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I am guilty. I feel guilty. It is all my fault. What have I done wrong?
She is my mother. She is who my mother should have been. I feel guilty. It is all my fault. What have I done wrong?
She is not my mother. But she is my mother.
She is all that my mother should have been.
My mother never called me Cuthbert. I was just a thing. Just an extra thing. Just more work. She was never nice to me. She was never to me. How did I come through all of that? I don't know. I became an adult without. Without love. Without everything. I had no mother.
She is not my mother. But she is my mother. She is everything for me.
And that is the problem. I do not do enough for her. OK, I give her what she needs once a week. She never says anything. She is always happy. She is so good to me.
I see her crawling across the roof replacing broken tiles. She mends the taps, the plumbing, she did a course at the evening education classes. She does everything to keep the house together.
She never says much. Nothing. When she wants to say something Honey-Bunch says it. Honey-Bunch knows exactly what Mrs G wants to say. How I don't know.
She is not my mother. But she is my mother. She is everything for me.
I sank into a depression. Angela saw it.
Angela spoke to Honey-Bunch.
Honey-Bunch picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. She removed all of my clothing. She removed all of her clothing and sat on a chair.
“Mrs G will spend the next eleven days with you.”
She put her clothes on and left the room.
Oh, I knew what it meant. How could Honey-Bunch be without Mrs G? How could the girls do without me?
After two days with Mrs G. Very, very intensive. I knew that Mrs G was not my mother. I knew that Mrs G was not my ersatz mother.
I knew that Mrs G was more than that.
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