My adopted mother Zeks had two husbands Fiddle one she did not like and the other she loved more and more. One had olive eyes and the other had honeysuckle eyes he called Abdul but they were my dad’s. Fiddle was always bored but Abdul was the one she did for. She would always rescue him from his bad debts because he was and is a gaming man. Fiddle has sadly passed away and Abdul is the one who is alive and learning to draw and paint.
It was in the late 1960 when we had an argument about whom had a boy friend I said I did not want one as had nothing on offer. There was mother laughing and then he went mad.
“The door got broken when dad had a madness when he in a rage.”
“He broke the door?” said the landlord.
“Mummy still laughing at him.” I told the landlord and it meant something sinister because the landlord said it would have meant out if there had not been the children.
That is when I answered his other question. “Then he carried her over to the other room and gave her one.”
“He that strong?” asked the landlord.
“I think it was Abdul otherwise it would have been blue murder.”
Mother gave a satisfied sigh it was Abdul.
I was a bit embarrassed because the landlord looked very cross he fixed the door and then left.
When mother came back from him she did a turn and then asked what and who had fixed the door?
“Landlord.” I was watching cartoons it was a massive hit.
“Why did you not call me?”
“The landlord said not to disturb you when you asleep.” I had lied before was getting quite convincing.
Mother tried not to pull my ears but she could not contain herself.
“This is serious we might be evicted.”
“Oh good we might go to somewhere different.” I said.
“You are not a child you a monster.”
“What me not me.”
“Grandma said it is not nice.”
“What cartoons don’t I deserve to live too?”
“What okay but don’t break the door down it brings in the landlord and he is very upset and he does have rights.”
“You go and pay him off.”
“Oh I will.” So he ran off and did not return for a fortnight.
You see the man called the Fiddle had the money and means for more money the romantic had not much but his gambling addiction and a lot of charms. Mother was so involved in. I meant no harm to the children well he never knew we existed that is why he meant no harm.
“You see I have heard of men sharing a room but not a wife?”
“Well it is easy because both of them were not there at the same time if they were one of them had to leave. It would have looked odd.”
“Because of the landlord he said one husband at a time.”
“So mummy sent the Fiddle packing and said not to come back and he went to the school teacher and her husband and he got on well had a lovely time. But by then Abdul had got arrested so mummy said she sorry and Fiddle had to come home.”
Fiddle said why call him when he having a time of his life and what did it matter about children starving and rent not being paid was he an aid or something.
“You forget yourself.” Said mother and he shut up.
“Because he on the run and he kept on running for a long time until he discovered he pardoned and well then he’ll let loose.”
“He had been pardoned?”
“Well yes but he did not know that did he?”
“He thought he made his escape which his brother had organised being a police official and kept mum he on his release for trying to murder a Greek fellas in a fight which Fiddle thought might make him highly regarded and popular but never did...”
“No most definitely Fiddle not popular.”
“He was also so much in his own world he depressed and everything.”
“His mental state was bad.”
“Yes him sick.”
“His family did not want him.”
“He demanded constant tea.”
“Yes because he could not handle his own teapot.”
“He nearly drowned in tea.”
“Soaked to the skin.”
“He highly unusual.”
“So there is not much anyone can do about such a joke is there?”
“It is a bit cruel?”
“So what happens now?”
“Who knows the man with the olive eyes called Abdul wants his money to game it away and mum will give it to him all the same.”
“What has really happened?”
“Told the kids about the will.”
“That will make it not his?”
“I hope so.” But that is nearer this time then the 1960’s and they did say to stick to the time line by God there is forty fifty years difference but I am older and time is irrelevant. Today is tossed into yesterday like a barbecued pita. I am making a shape I am delving into this as if taking what I need if there is more fluff then I need I am trying and tell a long winded story. If there is a story a bone I make it right till the end saying this and the other.
Mr Abdul I have known all my life. He became my dad he became my dad because my dad was a highly important man and he did not could not acknowledge what he had done to a minor. I was not a child who was doing her homework and such stuff like a normal child so he did not bother. He would wave me away as if a serving girl and I became that to please him.
All said they were the same but I kept on thinking they were not the same being a child meant nobody told me anything about them. Who were these two odd men and why was one competent and the other incompetent? One liked to do things and liked history and reading the other disliked to do anything but nod over a newspaper.
They got on mum and they did their business but what went wrong was when one of them was at the laundrette and the phone was in a queue and then this man said he was asking for Maria and then my arm went into the drier because he sounded the same as my dad.
