Fandango in the Apse! Read Free Page B

ornament that didn’t have one
underneath it – I detest bloody doilies.  Anyway, the socks and plaits alienated
me from the children at school and I found myself increasingly alone in the
playground.
    After a while, I formulated a plan in an effort to hold onto the few
friends I had left.  I waited for days for an opportune moment to broach the
subject with my mother.  Finally it came. She had just come home from her WI
meeting and was unusually civil to Mrs Williams, the woman she paid to look
after me when she was out in the evenings.  Normally, she was quite abrupt and
I could only assume Mrs Williams was desperate for the money to put up with my
mother’s off-hand treatment.
    I went into the kitchen to make her a cup of tea, and then placed two
ginger biscuits on the side just the way she liked them. I took it to her in
the lounge, making sure I didn’t spill any tea in the saucer, because she hated
that.  Personally, I was under the impression that was the purpose of the thing
– to catch the drips.
    Because she was a stickler for manners, she thanked me, but her lips
remained pursed and she didn’t spare me a glance.  I sat on the sofa, making
sure I stayed still because “fidgeting” was another of her pet hates. Finally,
after a count to ten and just as she picked up her book, I summoned the courage
to ask my question.
    ‘Mum?’
    ‘What?’ This was said with some annoyance as she opened the book at her
marker.  I swallowed my nervousness and forged ahead.
    ‘Could I invite, Amy and Josie, for tea on Friday, please?’  I’d picked
Friday because it was one of her committee nights
    ‘May I invite… not could… don’t they teach you anything at that school?’
    ‘Um… sorry, so… may I invite them?
    ‘No, you may not.’
    ‘Please Mum, I’ll wash up after, I promise, and we won’t make a mess.’
    I waited a moment or two, and when she didn’t answer, I pressed on even
though I recognised my chances now were slim to none.
    ‘Mrs Williams said she didn’t mind looking after all three of us, she
even said she’d make fairy cakes, so, can I?’
    ‘ May I ,’ she ground out.  I was getting flustered now.
    ‘Sorry, may I… please?  I promise they’ll be gone before you come home.’
    My mother slapped her book shut and turned in her chair to face me. Her
eyes bored into mine. ‘I have given you my answer and I do not intend repeating
myself, the subject is closed.’
    ‘But why?  I…’
    ‘Don’t you dare question me, girl, who do you think you are?’
    ‘Please, Mum, just this once.’ I wouldn’t normally have dared this much,
but it was important to me.  However, it wasn’t a good move, which I quickly
realised when she stood up and pointed at the door.
    ‘Get out of my sight – go to your room, now!  How dare you think I would
put up with a group of common brats in my home?’
    I went to my room thinking of my dwindling friends.  They all seemed to
go to each other’s houses and I had hoped that if I invited some to my house,
the offer might be reciprocated.  I had no choice but to accept that wasn’t
going to happen now.
    I have to be careful to give you the correct impression here.  I don’t
want you thinking I was a timid wallflower as a child; in my own way I was a
plucky little madam.  For obvious reasons I kept it well hidden, I was young
after all and in no way a match for my mother’s nastiness, but I gave it a good
go.  Occasionally an opportunity arose and I would seize it.  One of my best –
to this day it still makes me smile – was what I like to call, “The false teeth
episode”.
    It happened the evening my mother was making an important speech to the
Women’s Institute, in her capacity as Chairman of the Church Fund.  In
preparation, she was taking a leisurely bath.  I happened to be passing her
bedroom when I noticed her upper set of false teeth in a glass at the side of
her bed.  I was about eleven at the time, so I really should