Crystal’s favourite time of the day was her tea parties with Rodney and Patrick. Crystal would get the little plastic cups out. The tea was imaginary and they’d all sip the tea with their pinky fingers up in the air. Rodney was happy to play along, it didn’t bother him, it was only an hour of his day - and he got to go upstairs and out of the basement for a time. The basement was damp and dark. Patrick hated the tea parties. Patrick was a stubborn sort that did everything through gritted teeth. But he held on, not wanting to upset a little girl like Crystal, nor upset himself too much. The tea parties weren’t going to last forever. Crystal might get bored of Patrick and ask somebody else to do it or she’d simply outgrow them, like all good girls… Well, the tea parties did come to an end on that wet Wednesday evening, for Patrick. They were on their crossed legs and sat around the miniature tables with their miniature cups in their hands, pretending to sip from the empty plastic. ...
MOTHER OF THE YEAR When Rachel Gregory was born, her mother felt herself drowning in hatred towards the baby. The father had just done a runner, upped and left like the coward Iris Gregory knew him to be. Iris would look at Rachel and see the dad, then the hatred would fill her up like a newly pulled pint and she’d suffocate right up to her throat. The dad was Brian. She didn’t know where he went or why he went. Well, the why was obvious. Iris called herself headstrong (what she meant was high-strung). Iris was bitter. Iris felt anger towards everything and everyone. And Brian couldn’t hack it anymore. Iris went around to Brian’s mum the week he left, held the baby in her arms, and looked her ex-mother-in-law straight in the face: ‘Look what your waster son has left me with,’ Iris said with spit coming out her lips. He joined the French Foreign Legion. Apparently. That’s what she told people anyway. She didn’t know what that meant wh...
The father stood at the front of the family photo with his chest out and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side, and he had his arm around her, tightly gripping her waist. The camera was an automatic one that the father had set before quickly running to get in the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this mocked up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes. The father put the kids to bed and then put his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives re-runs. Her favourite. The father could hear Gabi laying into her husband on the TV. It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything he said he would. A real whizz aro...