NOT ASK AGAIN.A Poem by Terry CollettA GIRL AND HER MOTHER IN 1950S LONDON.
Lydia's mother
sliced the bread thinly and buttered sparingly and handed Lydia two limp slices and said get that inside you can't have you going everywhere with your stomach rumbling people'd think you've not been fed Lydia took the two slices and a mug of stewed tea but she hadn't been fed that was why she went and got the rolls and bread but she said nothing just nodded her head and followed her mother into the living room and sat at the table her big sister had gone to bed her father was sleeping off the beer Lydia nibbled like a mouse a thin long haired girl of a mouse can I go up West? she asked up West? her mother repeated as if her daughter had sworn at her up West? she said again turning the words around in her head to see how they fitted in best can I? her daughter asked again anxiously you can in the sense that it's possible but if you mean may as a permissibility then no her mother said what? Lydia said uncertain where she was in her request your gran always said that the difference between can and may is one of possibility over permissibility said Lydia's mother may I go? Lydia asked softly no you may not her mother said why not? her daughter asked because I said so her mother replied why do want to go there? her mother asked Benedict said he was going there and that he'd take me Lydia replied oh him her mother said she sat and took a bite from her sandwich picturing the boy from upstairs in the flats with his hazel eyes and big smile and self assurance about him why does he want to go up West? she asked he likes adventures Lydia said adventures? her mother said repeating the word as if it were unknown to her who does he think he is Biggles or someone like that? Lydia sat nibbling frowning holding the bread in her thin hands he's never mentioned Biggles Lydia said don't talk with your mouth full her mother scolded Lydia swallowed the bread he's not said nothing about no Biggles Lydia said well you can't go her mother said firmly looking at her daughter's thin frame and lank long hair do you mean I mayn't? Lydia uttered gently I said what I mean her mother said and don't get mouthy like your big sister or you'll feel my hand across your backside Lydia nibbled and looked away a train steamed crossed the railway bridge leaving grey white smoke behind it lingering there unsettling the air her mother muttered words but Lydia didn't listen she watched clouds cross the sky darkly carrying a storm or rain she liked her backside as it was she didn't want no pain she'd not ask again. © 2013 Terry Collett |
Stats
78 Views
Added on November 7, 2013 Last Updated on November 7, 2013 AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more.. |

Flag Writing