It usually ended in a stand up fight and me storming out. At the heart of it, I suspected, was the fact that at thirty-two I still wasn't married. Life, for my mother, was about duty. I wasn't doing mine.Next day I awoke with a familiar, dull ache that followed a day with Rayanne. It was one of these lazy Sundays, when nothing much happens. I donned the lycra. 'Off to visit my mum,' I told Jeff. 'Want to come?' 'Uh, no, no thanks. I've got the, emm, grass to cut.'I smiled. Jeff was scared of my mum. She could be quite forceful in her opinions, and considered Jeff a bit' lightweight'. 'Make sure it's done when I get back,' I said, as I mounted my bike. 'Or there'll be trouble.' Jeff waved a languid hand, not really listening. I set off on the ten mile journey. The feeling of the hard saddle through the thin lycra made it a fun trip.The old house I grew up in hadn't changed much. Nor had my mother. She'd been a gym teacher in a rough school (not mine, thankfully) who'd kept order with. With her cheeks flushed scarlet, Sadie leaned down and Phil kissed her, warmer and harder than he had in months. She’d said yes, immediately. He thought that she would, but he couldn’t be sure. He sat up even straighter so they could embrace harder and he squeezed her tightly to him, a clench of pure triumph. Hot flashing fireworks were going off in his mind as he secretly celebrated. She’d just handed her daughter over to him, to be his regular fucktoy, for as long as he wanted.To Kiara, the clapping had sounded like distant raindrops, slapping hard against a back window. By now she could feel little tears trickling down her cheeks, the act of crying taking over as it usually did when Phil was asserting his power over her life. She tried her best to wipe her face with a screwed up serviette, then, with her blood already starting to rush in her ears, she quickly clambered to pick up her handbag she’d brought with her. She tore the zip open and rummaged inside it desperately. Her.
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