allowed her to do the housework as long as she threw nothing away, changed nothing and renewed nothing. And in her contrary way, her mother forced her nightly, to sit through awful DIY programmes; all the time her mother’s voice wittering on over the presenter’s voice, about the waste of money, mess and smell.
‘So what did she say today?’ Her mother screeched at her as she calculated her way over the rubbish to the kitchen. In the kitchen she saw all her good work of the previous evening had been, as usual, a waste. The draining board was now covered with various jam jars, ashtrays and yoghurt pots. Ashtrays?
‘You’ve been smoking again?’ Silence. ‘Well?’ she asked.
‘What of it! I’ll do what I want.’
‘Dr. Short said you mustn’t smoke and wear a patch at the same time. It’s dangerous.’
‘Oh shut up. It’s none of your business what I do!’ She stepped back as her mother approached her, waiting for the contact of hand on face, but it didn’t come. Her mother turned and slumped into a kitchen chair, picked up her packet of cigarettes and lit one. She didn’t take her eyes off Sarah. After lighting the cigarette, she took a long drag on it and then blew smoke deliberately in her direction.
‘Tell me,’ she whined flicking ash on the floor, ‘Tell me.’
‘The same as last week. I told her what happened during the week, and she listened, she never says anything.’ Sarah filled the kettle and then started to inspect the mugs.
‘She must say something. You can’t talk about yourself for an hour, what would you have to say? She can’t sit and say nothing for an hour. What do you pay her for?’
Sarah sighed trying to ignore the sarcasm directed at her. Here we go.
‘Sometimes there are silences. She says I’m still not in touch with my feelings properly. I’m still repressing too much… um … anger.’ She turned to look at her mother adding quickly, ‘D’you want a cup of tea?’
‘I knew it.’ She watched as her mother smirked. ‘What else did she say? What did you say? And what’ve you got to be angry about. I’m the one should be angry. Being left with you. Having to bring you up all on my own. I should be the one seeing her. Not you. There’s nothing wrong with you. What was it Dr. Short called it? Nervous tension. What’s nervous tension? It’s all a waste of my money, you going to see her.’
Listening to her mother, Sarah found two cups, not too stained, and poured boiling water into the teapot, she then tipped it out, added the tea leaves and poured in more water.
‘D’you want a cup or not?’ She repeated. She wanted to add, it’s not your money, its mine, but decided the price would be too high.
‘Of course I do. Now tell me what else. You’re hiding something. I can tell. Now tell me.’ The whinge had changed to a threat and she started to rise from her chair.
‘Nothing happened,’ Sarah replied quickly. ‘I didn’t say anything.’ She moved towards the fridge and opened the door, standing behind it, out of her mother’s way. She gripped her lip hard and fast between her teeth.
‘Come on, I know there’s something else.’ Her mother sat back down, and took another drag on her cigarette.
She must think of something, anything. She needed to distract her mother before she told her. She picked up the milk jug and poured milk into the cups. She waited. Waited for the shrill reprimand.
‘Tip that out! And rinse the cup.’ Her mother’s voice high.
Busying herself tipping out the milk and rinsing the cup, she then poured the tea into the cup before adding milk. Placing the cup on a saucer, she walked to the table and put it in front of her mother
‘How many times do I have to tell you? You stupid bitch!’ Her mother stubbed her cigarette into Sarah’s arm so quickly she didn’t have time to dodge it. Then she squished it into the plate of food in front of her. Picking the packet up off the table her mother took out another,
‘So what did she say today?’ Her mother screeched at her as she calculated her way over the rubbish to the kitchen. In the kitchen she saw all her good work of the previous evening had been, as usual, a waste. The draining board was now covered with various jam jars, ashtrays and yoghurt pots. Ashtrays?
‘You’ve been smoking again?’ Silence. ‘Well?’ she asked.
‘What of it! I’ll do what I want.’
‘Dr. Short said you mustn’t smoke and wear a patch at the same time. It’s dangerous.’
‘Oh shut up. It’s none of your business what I do!’ She stepped back as her mother approached her, waiting for the contact of hand on face, but it didn’t come. Her mother turned and slumped into a kitchen chair, picked up her packet of cigarettes and lit one. She didn’t take her eyes off Sarah. After lighting the cigarette, she took a long drag on it and then blew smoke deliberately in her direction.
‘Tell me,’ she whined flicking ash on the floor, ‘Tell me.’
‘The same as last week. I told her what happened during the week, and she listened, she never says anything.’ Sarah filled the kettle and then started to inspect the mugs.
‘She must say something. You can’t talk about yourself for an hour, what would you have to say? She can’t sit and say nothing for an hour. What do you pay her for?’
Sarah sighed trying to ignore the sarcasm directed at her. Here we go.
‘Sometimes there are silences. She says I’m still not in touch with my feelings properly. I’m still repressing too much… um … anger.’ She turned to look at her mother adding quickly, ‘D’you want a cup of tea?’
‘I knew it.’ She watched as her mother smirked. ‘What else did she say? What did you say? And what’ve you got to be angry about. I’m the one should be angry. Being left with you. Having to bring you up all on my own. I should be the one seeing her. Not you. There’s nothing wrong with you. What was it Dr. Short called it? Nervous tension. What’s nervous tension? It’s all a waste of my money, you going to see her.’
Listening to her mother, Sarah found two cups, not too stained, and poured boiling water into the teapot, she then tipped it out, added the tea leaves and poured in more water.
‘D’you want a cup or not?’ She repeated. She wanted to add, it’s not your money, its mine, but decided the price would be too high.
‘Of course I do. Now tell me what else. You’re hiding something. I can tell. Now tell me.’ The whinge had changed to a threat and she started to rise from her chair.
‘Nothing happened,’ Sarah replied quickly. ‘I didn’t say anything.’ She moved towards the fridge and opened the door, standing behind it, out of her mother’s way. She gripped her lip hard and fast between her teeth.
‘Come on, I know there’s something else.’ Her mother sat back down, and took another drag on her cigarette.
She must think of something, anything. She needed to distract her mother before she told her. She picked up the milk jug and poured milk into the cups. She waited. Waited for the shrill reprimand.
‘Tip that out! And rinse the cup.’ Her mother’s voice high.
Busying herself tipping out the milk and rinsing the cup, she then poured the tea into the cup before adding milk. Placing the cup on a saucer, she walked to the table and put it in front of her mother
‘How many times do I have to tell you? You stupid bitch!’ Her mother stubbed her cigarette into Sarah’s arm so quickly she didn’t have time to dodge it. Then she squished it into the plate of food in front of her. Picking the packet up off the table her mother took out another,
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