by Wendy Rodley

Created on: May 13, 2009

Megan got up wearily from the table and opened the fridge in search of wine. With her glass full she sank back into the 'dog's sofa' in front of the Stanley. Where had all those memories come from, she hadn't thought about Simon for years? She certainly had drawn the short straw when it came to his allegiance; his Mother was the light of his life. However, there was something very loveable about Alice and it made their threesome manageable. She was a dignified woman who had had a very hard life. Simon was God's one joyful gift to her in a life of hardship, he was her sun and moon. Megan wanted Alice to be her mother and love her with the same gentle devotion. She pined for such a mother and spent years courting that love by being good to Simon. It was extraordinary how passionately she had wanted to belong to that simple working class family.

They would spend most weekends at Bellminster in Alice's little terraced house by the railway. She loved the smell of coal dust in the air, it represented the warmth and camaraderie of that street. The neighbours were part of the family and shared whatever they had with each other, whether it was a bit of coal or vegetables grown on their allotments, everyone was catered for, there was even a sense of bounty that far surpassed any of Megan's memories of plenty.

Alice would always give them her bed and put herself on the little cot in the front room. She was comforted by the fact that they were nestled safely up in her feather bed with a fire in the grate. She would haul coal up the narrow stairs from the basement everyday, and the ashes down the next day. There was never any thought of Simon doing it and she saw Megan as a princess who must be protected from the harshness of menial tasks. She remembered lying under that wonderful eiderdown feeling more loved than she had ever been in her life before, even the trains thundering past the window were part of the charm for her. They could set their watches by the 11.15 to Euston and so, like everything else, the trains were useful too. She realised then, sitting in the West of Ireland, that she had allowed herself to relax her guard for the first time in her life. Another memory cut in, a little one that somehow described the feeling perfectly; Alice had an old bicycle with a basket on the front that Megan would ride to the shops, people waved at her as if she was a star, special, and she would wave back feeling as if she belonged.

Her relationship with

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