'Waiting for Mam'
by Roger Woodcock
It was all part of that awful day, the vanilla with a flake stuck in the top. I still don`t know how he knew it was my favourite, and I don`t suppose I ever shall.
Ten I was, that sunny afternoon. Creamy white knees and pigtails. I was waiting outside the school gates for Mam to collect me, like she always did. Late she was, which was unusual. Anyway, I don`t know how long I stood there `cause you don`t at that age do you. I was just about to go back to find a teacher when this van pulled up beside me. Scruffy it was, with `Webster`s Amusements` painted on the side. The window was open and I could see him holding this ice-cream cone, bits of the cream dripping down onto his hairy arms. Then suddenly he thrust it through the window, said he knew vanilla was my favourite flavour and would I like to come and sit in the van with him and he`d show me how to play this little game he knew…
I`m twenty-four now, with two kids of my own. I didn`t take the ice-cream of course, or go and sit in the man`s scruffy little van. Well it would have been just the same as accepting sweets wouldn`t it. Mam would have been proud of me I`m sure. But she died you see, that sunny afternoon, crushed under a number six bus on her way to pick me up…