Sue Gardner

Our Fiction

Sharon spat on her handkerchief and rubbed it over Michael's face.
Michael screwed up his eyes. 'Mum!' he whined. 'I already washed!'
'You still have spaghetti sauce round your mouth.' Sharon carried on wiping. 'We can't have you looking like a dirty little urchin. We've gotta have you making the best impression. You don't want the judges looking at you and thinking, "Who is this dirty little boy who can't even wash his own face?" Pride, Michael. You gotta have pride in yourself. Else you won't get anywhere in life. Now where's your jacket? Let me look at you� stand up straight...shoulders back...head up. Now don't you look the part!'
Michael sighed. He started to chew his bottom lip.
'Did you clean your teeth already?' she continued.
'Yes. You can smell my breath if you like.' He opened his mouth ready to give his mother a face of minty air.
'That doesn't prove you cleaned them. Show me your teeth.' She lifted his chin up. 'Open�'
He opened his mouth to form an 'O'.
'Wider�.and put your tongue in� hmm�very good.' She patted him on his newly brushed hair.
'Did you want to check my teeth?' a little voice asked from across the room. 'I cleaned mine for longer than Michael. They're very clean�'
Michael threw her a greasy look.
'I'm sure they are, Melissa dear,' Sharon said, 'but we haven't got time now. We've got to get going. Hurry up and get your shoes and coat on� and today you could learn something from your brother.'

During the drive to the civic hall, Sharon put Michael's tape in the machine, 'just to get the music in his head' she told a complaining Melissa.
Melissa put on her walkman and slunk down in her seat.
Sharon's head nodded in time to the music, with her hand conducting on the steering wheel.
Michael held onto his seat belt and stared out of the front window.
They arrived so early, Sharon ushered them into front seats.
'Mum!' Michael protested, 'can't we sit a bit further back?'
'What do you want to do that for?' she said. 'No! I want you to be noticed, so when it's your turn, the judges will already know you're not one of those boys from the State school.' Michael didn't even try to argue.

By the time the eisteddfod was due to start, the hall was packed. Mums, grandparents and sometimes Dads, were fussing over their darling proteges. Melissa buried her head deeper into her book and turned up the volume on her walkman.
Sharon scanned the audience for a familiar face. She waved like an excited schoolgirl when she spotted Julia Stokes from number thirty-two. She put an arm around Michael and mouthed false concerns to her at his nervousness. Julia gestured and sympathetically mouthed back "good luck".
'You're going to knock them dead!' she said to Michael and he stared ahead at the shiny black grand piano.

As the judges were being introduced, Melissa suddenly came to life putting an arm around Michael. 'Remember', she said, 'don't rush the start, and if you think too hard about that A flat, you'll play the B flat. And just remember what we talked about, eh? Don't worry about what Mum says. We both know she knows Jack shit about how to play. You'll be right. Do it for us, okay?'
Michael nodded as he listened. Melissa gave her little brother a big hug and a kiss. He wiped his hands down his black trousers and waited for his turn.
Melissa sunk back into her seat.

'Oh my God,' Sharon whispered to Michael when his name was called. She had given her darling boy all her words of advice and with nothing more to say, gently shoved him forward towards the stage.
He puffed himself up and strode up the steps and as he approached the piano, he turned and smiled at the audience, his minty fresh teeth white as the ivory keys.
As he settled himself on the stool, Melissa switched off her walkman.

The End

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