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Authors: Sally O'Brien

Mother Be The Judge

BOOK: Mother Be The Judge
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Mother

Be

The

Judge

 

Sally O'Brien

 

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Sally O'Brien

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For the four most important people in my life; Paul, Molly, Stanley and Max

I will love you forever x

Acknowledgements

I would like to say thank you to my friends Lisa Waterston and Lizzie Hawkes for being so supportive whilst I was writing this book and for giving me honest opinions on how I was doing. I would also like to thank Jack Frost for helping me make my dreams a reality and to the Metropolitan Police where I worked for seventeen years; without that experience I would never have known what a truly twisted world we live in.
And a big thank you to Emma Lynch, friends forever whatever the weather.

Prologue

The rat picked its way through the detritus which had been caught in the reeds on the stream's edge. Its nose moved constantly, searching for a smell which would lead it to a meal. As the landscape changed from vegetation to a dark cement tunnel, the sound of cars speeding on the road overhead became more apparent. The familiar sound in this urban jungle did not deter the rat from its scavenging.

A strong meaty smell filled the rat's senses as it came across the girl's body lying slumped in the stream. Water washed over her, collecting blood from a jagged wound as it flowed over her naked chest, the small budded nipples showing the very beginnings of womanhood.

A promise of food pushed all fear of the human predator from the rat's mind and it boldly climbed the fleshy mound before it, seeking the smell that tempted its nose. When it found the ragged skin, it began to tear away the tasty morsels, eating with relish its unusual find. The girl did not flinch at the rat's bite. Her head, twisted away from her chest, half open dead eyes staring into a void unknown, mouth open but no longer able to utter a sound.

Once the rat had sated its hunger, it continued its journey along the tunnel and out once again into the heavy vegetation along the stream's bank. Fat raindrops began to fall from the sky, every drop in the stream a second of time that passed with the abandoned body awaiting discovery; another rat already answering the call of her torn flesh.

Jocasta

Chapter 1

Jocasta - 15 years old.

"Children should be seen and not heard Jocasta. Remember we are opening our home to you, nobody else wanted you and we have been kind enough to take you in."

"Yes Charlie." Jocasta responded; eyes cast down to the floor, chewing on her lip in a bid to stop herself crying.

"Now please go up to your room and only come down when we ask you to."

"Yes Charlie, thank you." Jocasta said and walked slowly up the worn stairs, trying hard to ensure her footsteps did not cause any noise on the wooden boards. She walked into her allocated bedroom - a little box room just big enough to fit a small bed and a chest of drawers - sat on the bed which would be hers until this set of foster parents got sick of her and began to wait the eternal wait for dinner.

In her eyes, Jocasta Brown was boring, a nobody, someone to be ignored.

She had been handed over to the Social Services in the town of Olinsbury by her mother Larissa as a baby. Jocasta had been told by her Social Worker that her mother had been raped and she was the result of the brutal coupling, finally born into the world on the 1
st
April 1963. Being a Greek Orthodox Catholic and a very religious woman, her mother had felt unable to abort the baby so callously planted by her aggressor but Larissa also felt she was unable to live every day looking at the face of her rapist.

Since that time Jocasta had been moved constantly between foster homes. She had never suffered abuse, either physically or sexually; she had been an ideal foster child, always seen but not heard as had been drummed into her by every foster parent she had experienced. Jocasta had never rebelled or run away, she was just ignored; fed and watered like a cow on a farm and then moved on. Jocasta knew that as she was nearing 17 it would soon be time for her to be pushed out into the world, expected to fend for herself and truly alone at last. This didn't bother her, she sometimes felt the most lonely when people were around her; at least when she was by herself she could speak out loud and give herself an answer. At least when she was alone she could dream that her life was ok. Just ok, she didn't need it to be brilliant, exciting or challenging, ok would do, she would love for her life to just be ok.

-x-

Jocasta - 17 years old.

Jocasta was given the keys to a two bedroomed flat on a council estate known as Fern Bridge. It was in the Olinsbury borough of Elisworth, West London; an unremarkable borough with its only claim to fame being a one-time residence of an artist with a name Jocasta could not pronounce.

