Sixty. Sephy

 

'D'you like this one, Rose?'

'Yyang yyang!' Rose told me.

'I quite agree,' I smiled, putting the orange sleepsuit back on the rack. Orange was not Rose's colour. It didn't suit her, but it was the only colour that didn't.

We were out shopping for new clothes for Rose because she was putting on weight like nobody's business. It was the first time in a long time that Rose and I had been out together with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company. And after everything that'd happened recently, I didn't want to be around anyone else. I didn't have that right. I'd re-enter the world when the photo of Cara Imega that'd been in the papers stopped dancing before my eyes. When the memory of how I'd helped her murderer get away with it stopped slashing at my mind and haunting my dreams, then and only then would I be ready to rejoin the human race. But in the meantime I had to carry on for Rose's sake. I didn't have that much money but I had enough to buy a couple of things. When I used to have money, I never noticed the price of anything. Now I studied the price of everything. And I couldn't remember the last time I'd bought myself any clothes. Not that I was ever into that kind of stuff, but it would've been lovely to have had the choice financially. I kissed Rose's forehead before placing her back in the baby carrier I had strapped around my body. I put her facing forwards so she could give me her opinion of the clothes I was selecting for her. Ensuring the straps around us both were secure and that Rose was comfy, I picked up another sleepsuit set which caught my eye. I kissed Rose on the top of her head. I couldn't help it. Maybe I'd get the hang of this motherhood lark yet. Maybe. When I stopped feeling so wretched and worthless.

'How about these, Rose? They're lovely, don't you think?' This set was so pretty. There was a vivid red sleep-suit with blue flowers, a yellow one with red flowers and a dark-blue one with yellow flowers.

'Yyangga!' Rose gurgled.

'You've got good taste, sweet-pea,' I told her.

'You're Persephone Hadley, aren't you?'

At the sound of my name, I spun round – and then instantly wished I hadn't.

'It is you, isn't it?' said the middle-aged woman behind me.

And if looks could kill, I'd've been cold on the floor with a chalk outline around my body.

'Thanks to you, that murderer Jude McGregor is going to get away with killing one of us,' the woman hissed at me. 'Not that you care – blanker-lover.'

I put the sleepsuit back on the rack and tried to walk away, but she grabbed my arm and swung me round. Others were beginning to gather round now. My face had been all over the newspapers over the last few days, but I really hadn't expected to be identified. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see that others were beginning to recognize me. One hand stole protectively around Rose. I didn't say a word. What was there to say?

'That's her . . .'

'That's the one

'Kamal Hadley's daughter . . .'

'Is that Callum McGregor's baby? You know, the terrorist they hanged . . ?'

And more. And worse. And on and on.

'My husband is a policeman,' the woman who'd started all this told me. 'He says everyone knows Jude McGregor killed that girl. But thanks to your lies muddying the waters, no way could they get a conviction now.'

The evidence was all circumstantial, otherwise both Jude and I would be in court by now. The police had no conclusive evidence, no blood, no DNA, just fingerprints. But I only thought that. I didn't say it.

'D'you really hate your own kind so much?' a Cross man with his Cross girlfriend asked me.

'I feel sorry for that child,' said another, pointing at Rose. 'With a mother like you, she doesn't stand a chance.'

And more. And worse. And on and on.

I started to walk but there was no safe, clear direction. They were all around me.

'Excuse me, please.' I tried to move past the police officer's wife but she wouldn't move.

If I hadn't had my daughter with me, I'd've made her move. But then, if I hadn't had my daughter with me, they would've aimed more than barbed words at my body. I pushed past her, and this time, reluctantly, she let me pass.

'Blanker-lover!'

Scum . . .'

'Slag . . .'

'Skank . . .'

Rose started to cry.

'It's OK, baby,' I whispered in her ear. 'It's OK.'

But it wasn't. And my tears falling on her forehead probably told her that more clearly than anything else I could've said or done. They were right. I wasn't any kind of mother. Rose would be better off without me. Rose deserved to be happy. And with me, she wouldn't be. How could she be with me?

I had to make sure she was happy.

I'd failed miserably in everything else.

In that one thing at least, I had to succeed.

 

INDIGO

Anticipation Revenge, retribution Contemplation False divisions Nighttimes Darkness Absence of light Illusions Delusions Tricks in the Dark Blazing Buried Stillness Purple Sacrifice

 

THE DAILY SHOUTER Thursday 16th September Page 15

 

Nought
Education
'a flop'

The long-awaited report into the educational achievements of both nought and Cross children was published yesterday after a two-month delay. For those who have always supported the idea of noughts and Crosses being educated together, it made disappointing reading. The report showed that nought children do worse at school than their Cross counterparts, with nought boys doing worst of all.

Sofia Taylforth, Minister of Education, stated, 'Noughts have enjoyed the same educational opportunities as Crosses for only a few years. It's unrealistic to expect great strides in educational achievement after such a short space of time. Yes, it is disturbing that nought children do less well in integrated schools than in nought-only schools and it's especially regrettable that nought boys in particular seem to fare less well, but it is simplistic to conclude that nought children are less able than Cross children because of it. Teacher expectations, teaching methods, parental support, home environment, peer group pressure and a host of other factors all have to be taken into account. We in the government will be studying this report in far greater depth before we reach any conclusions.'

Cedric Hardacre, backbench MP, told the Daily Shouter, 'This report just proves what I've said all along. The integration of our schools just doesn't work. It's time for an honest debate on the subject without the knee-jerk reaction of those who speak out against integration being called racists and segregationists.'

Cedric Hardacre has also spoken out against inter-racial marriage and spoken for the repatriation of noughts back to their country of origin.