Free Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma by Kerry Hudson

at the post office to cash the benefits books before going to Safeway and getting out the List.
    â€˜Then we’ll last on whatever cash is left for the rest of the week and at least we’ll have food in the larder.’
    For the first few days we had tinned spaghetti, fish fingers and pink wafers, but by Sunday the cupboards were bare and we ate a lot of toast and porridge and talked about what we’d buy the next day in the shining aisles at Safeway. Over toast with a scrape of marge Ma explained she was just getting used to it and she’d find a way to ‘make the grub last’.
    On Mondays, after I’d helped her carry the bags of shopping and packed away the things in the freezer, Ma gave me a soft pound note; my pocket money.
    â€˜Run right there an’ back an’ don’t let anyone take it from yeh, Janie.’
    I ran with the note tightly rolled in my sweaty mitt all the way to the shop where I bought a comic and a Cornetto or sometimes a plastic cone of raspberry-swirled ice cream with a cold, crumbling gumball at the bottom.
    â€˜Do yeh not want tae save some for the week, so yeh can go tae the ice-cream van?’ she asked while I was astride my rocking horse, a drip of ice cream idling down its grey flank.
    â€˜Nope.’
    No, I’d watched the kids from the landing that ran outside our door, chasing the red-and-white van, a pack of animals hunting, and I definitely didn’t want to go down there with my precious pocket money.
    *
    My scalp was tender and my hair fluffy from brushing that I had started at six thirty and had finished after eight. I was dressed in my red dungarees, blue T-shirt and orange plimsolls.
    â€˜So they’ll recognise me, Ma.’
    She stared, shrugged, pushed my vitamin dropper to me and continued buttering toast. ‘Put yer vitamins in yer milk.’
    I squeezed the dropper, watching the oily yellow drops drift over the white surface. My hands were jerky, my head fizzing; today was the day.
    â€˜An’ will there be Connect 4? For me tae play with the kids?’
    Ma shrugged, her face pinched, she never wore make-up any more or went anywhere except for Mondays. I thought that ‘Getting Organised’ must have made her tired. She had bitten her nails to swollen, scabby stubs and I worried my pound-note pocket money was making us very poor.
    I sat and watched
Sesame Street
and tried to swallow down the toast that stuck in my throat while Ma was getting dressed. She came back in a pair of stained jeans, a big black T-shirt with a panther on it that used to be Tony’s, and a pair of white high heels. Her tight curls had become flat on top and frizzy at the ends. I looked at her smoking a roll-up.
    â€˜You look nice, Ma. You’re beautiful.’ She grabbed my arm and pulled my face close to hers, her brown eyes hard. ‘Don’t bullshit, Janie, do yeh hear me? Never to please anyone. Even yer pathetic ma.’
    Her voice was level but there was no hint of a smile. She dropped my arm and gave my forehead a quick kiss. ‘OK?’
    â€˜OK, Ma . . . I think yer hair is a wee bit messy. Will I get my brush?’
    â€˜Aye, Janie, but be quick, we can’t be late.’
    I got my brush and followed the path of the bristles through Ma’s hair with my chubby fingers while she had another roll-up and sat still for me.
    When I finished and she stood, her face was wet from tears and her hair was double the size, soft and full of air as candyfloss. She put her hands to her head and gave a short laugh.
    â€˜Well, this feels like an improvement alright, Janie.’
    She took my hand and we left for my first day at nursery.
    *
    It was a low building with barbed wire on the roof and wind-scorched, flaking cartoon characters on the walls. I told myself that it didn’t matter that it was a different place.
    Ma gave me a winding, rib-crushing cuddle before pushing me into the legs of a barrel-chested