The social worker dropped Jocasta at the front door of her new flat and wished her well. Jocasta turned the key in the grey front door and walked into her new life. The flat had been sparsely furnished by the Youth Help Team and Jocasta surveyed her unmade bed in the first room she came across. She wondered how she would be able to afford bed linen with the paltry sum of money she had been allocated but was still excited at the prospect of being able to put
her
clean sheets on
her
own bed. Taking a pen and paper from her handbag, Jocasta sat on the floor of her new home and began to make a list of necessary items to make her existence bearable. Biscuits were top of the list, everything was ok as long as she had a biscuit in her hand and there was no one around now to tell her when to stop eating them, maybe her life was going to be ok after all, she thought.

-x-

Jocasta continued to live her adult life as she had lived her childhood; no dramas, no love affairs. A nice safe job as a doctor's receptionist kept her busy and ensured she was able to furnish her flat. She had slowly built the contents of her home, adding a new item each time she got paid and was happy there. Although her home and job were sorted, Jocasta knew that she was still a boring nobody; no one in the surgery ever spoke to her unless it was regarding work. They didn't know if she was single or married, happy or sad; didn't even know that Bourbons were her favourite biscuit. She just carried on in life, eyes down, lip chewed, ignored by one and all.

The only interesting thing about Jocasta was her name, but as she had no idea where it came from, that was guaranteed to stop any conversation before it started.

Chapter 2

Shirley Valentine, "That's right Millandra; I'm going to Greece for the sex. Sex for breakfast, sex for dinner, sex for tea and sex for supper."

Van Driver, "Sounds like a fantastic diet love."

Shirley Valentine, "It is, have you never heard of it? It's called the F plan."

Author Unknown.

 

December 1989

The bump of the plane touching the runway caused Jocasta Brown to release the breath she had unconsciously been holding onto since the plane began to descend. It marked the end to a whirlwind month for Jocasta after she had made the first spontaneous decision of her twenty six year life to emulate Shirley Valentine and seek a new chapter in Mykonos, Greece.

-x-

Going to see the film, on her own as usual, inspired her; Jocasta realised she wasn't the only woman in the world who felt ignored and unloved. Worrying she would never feel the love of a man either emotionally or physically she made a decision in the cinema that she would finally take some time off from her drab job as a doctor's receptionist; she knew her roots were in Greece and she believed that fate had led her to the film and would also lead her to the Travel Agents. It was time to get herself a Costas, just like Shirley.

Three days, a long wait at the passport office - well it's not like she had ever needed a passport before - a manic shop for suitcase, clothes and hair remover and Jocasta was ready to take her flight.

Jocasta entered the airport for the first time in her life. She couldn't open her eyes wide enough to take in her surroundings. She felt a rush of nausea as she started to feel there was no way she would be able to work out where the check-in desk was; the queues of people just seemed to go on and on, luggage littered on the floor in front of confused looking groups of people. Children either screaming or hysterically laughing causing their parents to fidget in agitation whilst they waited their turn to check-in. Jocasta took out her paperwork once again and began to go through it, hoping it would give some clue as to which desk she needed to be at.

After thoroughly reading every word on her flight itinerary, Jocasta could only make the decision to find a sign which gave the name of the company she was flying with. She walked along the concourse, eyes flitting left and right hoping to see the sign she wanted; finally as she neared the end and was starting to believe she may be in the wrong terminal, she saw the dull light from a board announcing 'Greek Air, Check-In'. Thankful that she hadn't given up looking as her feet were already aching just from the walk to find her check-in point, Jocasta took her place in a queue of people who looked either bored or severely pissed off. She was neither of these things and couldn't imagine why people would feel this way when they were off on their holidays.

Twenty minutes later and even Jocasta's enthusiasm for her journey could not stop her face from mirroring that of the other people in her queue. The wait seemed interminable; every passenger in front of her had a problem and where she had originally been amused at seeing cases opened and clothes being flung out, knickers and all, while people tried to decide what they should leave behind; Jocasta was now starting to contemplate her own fate when she finally reached the check-in point.