I did not know what it meant and he did not speak to me he did not recognise me and I felt such a fool because he did not want to know me he had his friends there. He appeared younger than my dad at home?
“Just got out of jail.” He told the queuing men, “and there is no chance I would leave Maria to you guys.”
They said something underneath their breaths and then they said things words and the worst words they said to be when they were looking in my direction afterwards there was a fight. I took my possessions and scrambled out of there did not want to lose my laundry and linen being so expensive and all that. I went like there was nothing there but this litter and they were all literary geniuses when it came to wrong words and they did swear too.
“How can you remember such things?”
“I am old now and old people can.”
“What are the memories to do with aging?”
“If I knew that creep I would speak out sounder.”
“I am of sound mind and my worst enemy is the man who brought me up.”
“Your dad dead?”
“My dead were murdered.”
“I thought he had committed suicide but he was shot twice in the head and heart.”
“That makes it four times?”
“No once in the head and once in the heart... You don’t know anything about anything.”
“Look there it is who your dad was?”
“He was a wise doctor who did wise deeds and was not wise in privacy.”
“You mean he drunk?”
“Yes because of all the pain and suffering he saw he drunk to forget to make a fog to face another day as he did so many amputations and all that.”
“Why he could have committed suicide?”
“Not when he then President.”
“Of a company?”
“No silly of Northern Cyprus.”
“Fuck off no not him he was a dullard.”
“No he was not a dullard he ruled wisely for fifty years.”
“I guess he was a better politician than my daddy.”
“Yes he had to be because daddy got shot dead in his office and the verdict said he committed suicide when he did not have not done not.”
“Because of that he not dead and properly buried.”!
“He not your daddy really?”
“He my bloody daddy.”
“Because of what?”
“Because he had intimacies with mum and then she thought he would marry her who got a mistake in her card and she had to be sent to Australia to benefit from the climate change.”
“The climate change bored her to death.”
“Well that is not easy having to adjust?”
“She never did.”
Mother Zeks did not look like someone would behave in such a manner towards her but two men have molested themselves over her and in their own way they did bad things to be with her. She had a third but he just an innocent naive man who thought he the only husband. The other two knew about each other and they dined and wined on the deed.
To think I had no real idea about this because it just did not make sense because when someone speaks one likes to think they are telling the truth and the truth to me was that she never told such fibs to anyone and it would have been against the law if she had.
Because the teacher said so she said it was morally binding to be married to one man at a one time. But the Muslims believe that a man can have four wives and this mother must have been confused about because of the equality law. So everything being equal she shoved it aside what mattered to her was that one man looked after her the other spent with her the money and the third phoned her asking for more land deals and more money. That was a very good deal as far as I was concerned I was cornered there is too many husbands not at all there are too few.
Look when one is having a gossip the other party does not interrupt as I am being good to all of you by exposing this little scandal and it is the best scandal ever because I have my own grievances and reasons because of the charges she brought against me did not eventually try to rob and swindle me and bled me dry. So I am very cross and do what I can to expose her with the little things which I found out about her.
When I was a lot younger in fact a girl a girl who thought herself indispensable to the world and worthy of her hire a girl.
Fiddle said, “You will never make it.”
Abdul sadly agreed.
“Not in the real world you don’t show enough cleverness.”
“What does it mean?”
“Mum does his cravat.”
“He needs cufflinks too my husband.”
“You mean he gets cufflinks too?”
“Well I hope he hangs himself with them.”
Fiddle did not like cufflinks he liked ties and this was the only differences of opinion they had? Of course not Abdul liked to cook and sometimes gourmet dinners came around the place making the senses smile.
A woman in the making marked out for great things. No not for marriage I had a career to look ahead to wonderful deeds would I do and make and things would bring me happiness.
I would lead the world by my own exemplary behaviour. But you see that never happens to anyone there is nobody watching me except a psychopath and that will only eventually end in my death. He was outside again he was outside scratching at my door.
There was this fiendish delight and fright in me is he coming is he coming should I be scared? No he is not here probably because there is nothing to fear but the rain and the sleet and the wind crashing everything in the world making the trams stand still and hell let loose. This is what climate change means and this is why we have to doodle all the time in the world.
“What ails you?”
“That is it there is too much to say.”
