The Weirdo Letters
Some weirdo is sending me letters saying she was brought up by the Devil.
I screwed the first up slung it in the cell crap bin, but she keeps sending the damn things. I just look at them for a laugh. How else?
Who’s to say am not a little crazy. I’ve been locked up all these years for saying your baby was stolen by Satan and dumped six miles away in a field. I’ve got three of her letters so far.
First letter said she understood why I said it was the Devil. She calls him “Daddy.” I can’t get used to that. She says Daddy does things like steal babies when mothers are pissed off with them, have had enough, and ask him to take them away. Got my interest with this.
Afternoon Daddy took Sharon: phone was ringing from my slack Ex saying
‘Bitch-mother. Am going to see you right for grassing me up to the effing Child Support!’
Next door was pounding Shabba Ranks through the paper walls so loud I had to shout, and there was knocking at the door from Mohammed for rent I couldn’t pay. And over it all, poor little mite Sharon, screaming to be fed.
I remember slamming down the phone, snatching up my baseball bat (it’s the neighbourhood), slamming the walls, and opening the door with it raised above my head and shouting’ Go to effing hell!’ in my politest English.
Suddenly all went quiet. Mohammed and his minder just looked at me .said ‘It’s the Curse.’ and walked away.
I must have looked like the Bitch Mother from Hell. Next door was quiet as the grave. Sharon warnt screaming no more. I said ‘0, God!’ and rushed into the bedroom. The window was open. Papa, a little furry elephant was alone in the cot.
Second letter said I probably screwed up the first so she was sending me another. This told me where she’d been brought up after being snatched from a children’s home. God I was enthralled. Where did the bitch get the imagination?
She said it was under the earth. Under the Pennines. Said it was where Hindley and her mate Bradley were headed when they were caught. She said little Teddy bears with sharp teeth looked after them, later giving them to larger dolls like Cindy and Barbie with green cats eyes who taught them the Three R’ s and how to eat, drink and shit properly.
All this while I was frantic, rocking to and fro, clutching Papa the elephant to and fro, to and fro. People would say I had got rid of her. Hadn’t done anything but say a few words. Social worker came round and said’ Where’s your Sharon? I lied. Said ‘At me mothers. Where d’you think?’ The worker knew I’d lied. Next thing police at the door asking where Sharon is. I repeated my lie and they took me down the station. My mother thundered in ‘What the eff you done with Sharon? And Coppers round our house at ungodly hours? What will your father think when he gets home?’ I cried ‘Dad’s dead, mum.’. She said ‘Tell me what’s up, love?’ When I told her, the truth for once, she went spare.
‘How could you leave the defenceless mite alone with an open window? I swore the window was closed.
‘How could you disgrace the family? As if it hasn’t been enough moving into that godforsaken flat when you knew full well you could have brought Sharon up at ours?
I felt like shit. There was no balcony. The window a dozen stories up.
Front door Fort Knox.
Third letter spoke of her teenage years. Dating Mr. Demon who just had to give you a good time while you pushed the boundaries with ‘I’m going to be a nun.’ or ‘Jesus wants me for a sunbeam.’ You just had to dare the poor old demon to touch Holy Water, and laugh when he burnt. They were taught proper manners, sexy makeup, and how to get a guy with a house, a car, and security so you could sell him down the river.
I was well and truly sold when they asked me ‘Do you know a field outside the city? I said ‘I never been outside the city.’ Then they told me ‘We found Sharon, your daughter, with bum marks on her bottom and back of her head.’ 1 said ‘I don’t smoke. Bad for your health.’ The ground was scorched round the baby. I didn’t understand. I was hugging Papa close when the Social Worker said ‘You’re not a capable mother. Sharon is going into care.’ I wept. I whispered to Papa that his name would only be known by us three. Me, Sharon and him.
Before the trial I got a visitor from hell. He was a priest who said ‘There’s only one explanation. Hear me out. The Devil took your child. There’s recorded instances in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries of such events.’ ‘Bugger the history lesson I want out.’ I said. He said ‘Be more careful what you say in future.’ Like he was my effing father. I never saw him again, but it seems the only sense, after an these years.
Fourth letter arrived this morning. She’s just come and gone this afternoon. Letter said she would and she had some news. She said ‘Hi, Papa. I’m Sharon.’ Has my Exes. deep brown eyes, my mothers gaunt looks. Dresses elegant. She also said ‘I was brought up by Daddy and all Daddy’s children tell lies.’