Two hours later, yet another queue to actually get on the plane and Jocasta found herself struggling to fit into the airplane's seat. The belt which was on her chair just would not fit across her legs; she attempted to hide the fact it was undone when the flight attendant came to check but he took great pleasure in announcing loudly to his co-attendee that they would require an extension for seat 34. Jocasta didn't bother to thank him as he reached over to hand her the belt; she could see his amusement was thanks enough. Lowering her eyes to avoid eye contact with the people sitting beside her, Jocasta concentrated on thinking about leaving the ground. It seemed wrong somehow that a tin can with rigid wings would be shooting up into the air and flying her at five hundred miles an hour over land and sea. The pathetic piece of fabric which was her belt, even with its extension could not possibly aid her in an emergency where the plane was crashing into the sea below. Jocasta felt her palms sweating and her heart pounding at the prospect of leaving terra firma, however, she was so excited at the prospect of being the next Shirley Valentine and confident that she would discover herself in Greece that as the plane took off her nerves dissipated and she actually began to enjoy the flight. Apart from the occasional bump it was no different to being on a very large bus and Jocasta made good use of the 'trolley dollies' or the 'arseholes' as she was now want to secretly call them, who offered her fancy packets of peanuts and pretzels with every Diet Coke she purchased and her own stash of biscuits made sure she didn't go hungry on the seven hour flight.

On reaching her affordable hotel, she found it was basic and functional although she didn't want to chance cooking anything on the antiquated cooker in her self-catered apartment. Jocasta made use of her hair removal cream, removing the shrubbery around her pubic area, ridding her armpits of their bristly companions and parting her one eyebrow into two. She gave her teeth a thorough clean and floss rather than her usual cursory brushing and then put on her new blue summer dress. Jocasta assessed herself in the small bathroom mirror; her eyebrows now had far too big a gap between them and had taken on a life of their own; one apparently happy to be above her eye while the other looking as though it wanted to be elsewhere. She decided she may leave eyebrow shaping to the professionals in future. Her brown eyes stared back at her with a shiny hint of excitement in them instead of their usual bored look. She was well covered by her dress; hiding her bulky undefined body underneath. Jocasta felt she looked nice and was ready to face her new life as a single woman looking for love.

Jocasta spent the first few days exploring the island; unhappily hot with constant sweat streaming from every pore of her body. Her Greek roots did her no favours as every drenched item of her clothing reminded her. She had tried to sunbathe and do the 'tourist' thing but the heat was too much to bear and sunbathing was quite possibly the most boring thing Jocasta had ever done. She resolved to keep out of the sun as much as possible and decided to stick to air conditioned restaurants or shaded areas in taverna gardens, where she could read her newly acquired stockpile of books. Her initial anticipation of a new chapter in her life had been quelled by the sweat which continued to drench her even when in shade.

On the fourth day of Jocasta's trip she ventured into a taverna called Dimitri's. Stepping into the leafy shade of the garden offered her some relief from the sun. She sat at a table with the blue and white striped linen which seemed to adorn every table in Mykonos. The bright blue chairs against the white washed walls and the scent from the olive trees made her feel content and she smiled happily at the barman as he took her order for a jug of lemonade then settled down to read her book. The barman there was very kind to Jocasta and visited her table often to replenish her drink and to offer her humus and pitta bread along with some very fat olives. He was not a conventionally handsome man, he had dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes which stared out of a leathery face, that at one time had been ravaged by acne; deep scars bearing testament to the teenage affliction. His teeth were yellowed and uneven, one top tooth sticking out slightly whenever he smiled at her. He smelled heavily of garlic and sweat but rather than being turned off by it, Jocasta found the heady smell very manly and attractive.

"Yassou," he greeted her. Jocasta had no idea what he meant; was he offering her food?

"Sorry, I don't speak Greek." She told him. He chuckled and then said, "It means 'hello'"

"Oh," Jocasta wondered why he had said that, he had already spoken to her earlier to take her order, he knew she was English. "Yassou, to you as well," she offered.

"What is your name pretty lady?" he came to sit beside her. Jocasta's heart gave a little jump, had he just called her pretty?

"Jocasta," she replied.

"Ah Jocasta, the mother of Oedipus," he nodded, "Are you Greek?"

"My mother was, but this is my first time here." Jocasta said. "Who is Oedipus?"

He gave another chuckle and said, "Just a person from Greek Mythology. You have lovely eyes. My name is Avram. Avram Dimitriades"

"Like Costas." Jocasta gasped.

"Who is Costas?" Avram smiled

"Oh no one, it's from a film I've been watching." Jocasta blushed as she realised Avram was staring intently at her.