I had just began to read the Republic by Plato and he had written something about a cave and how out of the shadows comes the reality of not seeing the true meaning of the things which we take for granted. Later Plato wrote as our eyes become accustomed to the interior of the cave some images we do see but what they appeared at first was totally at odds with the reality.
What is real and what is not real is the past real? When one reaches my age the past is as real as if it happened yesterday. Believe me that is why this novel is impossible to read because the past is as real as today and versa-versa.
So forgive me if the past is more real sometimes does it appear true to you that are what you as the reader must make your mind up about. Does it ring true? If there is a truth behind the things which I have written then it must appeal to some of you out there?
Some would make statements to me about their lives and give excuses when they did behave badly. The only person who appeared justified is mother she did not make any excuses said I should kiss her hand and her feet for bringing me up this far. I am sorry for being so frank but in this novel we have done away with conventional behaviour we have done away with the things which matter the veneer the deeds of the civil tongues and the goodness gracious me time for a cuppa or the smoke or the drink.
“Chin is chin up.”
“I prefer whiskey and prefer it neat.” He said a bit sadly.
“Your handwriting is never neat why do you prefer neat whiskey?” Fiddle was not joking he thought he was that neat and tidy and he did not know the best joke someone said there was a joke if only we could find it but I did not know about the joke what was the joke and then it hit me it hurt when Fiddle died and laid sober as a judge and that is when it rained and rained and poured and B said things which were a disaster why did B said the words and why did she feel it more than we did?
“I do understand.”
“I don’t understand?”
“What were we thinking?”
“When did it happen?”
“Did it bring happiness?”
“My hand is always shaking when I want to do my best handwriting.”
Shoes under the shoes dust.
“Muddy boots long muddy boots.”
“Abdul has the same kind of muddy boots as well in fact Fiddle did not like mud he always had them clean and with that he did it all the time he did not only think mud bad but took care when the shoes were muddy that mother cleaned the whole thing.”
“Abdul did it for sis?”
“I am innocent until proven guilty.”
“No I think it might have been Fiddle who did it for her?”
“Why because of them shoes the shoes were clean.”
“See there is nothing the matter with your damn hands.”
“Laziness bad temper add to this good looks no wonder you spoilt, goodness what badness.”
“There is always badness is there not?” I said to the teacher.
“How that can write such a neat beautiful hand and you without a clue as to formations of the alphabet.”
“What I am saying is I think Abdul raped my little sister!”
“Fiddlesticks.” Said the teacher.
“Can’t do joined up handwriting and at your age too.”
“At ten I am too young.”
“At four she was a babe.” I said out loud but she did not understand thought I was lying had told too many tall tales.
“My sister was raped did it get reported did it get written down did it get even noticed? She spent two weeks in hospital when she came out she was difficult and different thought everything was about money. What had happened to my sister the one who was a beautiful child?”!
“Money to pass money to access money to go through let me see your money.”
“Why are you saying them things?”
“You know why?”
“More money because you have forgotten.”
“I don’t have any.”
“I will sign you IOU.”
“How much do I owe now?”
“Ouch wrote it wrong.”
“Look why not just let me pass?”
“Nope it is wrong without money you can’t pass.”
“She will not let you go and do something else.”
“I wanted to watch television.”
“Do something else.”
B has a smile on her face and I leave the room.
It is like the transatlantic things we take for granted the guttural of drunken speaking and why does this happens? I know I am not speaking sense and what it is to be known in the century which is the 21st but look some people have mistaken their hours and days because they had no idea what their schedules were and why and did away with their carefully built timescales and then disasters happened. Because most of us are now on a plane going to this meeting and that and we need a pick me up.
So this is a novel which appeals to some and might offend others I hope nobody will go out not shocked or shaken. There is something in me whom had to be let loose in the world and this is how I have expressed it. I might have done the words in the wrong way and did everything lopsided but I have made a start and an effort must be rewarded.
We were running a business small cafe and that involved unpaid labour of children. We were children who had to be motivated to do the work how does one motivate people at the workplace is to encourage competition.
Because the work is hard and there are many hours there had to be most beastly work done in silence and monk like order because none of us liked to cook?
“We should treat them like Spartans.” Said he that loved to tell such things to show off his education and his well meant manners and advance the causes he most wanted to advance.
“Uh?” asked mother who had not read the Greek history.
So we grew up in a world where we were encouraged to compete against each other to such a high degree that we even had the opposite morality the opposite states of behaviour and all we did was gang up against each other to prove to the other side that we were right and they wrong.
