No! She Wasn't Likeable!

No!. She Wasn’t Likeable!

I had definitely got a handle on her…Bernice, my son, Martin’s, girlfriend.  I’m not usually one to criticise someone for the way they dress but I can make an exception in her case.  For a woman her age she did seem to wear the most inappropriate clothes.  Hot Pants!  Who wears Hot Pants these days and certainly not a woman of; I would hazard a guess, thirty five.  My son is twenty five so what is he doing with this woman when he could have his pick. 

Apart from her clothes, her face was plastered with makeup slapped on with a trowel by the look.  Her eyebrows looked like a couple of hyphens and her nose was crooked and prominent so that it was reminscent of a question mark whch made her face look like an exercise in punctuation which, had her mouth been a full stop I would have been perfectly at ease with.

Okay, so we’ve established she was not going to be the next Pageant Princess because the Parade had definetely passed her by but if that was not bad enough being so skinny she looked more like a piece of scrag end of meat, the sort only fit for slow cooking.  But I would have found no argument with her if she was pleasant.  I might have been able to overlook her sense of dress and her make up even though I’ve had my walls skimmed and the plasterer used less than she had on her face.

Still it looks nice and now it’s ready for painting…not her face…my wall!  Although come to think…maybe…and while he’s at it he might want to put up a bit of scaffolding.  Well they could do with a bit of lift if you take my meaning…What my son sees in her I can’t imagine.  He could have his pick but no he goes for a bit of scragg end.  There’s not an ounce of flesh on her.  I’ve seen more meat on a butcher’s pencil and I’ve twice had to stop the dog from trying to bury her in the garden. 

But she was not even a pleasant person and she hated me even though I bent over backwards to welcome her when my son brought her home for the first time and I cooked a lovely meal but she turned her nose up.  She didn’t touch any of it.  I think she refuels at midnight when the ghosts and ghoulies come out.  Talking of ghoulies I wish my son would grow a pair because he lets her walk all over him.

No, I’ve tried but I just can’t take to her.  There’s something…can’t quite…put my finger on.  They’ve been going out for nearly three year now and I hope that doesn’t mean there’s a wedding in the offing!  She comes from a wealthy family apparently. You would think if they’re that well off they would have her face redecorated.   What was it they used to say in that advertisement?  ‘Chuck out your chintz’ well she was still hanging on to hers.

Anyway, it was a nice sunny day so I’d got the windows open and suddenly I heard their voices.  They wouldn’t be expecting me to be home because I should have been on a coach trip with Elsie but it got cancelled…couldn’t fill the coach.  So, they come bursting in laughing and carrying on till she sees me,

‘Oh, you didn’t tell me she would be here,’ she said.

Bleeding cheek!  It’s my house!

‘Yeah, Mum, why are you here?  I thought you were going to Margate or somewhere?’

‘Not Margate,’ I said haughtily, ‘Eastbourne actually…more upmarket…Eastbourne!'

‘Well we’ll go up to your room,’ she said.

‘I’m not having that,’ I said.  ‘They’ll be none of that going on under my roof.  I’m a God fearing woman I am.’

‘What you on about mother you haven’t been inside a church since the day I was christened?’

‘Well…I’ve had…I’ve had…I’ve had an epiphany!’ I said with a flourish.

‘What?’ said my son, ‘if you’ve had an epiphany then I’m witness to a miracle.'

‘Yes, well, she’s not going up to your room and that’s an end to it.’

‘Okay, we’ll go back to my place,’ she said.

‘Then I better come with you seeing as the two of you are not married.  I won’t stand for any funny business.'

 ‘Funny business, what’s she on about?’

‘Sex!  That’s what I’m on about.  He’s a lot younger than you and I don’t want you to lead him astray.’

‘Then you’re about a thousand shags too late!’ The foul mouthed trollop said.

‘Well, I couldn’t believe my ears.  My Martin…a thousand shags…’

All the while I’m taking this in I’m trying to do the math.  Holy Mother of God!  He’s been shagging her almost every night since they met.  See, I’m never wrong I know a silk purse from a sow’s ear and I know a trollop when I see one.  What is more, she was completely brazen about it.  Not a scrap of shame.  I can see why there’s not an ounce of spare flesh on her too.  It takes stamina to keep up with that sort of libido.  And my poor boy was probably knocking himself out trying to keep up.

