BAD PENNY

So Mother is back and here ends my freedom until
she sees fit to go again! One thing you should know
about my Mum, she's not nice. No really, she makes
Joan Crawford look like Nigella Lawson! When we were
children, Sister-thing and myself would often be left to
our own diversions whilst Mother went out to look for men.
She said that she was far too young to be tied down with
a couple of snot-nosed brats. This was after Dad had died,
so she must have been about 28/29, quite young.I
must have been about 7 or 8 and sister thing, 9 or 10.
Sorry I can't pin it down, but it was a long time
ago.
"Look at this fucking flat!" She stormed as she blew
smoke from her nose that the dragon that she was.
"It's ok, only pick-up stuff!"
"Then pick it up! It's my flat after all!"
This was true, I don't ever think of it as her's though,
I live in it so it's mine. So I tidied, with Mother
behind you-you can do anything. This is because it
is preferable to do what she wants then for her to actually
talk to you. Rant at you I should say.
"What's going on with the hair? You look like a
freaking dyke!" (Mother spends far too much time in
New York).
The phone rang, before I could reach it the answerphone,
cut in and Sister-thing made a sharp mistake:
"Becka! It's Raine, a little bird told me that Mother
is back in town!"
Before she could say anything else Mother had snatched
the phone up:"Yes I am Lorraine! When am I going to
see my fucking Grandson?" I faintly heard poor Raine
squeak 'shit!' But at least the heat was off of me for
a few moments.
"Anything to drink in this disgusting hovel?"
"Ah, tea?"
"Don't be so soft! Scotch." Already I could feel my
self reverting into a snivelly little kid.
So she drunk my booze and raved at me with the zeal
of a lunatic.
"I heard that Jeffrey left you? What a shame, but
a man like that will always go for the best he can!"
This was from my own Mother, man! But she was never
on my side, or Sister-thing's come to that. She used
and manipulated us to her own effect.
"The girl he's gone for is a model-type air-head.
She might look better but she doesn't think better
then me." I was already 15 and sulking.
"Mmm, well the proof of the cake is in the eating
isn't it?"
I told her about my fab new job, omitting details
about Angela Grade's 'special' relationship with me.
"Well that's something I suppose." She grumpily
conceded:"But": there always was a 'but' with Mum
"Lorraine is still stuck in that no-hope office job,
what a disappointment!"
I glared at her, after all, she had made us what we
were. It was a joy to go to work today to escape
from her.
When I returned home I practically needed a gas-mask
to enter the flat because of the haze of fag smoke.
"Christ Ma! Can't you open a window?"
"Don't you window me! I found this on the mat this
morning, what is going on Rebecca?"
Of all the times to strike, Postie had to make a return
when Mother was here. I felt quite ill.
Postie had posted a photograph of myself, sitting
on my Vespa looking grim and moody. It was the words
written in lipstick that did it though.
BECKA MARTIN IS A BIG DYKE-WHORE
"Can you explain to me what is going on?"
"Ah-no."
Becka