Mother and father had worked in a factory system and we were taught the more production the better for us. Labour of the system was such that by the time we were in our early teens we had the basis for a disaster.
“We must not kill the golden goose but we must fry her as well?”
“But she is the more talented and can do more work!”
“More work means less for me to do.”
“And the less work we do that means more fun time and me time.”
“That is good time?”
“Open competition?” said the man who shared the privileges of being in the odd job of being homeless on the run or something because of having murdered someone back in Cyprus. But he gave his personality to the other one when he needed to be with his Mrs or was it mistress they were together more pleasantly than this sad man who had nothing but a roof over his head.
He had to do this because he had nowhere else to go and mother had to have the protection which he afforded because she would have lost out the land and all that. But the thing was the man was not satisfied he wanted more he asked for the things which a normal man needed a faithful wife who kept the house clean and a cook and some children his own.
He had only murdered a Greek so that was considered heroism but no one saw it that way but the little group who were in there having this chat in my room. I had nodded off and then was awoken by them having this talk which went on more than they had bargained for.
My bed was a little single one and the room was quite small but they were sitting on the edge of some divan and they had drunk quite a lot so in the semi light they said things which were worst then deeds.
“Say something you odd bird?” said her then husband.
“It might be wrong.” Said mother the Zeks her total absorption in the wrong did not tally with her religion what about religion it meant no more than behaving according and if she gave something to charity that meant she not to blame anymore.
“But they are children they will not know anything about what we do and it might give them an insight into life and they can work better but you know best?”
“I know everything.” Said mother.
When I saw this I tried to no avail to stop it then took it on myself to encourage my sisters to go to school and to prove themselves at school in this way. Because they were so rotten most of their friends had tears in their eyes when they left.
Especially Z she argued her spot for six months and would not budge that she would be in the front and not at the back despite being not nearly as talented as the girl she argued with.
You see it is always good to have a good life a good start but what is bad when the start is startling offensive to everyone. How dare you know such a lot about the whole thing you are a child and children don’t know such a thing? Therefore you cannot be a child because you think not about little angels but dark thoughts.
“Children think about angels all the time?”
“Of course they do.”
“My it is a long time since I felt there was an angel; what if there is no angel?”
“You must not say that you are making the teacher cry.”
“You see this man called William Blake he saw angels until the last day he died?”
“He was sober?”
“Of course he was.” My dad was an alcoholic so it meant something that William Blake had his senses about him.
You see when the start begins such deeds as that the child grows not in a delightful way but in something dark and sinister.
My dad is an alcoholic my dad when he alive was an alcoholic then the other was a gambler. The two combined produced us unfortunately.
Two addictions and then more addictions and more addicts then anyone can guess who is a gambler?
“Abdul would game away the house if he could.”
“It would fetch a good deal of money he could bet on horses.”
“Dad I am calling your doctor now behave.”
The gambler would disappear the alcoholic would be sectioned. I did not know the difference which was who. My alcoholic poor father was now resigned with the loss of his freedom.
All the anger was directed at me because of my poor mother which when we had the domestic had been viciously attacked. In fact we had a fight and she and me had the hands off honey of my money and she said the same thing. Because both of us were and are fighting for the means to an end to save our home. She wants a good retirement stage and there is nothing the matter with her faculties.
She will not spend money on this house it is not hers and her children’s house it is my house and she will not spend anything on the whole thing. When it is going to wreck the place that is what her man does he sends in dodgy workers to do jobs and they are there to wreck and ruin the whole house.
“Call the prison guards to guard against domestic violations.”
“What is the matter with you?”
“This is a vile and sinful couple who do it all the time.”
“Imagination is like a disease it must be reined in controlled you have such a vivid imagination and you say such naughty things about everyone.” That is in a day centre when in my thirties and they think they have seen it all.
“I hope so because the thing is when the other husband died of senile dementia in hospital this other man now comes and has moved with me with the man of the moment and he is staid and steady worker and does his phone and does all that. He is not only in work but has a mortgage and is spending less money unless it is at the races.”
“Do you mean he races?”
“No it is the gambling addiction he is a gambling man. He needs money all the time it is his life he comes alive with the game.”
“Is that all?”
“What do you mean is that all because of that mum gives him everything?”
“But her widowhood?”
“Yes it is a bit dodgy to prove?”
“Mostly I stay out of her way.”
