Maud by Doug Weller


Maud had read somewhere that killing was quite acceptable these days, provided it was ironic.

She sat patiently watching the bay window in her terraced cottage until she heard keys rattling in the door.

“Morning, Mrs. Morris,” a shrill voice called out. A scruffy girl in an apron entered the room.

“How are we, Mrs. Morris? Sleep well? Got yourself dressed? Good girl? Been for a little wee yet? Clever thing.”

The girl, Alisha, disappeared into the kitchen and started bashing crockery around. Maud winced as she pictured her good china, a wedding present from all those years ago, being treated like tat.

Alisha reappeared with a breakfast of scrambled egg and cut up soldiers. Maud scowled.

“Right then, Mrs. Morris, excuse me for being a little quicker than usual today. Did I say, I’m sure I said, that I’m off on holiday now? I’ve got my backpack at the front door”

“I think you did mentioned it.”  Maud replied, then took a deep breath. “Oh Alisha, dear, before you go. Could I ask for one little favour? There’s a tiny leaving gift for you waiting in the under-stairs cupboard. Would you fetch it for me?”

Alisha grinned, at last she was making a connection with old bat.

“In here?”

Quick as lady half her age, Maud wheeled swiftly to the cupboard door and slammed it shut, turning the key in the lock.

Back at the bay window, Maud smiled. “How amusing to hear the home help scream help.”

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