Don’t be tempted by the devil. Let him teach you, not taunt you.
“Watch it, girl.” Her step-mothers rasp Jamaican accent rung in her ears, a familiar tone - a lecturing tone. As if she was a child still. “You watch wha’ happen if ya touch dat devil stuff.” She shook her head dramatically. Franky feared it might snap and roll off of her shoulders. “You gon’ end up like dat naughty devil boy down on Parkes Road. Eyes facin’ all differen’ directions an’ dribble even when he walkin’ ta park.” Francis let out a load squeal.
“Ma! You can’t say stuff like that.” She grabbed at her stomach, attempting to push the muscles into reacting. “He has something wrong with him. That wasn’t anything to do with drugs.” Her step-mother tssk-d, her lips pressing against her teeth as she held back her smile. As she rose from the table, Franky’s eyes watched her with admiration. Her full, ample figure moved slowly toward the stove, turning down the heat of their soon-to-be dinner.
No reply. Ma continued to stir at the substance in the pot, her chest seemingly growing heavier with each breath in and out.
She threw down the wooden spoon, and moved back to the table, slamming her right hand down on the wooden table, and she, a wooden lady. The action stunned Francis - her breath tried to get back in her mouth, to hide. There was no-one quite as terrifying as an angered Ma.
“Is that an excuse for you child?” Her eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth reaching for the ground. “Is it?!”
Francis shook her head, her fingers clasped on her knees. Her voice broke out in a whisper, eventually. The deep dark eyes of her step-mother stunned her into silence. “No."
“No… I raise you, child. You might not be from my womb, but you are from my home. I raise you as my own. I feed you, I educate you, I love you… You are the daughter I did never have.. If I..” The dark woman looked away, her eyes looking to the window. Outside, two small boys were kicking a soccer ball between them. “I refuse to lose you, Franky. I seen who you move abouts with. Them boys are no good. Them friends of yours are no good. I seen them.” Her voice cracked as her stare moved back to Francis. Grabbing the chair infront of her, she sat herself down.
Her hands reached out for the young girls, a familiar act. The two were so close, so affectionate. Her love for Francis was like that of a mother for her own child. “I don’t wan’ you to get mixed up in all dat, Franky. You are a good, clever girl..” Francis felt her hands grow cold as her step-mothers moved to her face, cupping her cheek. “You have so much future.. So many dreams.. Don’t get caught in dat silly gang stuff with dem silly yobs. You don’t want to be stuck in Brixton forever, do ya?” Francis shook her head. “No, you don’. And you shouldn’. Don’ be tempted by the devil, child. Let him teach ya, not taunt ya.”
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