Mummy Two

My most favouritist place in the world is curled up in mummy two’s lap; she isn’t my proper mummy, not the one who borned me but she’s lovely all the same.  I call her mummy two.  She said call me Patrisha which is her grown up name but I can’t say Patrisha and I can’t call her darling or the other soppy names daddy calls her.

I’m a bit big now.  I just had my birthday and I’m five. I have long strate hair and brown eyes and daddy says I’m a prinsess but I want to look like mummy two becoz she’s got yellow fluffy stuff all round her face like how an angel looks and pink cheeks and a big chest out front.  I’ve seen daddy touching it and making noises and mummy two had her eyes clozed and said ooh, ah, that’s good or something.  I went upstairs and did it to my front but my hand cort on my buttons and made a hole in my top.  I don’t understand grown ups sumtimes.

Daddy’s very old.  His hair’s going back into his head and he brushes it over to hide the bit that’s missing.  He’s got lots of chins and rezembels the statue of booda what’s on the sideboard.  I think he must be fifty so he will dye soon and then there will just be mummy two and me.  I love daddy but when he dyes becoz of his age and his chins mummy two will buy me lots of stuff like the shoos with big heels I saw and the make up box daddy won’t let me have becoz she loves that stuff and keeps saying as how I’d look grate dressed up like her and we could be sisters.

It’s a week gone buy now, daddy is moor and moor grumpy and shouty with me all the time.  He dussn’t like me sitting in between them becoz he can’t touch mummy two and he shouts when I go into their bedroom and don’t nock.

MUMMY TWO

I cort him on the bed with mummy two and thort he was killing her with his fat body so I ran and hit him with one of my big books until he let go.  It wos my most favouritist book, showing how big animals wot are dead used to work around and eat people.  Daddy wos so angry he tore my book into peeces and threw me outside.  He said lots of bad words too wot I can’t spell so can’t tell you.  I’ve been spending time since, thinking how mean he is and if he kills mummy two I won’t live with him any more becoz I hate him.

Mummy two cooked us a supper full of potatows and meat and the pudding wot I like with sticky sorce on it.  Daddy isn’t torking to me and I herd him saying that I was a pane and a nuisance and his ex had never disiplinned me, and how I was spoled rotten and then he said something like how he was goin to make me go an live with his ex.  I felt very cross when I herd this.  I don’t know hoo this ex is but it sounds like an ax like daddy uses outside, and not nice to live with.  Mummy two came and picked me up and cudled me tite, and I felt her big chest pressed against my face and she smells like the spice cupboard, warm and exciting.  She said very quiet that she would see it didn’t happen and she’d think of something but daddy had a nasty look on him.

I now he’s grown up but I think he’s jelos of me and mummy two becoz sumtimes I think she doesn’t like him being near to her and when he kisses her it sounds wet, like when I suck my hand and she has a funny egspression like when I see worms.  They have only been married a few months but she gets lots of headakes which I now are no fun becoz I fell off my slide and got one once, and it really hurts.  I feel sorry for her.

MUMMY TWO

I don’t think she can have babys of her own and she told me once she always wanted one, and how she loves me lodes and as how that was why she married daddy.  I thort that was strange at the time but perhaps that’s wot grown ups do.  I’m only five.

Anyway it’s horrid at home now.  I make sure daddy dossn’t get too close to mummy two and said I had nitemares so I have to sleep in their bed in between them.  I fall asleep with mummy twos arms around me and daddy is a long way off snoring and makin funny noises.  He hates me and I hate him.

Then I herd him on the phone to sumone, and I herd him sayin how she must take me off his hands and as how I was insuffering, and he didn’t care if her partner wanted me or not.  I don’t now who it was, but he shouted and used another terribel word about me and I ran off and cride a lot.  Daddy used to say as how clever I wos, so I must think of a plan so I won’t go an live with this ax.  I really want those high shoos and make up.

Daddy’s gone out to work now, and mummy two is in the garden and she looks so pritty with the wind blowin her yellow hare around, and she’s waving to me and larfing.  She’s lovely.  I’m just tall enuff to reach the pills in the medisin cabinet.  I can rede good now, and I recognize the word poyson, and I no what drink daddy likes when he gets home.  It’s the one he unwinds with and it tastes strong and sends him to slepe good.

MUMMY TWO

Thank God that’s over.  I hate funerals – well, I do usually but Don’s was almost fun, squeezing out tears and dabbing my nose.  I have to say I looked the very picture of elegant grief with my spotted veil and fascinator which, I have to say, contrasted brilliantly with my blonde hair.  All those sympathetic pats on the arm and offers “to help me through the grief.”  I almost laughed when his doddery old drunk of a father said that at least I had Beth.  Ha!  The spoiled little brat, always clinging to me and poking her fat fingers into my cosmetics and whining about wanting to slop around in my designer heels.   God, I hate kids.

Why the hell I agreed to marry Don when he had her as baggage heaven knows, but I suppose I was so infatuated I didn’t care at the time.  What is it they say – marry in haste and all that?  Who’d have thought that stick thin Don would quickly morph into Mr Potato Man?  Iron self discipline, that’s what I must have had, to put up with all the groping and grunting that made me cringe.  Mind you, give Brat her due, she did her best to spoil his fumblings and let’s face it, when he finally keeled over with blue lips and twitching legs and those frog-like staring eyes I could have kissed her.  Well, I did of course.  I mean, the poor kid loves me.  The plods still can’t come to terms with the fact that a 5 year old sprog could wilfully kill her own father, and I’ve been cleared of any suspicion .  All I had to do was lay on my considerable charm, go heavy on the perfume and unbutton most of my blouse.  Men, doesn’t matter who they are, I’ve still got it.

MUMMY TWO

It’s laughable really.  You see, it was indeed Beth who dribbled what she thought was poison into his favourite tipple.  It certainly smelled vile in the alcohol and she’s not too bright and didn’t realise that it was my Dior Poison bottle she’d emptied.  £100 that cost me – well, Don.  What a bloody waste.  No, it wasn’t an excess of overpowering French perfume that sent my dear departed into fat camp heaven.

It was the rat poison.  My only niggle now is what to do about Beth …..