Sunday, 31 July 2011

The mid-day dinner gong has been sounded. A tiny child in a white and pink gown has been pushed onto the rush matting by an over friendly and slightly angry retriever. She is burbling hot tears onto her own rosy cheeks and trying to get up. There is no strength in her arms and legs. Two years ago a car hit her mother's at high speed and both occupants were almost killed. It was 1963. I was a baby.
They notice she has fallen from her chair and quickly hurry to pick her up, the big useless lump, the useless invalid. She is growing quite quickly now. She even has hair. You can't see the scars, pipes up one of my Aunts. She is hurt and hungry. There are spikey pins in her face and eyes. They tell her to ask Jesus to help her. The priest will say her will for her this time oh priest do, please I so want to live.

You have to clobber Lorraine when you are a big girl said B to me in a dream. I ended up tough and street tough at that. No one would mess with me shouts angio girl.

She was speaking Jane, says B. It is still a bit spiky. There was nobody there. There was no-one there.
Then I see her. Stripes in the eyes. I see her and the other child and they rush passed and ignore me. I am so alone. No one wants me. I don't have a mother or a father. I died in a car-crash and then they saved me. I don't understand how I got to be twenty three.

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