“Mom! Mom! Don’t forget! My school trip money for Friday.”
“I know, love, “ sighed Patricia as she attempted to literally force feed her two year old son, Toby. By foul means or fair, either aeroplane noises or just waiting until the wee lips opened to complain. They were tightly shut now, most of the blueberry flavoured porridge having found its way around Toby’s face, clothes, clinging to his hair and splattered on the tiled floor. Patricia herself had not escaped, dots of oats speckled her newly pressed shirt.
“Now, c’mon, baby boy, for Mummy.” The mouth remained mutinously closed. Just a vigorous shaking of the head showed his determination to thwart his mother.
Resignedly, Patricia set the bowl on the table and retrieved another from the cupboard as her seven year old daughter April slouched into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong, pigeon?” Patricia hugged her and was dismayed to see big tears rolling down her cheeks.
“My goodness, it couldn’t be all that bad, surely. What is it?”
“Everybody in my class are getting new trainers for the visit to the star place and mine are really old,” sobbed the little girl.
The school trip this term was to the Armagh Planetarium, the star place!
“No, they are not and I am sure not everyone will be changing their shoes, love.”
But April was crestfallen and her usual childish banter on the short journey to school was non-existent. Patricia knew then that another out of town bus journey was imminent and her spirits fell. Payment for the trip and new trainers loomed on the horizon not to mention next month’s rent.
As she approached the school gates she could feel the animosity of the waiting mothers, subtly at first, then intensifying as they became aware of her arrival. Patricia knew she was the victim of local gossip and had been for some time now, gave the bored young mothers and the bitter old grannies something to talk about. Two illegitimate children to different fathers, still unmarried. Oh, the shame! But she wasn’t ashamed. She loved her children, maternal to the core, she was. Her only sin had been falling in love with a couple of immature men. Once when she was merely seventeen and again at the ripe old age of twenty two. Innocent and naïve, she fell pregnant both times and both times the loving partner couldn’t or wouldn’t commit. Living now on benefits, cast aside by Christian opinionated parents, Patricia struggled to raise her family the only way she knew how but she was happy, her children saw to that.
Head held high she ran the gauntlet of disapproving stares and whispered comments, ensured her daughter was safely with her teacher and wheeled Toby out of the school playgrounds. She had an important phone call to make, one she thankfully didn’t make very often but one that would shock her tormentors to the core. If they only knew!
The following Friday morning, after delivering April to her teacher and depositing Toby with her only true friend, Brenda, Patricia stood at the town bus stop. Looking very smart and pretty she was, ready for a some window shopping maybe. No, that was not her destination, she was heading a little further afield. Actually as far away from her hometown as the bus would take her. She made sure of that on her first assignment. Standing straight and tall, the belted cream trench coat couldn’t detract from her slim figure, belying the birth of two children. She shifted uncomfortably in the unfamiliar clothes. Sparkling blue eyes peeped from beneath a shelf of blond fringe, golden tresses piled high on her head in a restrictive bun. Fresh complexioned, with the slightest hint of eye shadow and pale lipstick, Patricia turned heads and evoked wolf whistles from the builders across the road. If they only knew, she thought. But needs must and my kids are my priority.
She boarded her bus on arrival and chose a seat as far away from fellow travellers as she could manage. She needed to prepare for the coming ordeal, seal off her emotions and concentrate solely on the welfare of the children. It was a long journey, but to Patricia not long enough. This was a job, she should be thankful, really, she would do anything for her family. This thought carried her off the bus, occupied her mind on the taxi journey, all expenses paid, and pushed her forward to ring the bell of No. 16 Cypress Avenue.
“You called,” she purred seductively as the middle-aged, overweight businessman opened the shiny black expensive door.
Patricia slowly unbuttoned her coat as she stepped into the ornately decorated hallway, revealing her lush figure encased in a sexy, black and red lacy basque, suspenders, sheer black stockings and patent stillettos. Releasing her long blond hair from its restraints, she provocatively shook her head, silkily murmuring, “Where do you want me?”
Her work day had begun!
Phyllis McKenna 