“Most of the time he says unspeakable things to me pretends he likes me in fact hates me had expectations of the shop and the house and now he is knocked down in price he is steady worker and he works on my nerves.”
“Mum had two men two husbands at the same time because the honeysuckle eyes were on the run and this other one is a wastrel so to bring us up she had to have a man to turn to.”
“Is it legal?”
“Perfectly because on the marriage certificate it is the honeysuckle eyes who is her husband.”
“So this one is her lover?”
“Not the way she sees it.”
“So you had the domestic?”
“They had to get rid of me did not know that I owned part of the house they are still trying to break the entail.”
“One must entertain oneself must not one you should write a novel about this?”
“I expect that you think that is humorous?”
“It is. I daresay I am more witty than you.”
“I daresay I am as witty as you are.”
“Why are we talking the same words?”
“I am telling this story and it is nothing to do with being a good story teller.”
“Well there is some grammar not to the point.”
“You mean errors?”
“Not Eros it is not about sexual intimacies.”
“What is it about?”
“The consequences to the kids when the parents let go of the usual codes of behaviour.”
“But you turned out well did you not?”
“How many fathers did you have?”
“So the domestic what that was about?”
“A big sends off.”
“A big smile on their faces.”
“A nice try.”
“I daresay when she reaches that stage of dotage we must all bow to the will of God.”
“A nice try is that we are no more that involved because the sins of the family have come down to us and we no longer can hide our shame and sham existence. Maybe I too knew who was what and what had happened but like an ostrich did not want to see. That I did not see meant that I stayed away from the whole thing and made myself indispensable. When I was well they used me and did me as a witness now no more but this angry woman whose life is almost done for by the constancy of my lovers neglect and lack of virtue.
But he too had been a victim and he now in the final stages of coming to his senses but what matters that to me when before he did not see who I was and that I needed him now he sees me and I see his needs and there is a terrible longing to matter more to him than formerly to love and be loved because the years had passed in something like bad will and now the bile is let loose into my flesh and that is bad for me.
Why does it matter to be important in someone called lovers arms? The thing is when it ceases to matter then I can feel ashamed as they all say to us. Because his wife at the door our family rampaging the sidelines and the thinker called mother mating like mad her gambler husband who calls after hours to give her one. The Fiddle has died long live Abdul.
“There is no God.” Said my sister B and she said it right and left and she should know because she saw him in the shaft when she 4 years old. But she not saying anything about that because she in denial she did not speak of the whirling blackness which steadily crept into the heart of the house and how she got narrowly done.
While we pulled her off whatever it was with a broom which is where the thing happened to be but what it was nobody seemed to know and nobody wanted to say anything she said it did not happen it was not meant to be because she wanted to live in that house forever and I had spoilt her lay.
You know my sister is a brilliant girl? Because she is a brilliant thing glorious with the beauty which walks and men follow she is now laying in wait for the odd crown which might flow in her coffers and she is almost there a witch a witch to boot and there is now her nearly blonde hair and her good former looks. We say things which hurt and are now without meaning to neither of us.
The years have not treated neither of us kind and it was meant to be the best life ever. She told me so it is the truth and I spoilt it all for her and she won’t forget nor forgive me.
Now pencil skirts walk with their umbrellas by their sides and they share it with me that they have to have more of that kind of thing. Because it was with the broom and the umbrella I did my black magic of protecting her and they now know about the whole thing.
“Umbrella and black arts?”
“Yes because the umbrella was in a French film the best French film ever I did not know anything about the stuff but liked the idea of the umbrella my sister is not going to be my dad’s lover.”
“What you did not say that?”
“Of course what I am saying is my sister an attractive girl and he wanted to mate with either me or her and she said okay.”
“Where was your mum?”
“she has an illness which is full time.”
“So your mother did not mind?”
“As long as he left her alone she would give up anything except Z.”
“Then she would mind.”
“Don’t you think that a little strange?”
“Yes of course but the thing is Z has the name of our grandmother and my mum the Zeus does object to her mother being smeared.”
“That is okay then that you made rumours and rude accusations and the social services at the door when you speak about these people?”
“The feeling is she thinks me too moral.”
“Yes because in Cyprus where we come from everyone is on their patch eating their own loins.”
“Or the fruit of their loins?”
“Yes because if someone is without any amusement what can there be to pass the many nights at home at the beyond without money without the proper things which guide us?”
“You eat pig?”
“You got a heart of a pig.”
“That is scientific endeavours and we now live another year to pass the time with.”
