The Good Daughter read by Mike Davis – an excerpt from this drama with an unexpected twist:

Transcript:

I scan the spartan aisles of the corner shop, picking what I need while Mother waits outside by the disused Methodist church.
At the checkout, the assistant fills a bag and nods towards Mother.
‘She looks hard work.’ The assistant wrinkles her nose. ‘Can see why the family’s got you in.’
I can’t hold back. ‘That’s my mother.’
‘Oh.’ The assistant gawps, exposing a gap from a missing molar. ‘Well, you get what I mean.’ She turns her mouth down and tuts. ‘I know I couldn’t do it. Still, it won’t be too much longer. By the looks of her, you’ll get a break soon.’ She touches my bare arm. ‘You’re freezing, love. You sure you’re not going down with what she’s got?’
‘Enough,’ I say, holding an open palm to her face.

Outside, I hook the shopping bag onto the chair handle and wheel Mother off.
‘I saw you…’ She tilts her head at the corner shop. ‘In there. Chatting.’
‘It wasn’t exactly chatting, Mother,’ I say as we get going, winding down the hill, stopping when we reach the Ship and Anchor Hotel because something important has come to me.

‘Remember here, Mother?’

I picture my seven-year-old self.

I’m perched on the wall, peering in. There’s the John Dory Man at the bar. He’s hardly a grown man, much younger than Mother and the scabs covering his new fish tattoo aren’t healed.
He’s swigging from a bottle, swaying while she grips his shirt collar and pulls him toward her.

Mother interrupts my memory.

‘What are you on about now, girl?’
‘You always left me outside.’
‘History,’ Mother says, shrugging. ‘Leave it there.’
‘It’s here.’ I touch my temple. ‘I can’t.’