Chapter 3

Mothers Chores

It can be surprising when going back over things, to realise a particular event in life proved pivotal; even more so if they occurred mundanely.

A Tuesday morning for instance, the quietest day of the week for the chore of shopping, so I’m across town to Sainsburys. My peaceful amble round the aisles is interrupted when I bump into Monica, an old school friend.

She natters on while I do the nodding. She seems to have a glamorous sort of life; she’s shopping now for her trendy house party; to my surprise she invites me.

After I promise to be there, she eventually leaves me to my groceries.

When I get home Jess is in front of the telly in just her knickers and tee-shirt. Over her shoulder, without even taking her eyes off the screen she calls ‘Dan rang to say he will be home tonight for the weekend. Why don’t he read me a bedtime story again?’

Instead of inventing an explanation, I correct her grammar. ‘Why doesn’t, not why don’t.’ I retort, proceeding to the kitchen.

I start to put the shopping away before the frozen things began defrosting.

‘I had one of those wet dreams again mum’ she was right by my side.

‘Did you darling, I say casually with my head in the freezer, was it a nice one?’ She continued, ‘Yes and I’m not sore as before. I rubbed only the inside of my pussy; was that right?’ Turning round to her, I smile maternally saying, ‘That’s good Jess; you’ve got the hang of it now. Just keep it private to yourself and it’ll be OK.’ Her following question underlines her track and quite annoys me. ‘Mum, do you think Dan could read to me in bed this weekend?’ Giving her arse a slap I scold her, ‘I’ll tell you what madam, If you don’t get dressed for dance class now, you’ll be to late to go at all!

While she was upstairs changing I ruminated over my coffee and kicking my shoes off laid back into the sofa. It was clear she was a girl with a growing need but I had to put a stop to the threat of her seeking it from Dan.

He, was mine. I had to nip things in the bud with Jess, ... surely there’s another way to cool the bitch down periodically.

Monica’s Party

Pouring another large brandy I pull out one of my choice R&B albums. It’s unmistakable sound revives the restive mood that prevailed at the time of Monica’s party.

We had been in the same year at Barnet Grammar, but there the similarities ended. Monica was already married and had a posh house. Unlike me, she did not have a child, but a career in local government, oh, and lots of exciting friends.

I had been looking forward to Monica’s party evening but it didn’t turn out good for me. My first surprise was the absence of men, including Monica’s husband. Most of the girls were in the bright new mini dresses, sporting Dusty Springfield hairdos.

I’d felt almost prim in my new cream trouser-suit. Monica had circulated through the kitchen, offering refills of red or white, and asking us to all go into the lounge.

It was all very daring. O K, we all new about vibrators and love balls, but an irreverent and rebellious attitude had been in the air. Many girls there began behaving like whores.