*Shortlisted for Gooseberry Pie’s 2nd Annual Writing Contest
Photo by Jason Sung on Unsplash
TW: Inferred child abuse
And she’s running, running past the house where the man plays music her mum doesn’t like but makes her want to dance, past the polish-smell of Lucy’s house with their gas and leccie and meals on the table when Lucy gets in from school, and parents that hug her goodnight and tell her they love her and they’re proud of her, right past Bitter Old Man Tyler who always shouts at her but not today, because, she’s heard in whispers behind hands that hide secrets, he’s in hospital with something called a stroke.
And she’s running past the end of her road, past the allotments with the not-sweet gooseberries her mum’s always saying she’ll make into a pie one day, up into the woods where the gremlins live and eat centipedes after dark, but she reckons it can’t be as bad as being at that place everyone says she should call home, so she keeps on running, her tummy rumbling and her feet feeling sad, shoved into pinching shoes that burn like the cigarettes her mother’s boyfriend put out on her bare skin last night, and she knows she can’t keep it up forever but she’s going to do her best to run so hard and so fast they wouldn’t find her even if they gave a shit, even if they could be bothered to get up off their fat arses and stop watching Gogglebox.
Then—
—she runs right into the arms of her teacher, Mrs Fox, walking her dog right there in the woods.
She tries to keep on running, but Mrs Fox holds her, says she doesn’t have to run anymore, she’s safe, then the teacher gets out her phone and a hankie and hands the hankie to her, but she’s not sure what to do with it until Mrs Fox tells her to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, and Mrs Fox is pressing numbers, and she’s shivering now ‘cos the sun’s gone to bed, and Mrs Fox is talking into her phone, something about someone coming to meet her at her house, and Mrs Fox turns to her and repeats she’s safe now, she doesn’t have to go back to where her mum and the Bad Man batter her.
In fact, maybe no one will hurt her ever again, because Mrs Fox smiles and says so, and she’s OK, is Mrs Fox.
She’s kind.
Bonnie’s words appear in MsLexia, Tiny Molecules, and elsewhere. She shares her UK home with assorted family members, including grandchildren who think they’re boss. To relax, she moves her body, occasionally travelling to loved ones in Aotearoa/New Zealand.
