Monday 17 December 2018

The Annual General Meeting of the East Kent Macumba Society by Michele Sheldon

“They’ll not be welcome here again,” says Dad as we watch the convoy of cars speed away. 

They approach the bend, their brake lights flashing red like devil eyes. I wish I could believe Dad but I can’t. So I scrunch mine shut, willing our departing guests to crash and die. When I open them again, the cars have disappeared. Dad sighs heavily.

“Shall I start with the sitting room?” I ask.

“Most definitely not after last year’s fiasco,” says Dad. ‘You can start on the top floor. I’ve already had a quick look and it’s not too bad, considering."

 I drag my feet along the corridor, slowing outside the sitting room door, my hand reaching for the door knob.

“Ryan James!” says Dad, smacking my hand away. “We’ve got a lot to do before your mother’s home.”

“What if I find another?”

 “Pick it up with a plastic bag and put it in the wheelbarrow at the bottom of the garden. I’ll dispose of it as soon as I get a chance. Now, don’t forget to wear gloves. Work your way around and we’ll meet on the first floor.”

“On my own? But that’s six bedrooms... five en-suites.”

“Less complaining and more cleaning, young man. Your mother’s back at 6pm and you know how upset she got last time.”

I stomp up the stairs. How could I forget? The screaming. The tears. Then the side effects from the anti-depressants.  

“She shouldn’t go on her stupid anniversary trip then should she?” I shout.

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