“It is good is it not to be moral as well.”
“That is odd coming from you who has no reputation at all.”!
“I have a what?”
Her poor mother a poor wife and a good wife who looked after them all when they children raised them up from the bad to the good.
“Good deeds never go wasted.”
“Throw it to the seas and it will come back to you.”My Auntie used to say.
“The psychological gifted one who made me and gave me the skin to handle all the bad things which happened to me subsequently the good and the bad auntie who said nothing is whole bad and nothing is whole good her ghost still says things to me because it is her whole life story which tells me the story of myself and my family.”
“There is nothing like this kind of writing.”
“I am blocked.”
“I am blacking out.”
“Today we have resurrected her.”
“From the ashes.”
“We have made her the new star.”
“Stars in her eyes.”
“We will madden her.”
“Shut that door.”
The rain starts to pour as if on cue. And the rain drops down on our skin and the clouds are making more rain but we stay put in the street saying words which might make a difference. Because otherwise we might need another street another home. We are fighting to make it safer to live our lives in the manner of the lifestyle of the warm and friendly.
“We have done unspeakable things to each other.”
“We meant to do more.”
“She had no intention of being offended.”
“Our lives depend on a few things.”
“One is not to behave and believe in two different things when bad behaviour is never good or to be condoned so we have barred her very hole.”
“No way have we in a manner of speaking come to our senses.”
“Yes your poor mother and you attacking her in such a manner.”
“A strong a healthy girl likes you.”
“It got crossed out as natural.”
“No woman let alone a mother deserved such a treatment.”
“Look doesn’t ask me where there is something bad.”
“That is not the only thing when boys run down whole community of persons.”
“That is learning how to drive.”
“But he did not drive carefully.”
“Look it is a waste of time being a coward one must start somewhere.”
“Let us start at the very beginning?”
“When we do wrong it is wrong and when we do right it is right?”
“So did not your mother teach you what is wrong and right?”
“Where is she now?”
“She has since started her own life and business.”
“So she is minding her own business?”
“That is right as she has more rights than I do I don’t interfere with her life.”
“Let us start at the very beginning?”
“Why did she have you?”
“She made a mistake?”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“She did not understand what?”
“That dad being married meant he did not mean to leave his wife.”
“What did she just say?”
“Her mother made a mistake?”
“That she is illegitimate?”
“That she is not with her own mother that she has been on her own for years?”
“She is lying your honour.”
“I do not want to part with my money she has to go.”
“The odd thing is she has gone.”
“Left without a word.”
“She left her mother to her own devices?”
“Ungrateful child.” Said the social worker how could she not say the worst things about me?
When I could not do grammar I was considered lazy.
“Look if you try it can be done.”
“If you try it is easy. Everyone can do grammar and so can you stop misbehaving stop being naughty. Grammar comes naturally to English kids.”
“It is not easy and I don’t remember what I have learnt.”
“Well you stupid.”
“I am an idiot ok?”
“Look stops misbehaving we know you are bright so why not try harder.”
“I am trying to be nice I can’t do grammar.”
“How about maths?”
“Why it is a far gone conclusion everything ends the same there is no different equation what is the worth of my bothering about the total thing it is written at the back of an exercise book everyone is reciting the same thing so what is the usefulness in that?”
“Because it is nice to know the thing.”
“Nice she said it is nice why it is nice?”
“Look stop pestering me after school there is this class dismissed.”
The moment lost forever and never to be regained; I did not know still hanging for an answer. I did sort find out that knowing Mathematics was nice because the prostitutes know maths because they have to add and take away in order that they do not get short changed by their pimps. At shops it is nice when they give you wrong change you can say certain amount of things to the shop assistant which might be impolite to say before the mistake or the misunderstanding or whatever one likes to call the whole thing.
Our Jane showed me take away and change and doing the job at the shop made it easy knowing some mathematics she took pains in my education and did say when I got my GCSE that my English was not that good that if it had been up to her that mark I got she would not have given me. She liked my poem though especially the one about the sea and there it is this glow in her and she finding time for me.
She said she had her husband and she had the times with him in the snow, I was weeping so much it hurt my chin. But not in front of that woman.
“Let us have peaceful introduction to something?”
“I am not a peaceful narrator if my story is too stressful try yoga.”
“You have now alienated all your readers.”
“I did what sorry-sorry all of you I am so sorry. Did it hurt you all I am so sorry? But believe you me it hurt me more than it did you.”