GRRRR

I confronted Mother in (my) her flat:
"Take a look at this." I said and thrust the letter
into her impeccably manicured hands.
She squinted at it.
"Put on your glasses for fucksake!" I snapped.
"Do you mind?" She said and placed her Chanel
gold rimmed specs on. She looked like a librarian.
I saw the smallest line crease her forehead.
"What do you want me to say?" She said.
I exploded like a water filled balloon.
"Say! I want you to tell me that it's not true
and that this Tory Cunt is lying." I actually stamped
my feet.
"That Tory cunt is lying." She repeated.
"Really?" I said hopefully.
"It's none of your business! It's part of my
private life." I could see she was shaken though,
it was the way that she made for the drinks
cabinet even though it was only 10.30am.
"Of course it's my business! I thought I knew
who I was! Who I am! Should I meet him?
Do you care if I meet him?" I was hysterically
trying to get a reaction from her.
"Do what you want to do-you always do anyway.
Meet him. He's alright." She conceded.
"Just like that? 'You meet him' like it's a bloody
everyday event! So you are admitting that you knew
this 'Patrick Beamish'?" I squinted at her, but she
turned away and shrugged.
"I'll admit nothing." And she lit a cigarette. Bitch.
As I left I shouted:"You always liked Raine better
then me anyway!"
"Not at all-I just loved her father very much."
I looked at Ma and tears were in her eyes.
"Yeah?" I said angrily:"You had a funny fucking
way of showing it, shagging some politician behind
Dad's back." I sneered showing acres of gum, not
a pretty look at all. Mother laughed.
"Piss off Rebecca go see your MP."
I slammed the door and kicked it on the way out.
Julie the nurse who lived upstairs and in pajamas
opened the window.
"Long time no see Becks! Keep the noise down can't
you?"
I waved and walked down the road like Richard
Ashcroft in 'Bittersweet symphony' taking no
prisoners but not jumping over chav bitches cars.
I want my flat back, my man and my life. But do
I want this stranger, this conservative? We'll see-
oh yes.
Becka MARTIAN