He stopped walking and motioned me to comeover. He handed me a bag and instructed me to collect some of the steaming muckone of the cows had clearly only recently defaecated. I have a strong stomachand working on the croft has hardened me to all sorts of sights and smells, butI can feel the bile rising up rapidly as I realise his intention for thestinking deposit. I lose control and the contents of my stomach are there onshow for all to see and the bag he handed me lies at the bottom of the pile ofmy vomit.
He looks as though he’s going to reallylose it with me. He is absolutely fuming. The cool, calculated persona nowreplaced with blind fury and he’s barely able to contain it. “Get back in therenow, you useless piece of shit, and get me another bag … NOW!” Resistance isfutile so I move as quickly as I can and fetch one of Jess’s poo bags frommother’s coat pocket in the porch. If there had been anything left in mystomach it wouldn’t have remained there because the stench of the fresh manureintermingling with my vomit was indescribable. He seems completely unperturbedwith the stench, standing only inches away from it, his eyes and attentionsolely focused on me.
“Hurry up, you lazy brute,” he roars atme. My feet deceive me as they make their way towards him as no part of mewants to be there. “Get on with it then, get a decent dollop.” A decent dollop?Caroline’s words ring in my ears, ‘it’s time to show him a piece of his ownmedicine’, and I am sorely tempted to get more than just a ‘decent dollop’ tothrow right at that smug face of his! How wonderful would that be? Watching himstood there with a mixture of my vomit and cow dung plastered all over him! Asalways, however, the voice of reason takes over and I know taking matters intomy own hands is only going to make things worse for mother and I. So, with aheavy heart and limbs, I bend over, doing my best to block off my nose, breathinginstead through my mouth. I attempt to take a small portion but he’s watchingme with hawk eyes. “I don’t think so, smart arse; you can easily double that!No more time wasting; fill her up and back inside with you now, boy, before Ichange my mind. Do you want to forfeit your muffin and join your mother?” Hetakes one look at my face which says it all. “No, I didn’t think so, now getmoving!”
I glance up at the kitchen and seemovement. Bless her, mother has clearly been watching the scene unfold, sheknows her fate. As we make our way back into the kitchen, however, she’ssitting there in the same seat as though she’d never moved. The only differencein the scene is that Jess is now lying at her feet. She doesn’t lay there long;the stench has clearly piqued her interest and she’s up on her haunchessniffing the air. “We’ve got you a wee treat, Mary girl! A little mud pie foryou so you can join in with the birthday celebrations.” His voice has lost thewild anger and has been replaced with a boyish giddy excitement, he is lovingevery minute of this. “Out of the way, Thomas; let me do the honours, I want toplate it up for her.”
I sit down next to mother and whilst hebusies himself plating up the disgusting offering, I reach my hand out underthe table and find her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. She reciprocatesand squeezes my hand back. I just want to guide her out of here; to run awaysomewhere far away from this stinking hell hole but she releases her grip, andI am forced to also move my hand back. With his back to us I sneak a look over– he is in his element. He has used one of mother’s scone cutters and hascreated a perfectly formed little dung pie placing it smack, bang in the centreof her plate. Jess is in on the action; both her paws are up on the counternext to him, eager to see what he’s up to, the smell too much for her toresist. He pushes her off. “Fuck off, Jess, you stupid mutt. OK ‘et voila’,Mary; especially for you, a little Mississippi mud pie – ‘Bon Appetit’!”
He places it in front of her and thetiniest little voice pipes up, “No.” It was so faint I was unsure whether I’dimagined it or not but clearly I hadn’t for he’d heard it too.
“No?! No?! You are to deny me, woman?”With that he pulls her chair away from the table and stands in front of her,towering over her, standing between her and the plate. “Mary so help me God ifyou don’t clear that plate up and lick it clean you just wait for it; you donot want to take me on!” His voice is now booming, the words reverberatingaround the small room. “Do I make myself clear?” he says, the words coming outin staccato fashion, a pause between each emphasising that he is not messingabout. With a flourish he bends over; his face right on hers; his handssteadying himself by holding onto the top of her chair. “Well?”
In the same little meek voice, “Yes.”
“Yes what, bitch?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Aah good,” he says, the bluster now goneand he’s back to being Mr cool, calm, and collected. “Well don’t let me stopyou then, tuck right in.” He moves out of the way and pushes her chair back intowards the table. Then he makes his way back around to the head of the tableand gaily takes a large swig of the amber liquid.
There’s silence and no movement fromeither mother or myself, neither of
