abused child.
Though my account was no more than a page, it was the hardest part of the book to write and I put it off until the end, leaving a blank page in my manuscript until I could face it. Imagining was bad enough, the reality of the girls’ repeated suffering is unimaginable. However, my writing experience was a breeze compared to the storm-dark tempest-strength victimisation described in Click Click.
The power of this factual account is its ultimately heartening honesty told plainly and simply, the truth which every abused child is too scared, too scared to tell, the terrible but necessary truth.