Read Online Mad Cows by Kathy Lette - Free Book Online Page A

with the London literati . . . But then
why were her teeth fillings dissolving?
    More lurking inmates came into focus, sporting that over-experimented-on-lab-rat look.
    â€˜Who’s it, Sputnik?’ demanded a specimen with dirty blonde hair, red satin shorts, a ruby nose ornament and a facial expression a little too canine for comfort.
    â€˜It’s that kid killer, wotsits,’ Maddy’s assailant declaimed, in the staccato of the seriously tense and totally deranged. Maddy noted the small pupils and the choppy, twitchy movements of a woman sweating out a drug high. The nickname was disconcertingly clear. Sputnik was in her own orbit.
    â€˜Ja know what I’m gunna do to ya, beastie?’ She gave Maddy a look which meant pain.
    â€˜Gee, I don’t know . . .’ Maddy took a wild guess. ‘Braid my labia?’
    â€˜Punch your fuckin’ head in, nonce.’ Tough? This was a woman who did her own bikini waxes.
    â€˜I didn’t hurt my baby, okay?’ she faltered.
    â€˜Why thuh fuck should we believe ha?’ With one swift punch to the stomach, she concertinaed Maddy to the cold, cement floor. Sputnik stood over her – a brittle body encased in jeans so tight you could trace the outline of the sultana she’d had for breakfast. Maddy’s eyes frantically sought out the prison officers at the far end of the association room. They roamed, big, bored cats, completely blasé about Maddy’s life and death drama.
    â€˜I have two words for you,’ Maddy panted. ‘
Social Services
.’
    This stonkered them. To women who’ve been handed the stiff cheese from fate’s
fromage
trolley, these were the most terrifying words in their limited lexicon. The miserable herd stopped jostling and glanced indecisively at Sputnik who answered their silent query by pitching her high-heeled Doc Marten down into Maddy’s side, hard.
    â€˜They were going to . . . take him away . . . into care.’ Reasoning with Sputnik, Maddy surmised, was a little like pissing into a hurricane. ‘I smuggled him out.’ She braced herself as the psychotic Rockette prepared for some more fancy footwork.
    â€˜Lord have mercy! Can’t you smuggle me out too?’
    The old lady was so submerged in her own flesh that although each step was bringing her closer, she seemed to be moving in ten directions simultaneously. