Hot Stew by Fiona Mozley

Author:Fiona Mozley [Mozley, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643751559
Google: flPpDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B08GFBTQFZ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2021-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Worms and Thunder

Precious holds a carnival mask she bought in Venice. It is embossed with rhinestones and framed with feathers which are black beneath clouds but iridescent beneath sunshine, like an oil slick. The vendor overstated its quality. In the golden light of a Venetian spring, the glimmer appeared authentic. In the copper light of a London autumn, it looks tacky.

She puts it to her face and tucks the elastic strap at the nape of her neck, then spots herself in the mirror. The mask covers her forehead and the area around her eyes, but her mouth and chin are exposed. If someone saw her they might be able to recognize her just from this. It would depend how well they knew her. Close friends, perhaps. Her sons.

She is holding a placard by her side. There is a wooden post in her hand, and the attached sign rests on the floor. Some of the other girls made their own with cut-up cardboard boxes stuck to the ends of broom handles, and slogans scrawled with permanent markers. Precious wanted something more durable, so commissioned a sign from a printers.

“You want it to say what?” the saleswoman asked, aghast.

“You heard,” Precious replied, in no mood to pander. She contemplated a number of slogans, before settling on this one. Others went for jokey signs but Precious didn’t.

“It’s a serious issue,” she told Crystal when she saw hers. “People will be lined up to dismiss us because of who we are. We don’t want to give them even more reason to think we’re thick.”

“Do you think a thicko could come up with this? I don’t think so. The whole point is to attract people’s attention. You’re not going entice anyone with say no to eviction of soho prostitutes. It’s dry.”

“It sums up our aims, unlike occupy my vagina.”

Precious is in her front room, while Tabitha is still in the bedroom getting ready. If she peers out the window she can see the street below. A crowd has begun to gather. She spots some of the girls from her building, and friends from Brewer Street. There are even some women from Chinatown. She registers both Scarlets, Young and Old, standing together, looking cold and bored. Precious didn’t expect mother or daughter to be punctual, but here they are. She sees more signs. The one Giselle is holding reads no to banking | yes to bonking. Precious shuts her eyes and breathes deeply, then opens them again and turns back into the room.

The event isn’t due to begin for another half hour, but it is good people are arriving early. Some have come from the women’s groups they’ve been in touch with, wearing second-hand clothes, scruffy shoes, angular haircuts and oversized glasses.

Tabitha emerges from the bedroom. She is wearing black jeans, a black fleece, comfortable leather pumps and a Darth Vader helmet.

“It’s all I could find,” she explains apologetically. The helmet has a built-in voice modulator to make her sound like a Sith lord. She looks and sounds completely ridiculous.

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