WRITING IN GENRES PORTFOLIO

CRIME FICTION:

INSTAMUM

‘That’s it. Big smile for Mummy!’ she said. Magda looked at the image which appeared

on the camera display. ‘Your eyes are still red. Don’t worry, Mummy can Photoshop that.’

The tiny girl sat doll-like on the antique stool surrounded by carefully placed toys in dusty

rose, white and gold. She watched her mother’s eyes glow in the blue light, finger flicking from

one image to the next.

‘I’m hungry,’ said the girl.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Magda, eyes still fixed on the screen, pointing to the table in the corner

of the room. ‘Mummy has set up the next shot, look.’ The girl’s eyes locked onto a plate of

pastel cupcakes on the teak table. Studio lighting framed the scene and wildflowers bound with

ribbon waited in a white vase. A delivery box sat behind the plate with the logo on show. Her

tummy rumbled and a snail trail of saliva dribbled from the corner of her open mouth.

‘We’re going to have to take that shot again sweetie,’ said Magda, frowning at the

camera before glancing up at her daughter. ‘Oh no, honey. Keep your mouth closed!’ Magda

blotted away the spit with cotton wool before gliding a powder puff round the girl’s mouth and

dabbing peach chapstick on her cheeks and infant lips.

 ‘Cupcakes are coming!’ said Magda. The girl glanced sideways at the cakes and smiled.

The shutter snapped. Magda looked at her daughter’s image on the display. ‘Perfect! Now take

this off. Some nice people have sent you more new clothes to try.’

Dressed in her third outfit of the morning, the little girl sat in front of the cakes. Her eyes

dazzled with glitter and her bunny nose twitched at the sugary scent prickling the inside of her

nostrils. She looked over at her mother, who boiled the kettle ready for the coffee shot. One little

finger crept towards the candy cane frosting.

‘Na ah ah,’ said Magda, without turning around. The girl’s finger snapped back and she

licked her lips, tucking her hands under her chubby thighs as if they couldn’t be trusted.

Magda’s neck craned round before her body followed. ‘Not yet,’ she said, smiling and

sniffing the steam from the designer coffee pot perched in her hands. She glided towards to

table, picking up the shutter release cable on the way in one swift movement. ‘You can have

one later.’

Holding the wire with one hand, she poured coffee into a hand thrown cup. She leaned

in to the frame and steam rose to her nose and danced in the sunlight that flooded in through

the window. The little girl looked up at her mother, wondering when she could eat the cake.

Magda’s glassy eyes opened and her mouth broke into a grin. Her jaw lowered like a lever as if

she were saying something, yet her face was set. All the while her thumb drummed and the

camera snapped.

Magda stopped taking pictures and took the cakes away, her grin gone. The girl watched

the cakes disappear into the bin. Magda returned to the camera to look at the pictures on the

screen once again. She frowned as she flicked through more shots before pulling her iPhone

from her back pocket. ‘Over a thousand new followers this week,’ she said as she left the room,

her eyes fixed on the screen. The little girl stared at the cyclops camera, which eyeballed her as
it perched on three long black legs. Frightened, she turned away and looked out of the front

window.

Outside were other children playing together in a garden across the road. She wondered

why she wasn’t allowed to go outside and play with other children. Her tummy rumbled again.

She looked around the room. A bookcase nearly as tall as the ceiling stood by the doorway

where Magda had left. Hanging on a hook next to it was the key to the front door.

The little girl watched the doorway to check if her mother was coming back. When

Magda didn’t return, she rushed over to the bookcase and climbed the shelves like a ladder. As

her hand reached for the key, the old bookcase rocked. She reached a little further and grabbed

the key before climbing down again. The bookcase swayed back into place. Her mother never

had got round to fixing it to the wall. It gave her an idea. She walked over to the bin and

grabbed one of the cakes. She took her time eating it as she walked back to stand by the

bookcase. The little girl listened as she licked the cake. On hearing her mother footsteps she

put the cake down and the bookcase rocked once more.

A few minutes later, Magda lay motionless on the floor. The little girl stared at her vacant

face. On the floor, by her mother’s hand lay her iPhone. Screen cracked like a frozen puddle.

The tiny girl climbed over the fallen books, picked up the phone and sat on her mother’s chest.

She unlocked it with ease and tapped the camera icon. Magda’s lifeless face filled the screen

and with two clicks she became the most famous Instamum of all.

RELATIONSHIP FICTION:
 ASPIDISTRA

‘I do love you Jim,’ said Alice, laughing as she climbed the steps to her door.

