Aunty Vi and Uncle Roy don’t have no kids, they have a parrot. They taught it to say ‘Bad Lucy!’ and laugh. That’s me. I’m Lucy.
Mum got really angry with Aunty Vi and told her off good and proper. “Lucy’s good as gold, Violet! You’re just jealous because God decided you didn’t deserve children.”
They didn’t speak for weeks after. Christmas was spoiled and Nan wouldn’t let Mum forget how wicked she’d been, telling Aunty Vi she was being punished by God.
But I know the truth. I know that Vi didn’t want no baby. She went to see Rosie Noakes down Garrison Street and Rosie sorted her out. I know, because Dad took her there and fetched her back after, and Dad and Aunty Vi promised each other they’d never tell.
They all think they’re so clever.
They forget about me. They forget that I know everything.
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