‘I said, 'Well Bernice, this has got to stop.  I’m his mother and I can’t allow you to lead him astray like this.’

‘Me, lead him astray?   Are you for real?  This is the twenty first century.’

‘Mother you’ve got it all wrong.’

‘Oh, have I?’

‘Yes, you have.’

Well, I thought, this is not the behaviour I would expect from my boy…unless of course he takes after his father.  I fell pregnant with Martin about six months after we were married and once I had him I knew I had to put a stop to all that side of things.  Not that I used to participate.  No, just used to leave him to it.  Like my mother said just lay back and think of England but after Martin was born I thought you can take patriotism too far so I looked for a way out..  He wanted it regularly once, sometimes even, twice a month.  Well, I wasn’t putting up with that.  So, I came up with a plan, looked it up, what the symptoms were, and then the next time he insisted on his conjugals, right at the point where, let’s just say, he was busy, I said,

‘Les, I think I might have Syphilis!’ 

That put a stop to his shenanigans, I can tell you.  He very soon withdrew from all negotiations, if you take my meaning.  Next night, he’d moved into the spare room, following week, he’d moved out and I haven’t seen him from that day to this.  I’ve always been resourceful.

But this one, this Bernice, she had led my son away from the path of righteousness so I said to her,

‘You’ve put him up to this.’

‘Err no,’ she said, ‘I don’t put him up...I get him up, don’t I Martin?’ she said tallking to him but looking at me..

The brazen hussy, was she…was she…making reference…to his…to his…parts…to his mother!  Now you can see why I didn’t think she was right for him.  Talking about his parts and to his mother of all people!  She had no sense of propriety.

‘You need to go and wash your mouth out,’ I said, ‘talking like a trollop.’

‘And your son loves that I’m a trollop,’ she said, ‘I press all the right buttons for you, don’t I Martin?’

He just stood there open mouthed.

I said, ’Say something Martin, don’t just stand there with your mouth open.’

She said, ‘Yes Martin, say something.  Tell your mother what you like doing and how often.’

‘Whoa!’ I said, ‘Get out of my house I’ll not have you talk dirty like that and in front of my boy too.  He’s had a very sheltered upbringing.’

‘Has he?  Well, he’s come out of the shelter now I can tell you.  Come on, Martin, let’s go back to my house and we can do it there over and over again.’

And with that they left.  I was never more outraged in my life.  My boy led astray.  Now I knew what he saw in her.  When I first met her I thought what does a handsome young man like Martin see in this trollop unless of course she’s a devil in the bed?  Well now I know.  I’m going to need to come up with a plan I could see that.  She definitely had to go and the way Martin drooled over her I knew it was going to be no easy task.  But as I’ve said, I’m nothing if not resourceful.

It wasn’t long before flashing lights and the sound of a siren told me the ambulance had arrived. 

‘We’re just going to wire you up to this monitor Mrs Little.  Is that all right?’

I nodded weakly. 

‘Don’t worry we’ll soon have you there.'

‘My…my…my son’ I whispered ‘Will you tell him…’ I trailed off weakly.

‘It’s all been taken care of Mrs Little.  You just lay back and try not to worry.’

I smiled weakly or should I say fortnightly.  Silly me, I’m getting a little bit light headed.  Anyway, it wasn’t long before they wheeled me into A & E and I was put in a cubicle.  My son came rushing in just at the right moment when I was surrounded by doctors and nurses.

‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry.  I’ve brought this on.  I didn’t mean to upset you.’ He said, putting his head in his hands on the bed.  I patted his head…

‘Don’t upset yourself, son,’ I said, ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Mum, I’ve told her I won’t be seeing her again.  We’re finished.’

‘That’s my good boy,’ I said, smiling while he still had his head in his hands.  

Then he was ushered out and told to wait in the waiting room and I was once again surrounded by a doctor and a nurse.  It’s these NHS cutbacks they can only afford to surround someone with one of each.

As I looked down I could see my son pacing up and down in the waiting room.  Then the doctor came in and said,

‘Mr Little…I’m very sorry.  Your mother passed away three minutes ago.’

End