‘Ah je t’aime, je t’aime,’ he said, twisting her hair around his finger. ‘You are my good

girl aren’t you?’

Good girl. Those words sounded old fashioned coming from his mouth. A peculiar thing. Like

an ugly dress that didn’t fit her.

‘Good girl?’ she said.

‘You know… will you be good to me?’ he said, nuzzling her neck. ‘Let me do what I

want.’

Her head jolted back. She was not naive. This was the thirties; she knew what he meant

alright. She wanted to, longed to, even if it did mean becoming his mistress. He couldn’t afford

to marry her yet and that suited her. Wife was another dress that wasn’t her style; one she

supposed she would one day grow into.

It had been almost a year since they had met and she knew it would happen one day. Yet

the way he said it shifted something inside her. Her daydreams and all those hours imagining

how it would happen melted away. She had not imagined it as something she would let him do,

it sounded so crude.

‘I suppose so,’ said Alice, as if someone else was speaking.

 ‘You suppose so?’ he laughed.

Jim had always made her feel safe yet her usual flirtatious air escaped her. It felt like a

transaction. Let me. All he seemed to want was her consent. Consent to what? Being a good girl

or becoming his mistress? It seemed impossible to her to be both and unnerved her that he

supposed they were the same thing.

‘Mrs Craven is visiting her mother in hospital tomorrow evening. And Archie who takes

the attic room is working late so we’ll finally have the place to ourselves. What do you say?’

‘Yes, alright,’ she said, unsure of herself.

‘You’re quite sure?’ he asked.

‘Yes. That sounds lovely,’ she repeated. The reality of her affirmation felt, not romantic,

but as if she was signing her name. And for what, she was now not sure. What she was sure of

was that she loved him.

‘Great!’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘See you at... five?’

‘Five it is. Goodnight Jim.’ said Alice.

Alice lay in the bath and struggled to shake off what Jim had said the night before. She

had never been with a man, but she could read her own body like a map. When she was alone,

she fantasised about sharing the secrets of her exotic adventures. The question of consent did not

enter her mind, she had taken it for granted. They were in love.
 Her hand traced the half moon of her hip. Hundreds of goosebumps surfaced on her skin

in resistance. She sat up, splashing bath water on to the floor and looked over her shoulder and

up at the dark frosted glass of the window. Shivering, she climbed out of the bath and wrapped

her bathrobe tightly around her.

Later that evening, Alice stood on Jim’s doorstep and checked her makeup in a silver

pocket mirror. She was surprised to find fear on her face. Unsatisfied, she rummaged in her

handbag and pulled out a new red lipstick. With an unsteady hand, she carefully painted it on her

lips. That’s more like it, she thought.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the doorbell. A sickly excitement danced in her

stomach. Jim opened the door and they stood for a moment in silence. The corner of his mouth

curled into a smile. His gaze unnerved her. Glazed eyes reflected her own face back at her. She

did not recognise this ‘good girl’ that he saw in her place. At twenty-five, she was hardly a girl.

‘You look great,’ he said. Alice relaxed a little. They climbed the stairs to Jim’s room and

he shut the door behind her. She kissed him, as she always did. The sudden animal hunger in his

eyes frightened her, possessed her. She pushed her cheek against his chest, feeling small in his

arms. Almost comforted by the warmth of his skin, until she caught a glimpse of their embrace in

the mirror.

Her face glowed in the gas fire light, floating above the dark folds of her overcoat. She

stepped out of herself and stood face to face with the Good Girl, who peered out from within his
arms. Alice thought, with horror, that he had not see her at all. Jim took off her double’s

overcoat and hung it on the back of the door. Alice watched them, frozen, while he kissed her

neck, his hand sliding up her silk blouse to her breast.

Alice looked down at her blouse. When she had put it on earlier, it made her feel modern.

On her double, it looked girlish and modest. She had always imagined herself caught up in the

moment, her body taking charge. But it had deserted her. No longer her own.

‘Why don’t you get us a glass of wine,’ she said, surprised at her sound of her own voice.

‘Of course,’ he said, smiling. He turned away from the girl to uncork the wine on the side

table. The good girl stood waiting. Alice closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She walked

over to the good girl and took her hand. The Good Girl followed her obediently as she led her

over to the wardrobe. Alice pushed her in and shut the door.

Jim turned around, a glass in each hand, looking up at the real Alice. She glowed in the

firelight,

her red mouth spread in to a knowing smile. As he stepped towards her, he stumbled on

the edge of the rug, spilling red wine on her blouse.

‘S-Sorry,’ he stuttered.

His face was softer now as she took the fuller glass.