"Victoria - I know you're in there! Open the door."
Me and our Mam hide under the table. It's the man we do call the Removal Man.
I'm frightened of him. I'm shaking so I squeeze her hand. It feels rough and dry but makes me remember all our special times. Mam's grey eyes are a bit sleepy but she gives me one of her smiles. The ones where I can see her gold tooth shine and that makes me feel warm and safe like when I was scared at school and the other girls do call me names.
"Thickie Vicky."
They were right, I suppose. I weren't never much good at school. Numbers and letters - we never did see eye to eye. Well, when I could be bothered to go, that was. I might not have got no qualifications but it don't mean I can't do nothing. My Mam always tells me, and we do sit by the fire in the evening and she brushes out my long, black hair,
"Vicky, you can mend and clean and do make the best jacket tatties I ever do try. That's clever enough for me."
That makes me smile and feel ever so warm inside.
I love those evenings when Mam has had her medicine and she's not sweating and shaking and saying them bad words.
But not everyone sees me as good as Mam does. The Removal Man, from the Social, who's banging on our door right now, don't think I'm up to much. He's shouting, in his high, posh voice,
"Victoria, see sense. Let me in so we can talk. You can't look after a baby. You can hardly take care of herself."
Me and our Mam crouch under the table and pretend we're not in. Mam strokes my hair out my eyes, while I rub my tummy bump. It do be getting bigger and bigger just lately. Mam says it won't be long and the babby will be here. Like the last time ...
"You'll have to be brave, Vick."
I think Mam means when the babby comes. I know when my last babby come, it do hurt. Before the Removal Man come to the hospital and take him away from me.
When I do think of that day it make me cry and cry. I loved that babby boy ...
"Open the door - so we can talk."
Mam puts her finger to her lips and I do hardly breathe.
I wish he'd go away and let me and Mam get on with things.
I know Mam do have her own problems. She shakes and sweats when she don't get her special medicine that the tattoo man in the flats across the road do sell to her. She must be like one of them girls Mams at school that has to have injections too.
"Diabetic," I heard her say once.
But it's different with her Mam. She buys it from Boots not the flats.
If only the Removal Man will let me keep this babby this time. I can show them what I do know.
And if Mam had the babby around maybe she wouldn't be so keen on going over to the tattoo man in the flats with his angry dog and needles.
There's another knock and then it goes quiet.
Just then I feel a shift in my tummy and stroke where a sharp point of an elbow or a knee is sticking out.
I look up at Mam and smile.
"We'll be all right, Mam. If we can just all do keep together."
And Mam nods and smiles,
"Together. That's a good word. The best."
But then the Removal Man do knock again and together feels a long, long way away ...
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.