"Ah the Shirley Valentine yes?" Laughed Avram, "We have been getting lots of them here." He got up from beside her and tapped the table with his finger. "Maybe I make you
my
Shirley yes?" he smiled and returned to his place behind the bar.

After Jocasta had remained in her chair for the afternoon, reading, drinking her lemonade and then ordering a dinner of Keftedes; a meal of beef and lamb meatballs which Avram had assured her were delicious, she paid her bill and made to leave.

"You will come back tomorrow yes Shirley?" Avram asked her. "We can have dinner together yes?"

"Yes." Jocasta replied too quickly and almost with a shout. She blushed once again then left the taverna, looking over her shoulder at Avram who smiled and waved as she walked away.

Jocasta felt sure the fact Avram shared the same surname as Shirley's beau was fated and this liaison was meant to be; on this holiday her life was going to be more than ok, she just knew it.

-x-

Avram introduced her to the sights of Greece and took her shopping, although it was Jocasta's purse which always seemed to provide the money; Avram was a low paid waiter whereas she had a rather substantial fund of savings which she had never had cause to spend whilst in her home town and boring life. Avram swept Jocasta away on a constant stream of attention, she was overwhelmed by the friendship he bestowed on her and she found herself laughing and conversing like an ordinary person; listened to and laughed with, her company seemingly enjoyed. Avram would wink at her as he worked and give her free drinks then take her for walks along the beach in the cooler evenings; hand in hand, chatting about his desire to visit England and see where Jocasta lived.

Into the third week of Jocasta's month long holiday and Avram took Jocasta to a beach called Agios Ioannis after work. The sun was setting as they sat on the pebbled and sandy beach, Avram pointed out the island of Delos in the distance and explained that the beach they were on was the beach where Shirley Valentine had been filmed and it was one of the places in the world where the sun is brighter than anywhere else.

"Just like my love for you." He said, "Brighter than the love I have ever felt for anyone else."

Jocasta's breath caught in her throat. When he had looked deep into her eyes and uttered the words Jocasta had never hoped to hear, she was overcome with emotion and cried tears of joy.

"Hey Jocasta, don't cry," Avram said, taking her in his arms. He began to kiss her and they lay in the sand for a long time kissing and touching each other until the sun went down. As the darkness came upon them Avram became more passionate in his kissing and began to pull at Jocasta's skirt. Jocasta knew this was probably the moment when her virginity was going to be taken and she pulled out of Avram's embrace when a strong fear arose in her.

"What's the matter Jocasta, don't you want to?" Avram asked disappointedly. "It's time, yes? Come on."

"I," Jocasta didn't know how to tell Avram that she was a virgin. "I've never done this before." She breathed. Avram gave a low chuckle.

"Well I have," he assured her. "Don't you worry Shirley, leave it all to me." He said then began to reach for her once more.

Jocasta realised this was her make or break decision. If she walked away now she would probably never see Avram again.

"But... what if I'm not good at.... it?" she asked him to more laughter.

"Jocasta, you don't need to be good at anything, that's my job." They began to kiss once again and she allowed herself to go with whatever Avram wanted. He pulled her skirt and underwear away from her and began to touch her labia, pushing at them with his fingers to reach her vagina underneath. Jocasta could only wonder at whether she had done a good enough job with her bikini line and whether Avram would think she was too hairy or her vagina was the wrong shape or size. She was grateful it was dark and she couldn't see his face; or him hers. Suddenly Avram pulled away from her and began to pull Jocasta up off the sand.

"What's the matter?" she asked him, 'there's something wrong with me'; she thought.

"Nothing," his voice was lower and more gravelly, "I just like it this way." He told her. He placed her on her hands and knees and pushed her head down towards the sand. She was almost taking in a mouthful of sand when she felt a sharp pain in her vagina. Jocasta bit her finger so as not to call out as she didn't want Avram to know that he had hurt her. He continued to pound into her, knocking her head into the sand until finally he gave a loud sigh and stopped. Avram moved away from Jocasta leaving her in the sand with her arse up in the air. She didn't know if she was expected to move so just stayed in that position as Avram began to get dressed. He looked at her in amusement.

"You can get up now Jocasta." He said. She pushed herself onto her knees and took the skirt and underwear from the sand beside her then got dressed.

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