Into Agnes Livingstone’s kitchen strode a tall confident girl. She had black
hair, long legs, powerful breasts and a silver stud in her nose. Agnes stood
up from her cooking and locked her daughter in a lasting embrace.
“I did it, Mum - I got the gold.” She produced her gleaming gold medal and
laid it in her mother’s hand.
“The best in the world.” Agnes’ eyes filled with tears and they embraced
again.
“And while I was in Atlanta I heard from the school. I passed every exam -
almost all A’s - they’ve made me school captain.”
“Perfect, Lydia, perfect. How was it there?”
“It was good, Mum. I loved it - and people loved me.”
“Nothing bad?”
“A date with a guy who tried to rape me.”
“Oh, Lydia …”
“It was awful, Mum. I thought I’d killed him. Luckily there were others.”
“You had someone there?”
“Someone gorgeous. Don’t worry, I didn’t let him inside … but everything
else. He was in the heptathlon - so strong and gentle.”
Agnes stroked her cheek.
“And the girls?” she asked quietly.
“Two”, Lydia smiled, her eyes shining. “They were beautiful and so kind.
I loved them.”
“Will you be writing to them all?”
“No, Mum. I told them very clearly - when we leave Atlanta, forget me.”
They laughed and hugged again.
“I was offered two photo-shoots and a part in a movie.”
“And?”
“The movie’s crap, I turned it down. The magazines are both nudies. One
pays a lot but I don’t like the people. The other is quality so I said I’d
do it next year.”
Agnes’ face filled with pride.
“You’ve grown up so well, Lydia. I worried about you when your father
died but, look at you.”
Lydia blushed.
“The best in school: the best in the world. You’re in control of your life
now. D’you feel that?”
“I think I do. Yes.”
“Good.” Agnes’ eyes narrowed. “Is there anyone in the world you still
have to answer to?”
“Yes, Mum.”
Agnes’ eyes softened and her voice grew quiet.
“And have you lied to that person recently?”
“No, Mum.”
“Or deceived them?”
“No, Mum.”
“Stolen from them?”
Lydia’s eyes dropped. She bit her lip and reached into her bag.
“Mum, when I left … I borrowed your hairbrush without asking.”
“I know”, said Agnes softly.
At a nod from her mother, Lydia sighed and obediently reached under her
tiny denim skirt to pull her panties down. Her eyes were already brimming
with tears as she bent over the kitchen table.
“There are only two people in this world who can’t afford to forget who you
are, Lydia.”
Lydia gripped the table fearfully - she knew what to expect and, sure
enough, by the fourth stroke of the hairbrush she was already squealing and
dancing like a little girl. Thank heaven for Agnes who was always there to
see she didn’t start believing her own publicity. Wow, an olympic gold
medal - she was really going to get it this time.
Tithanging Torment
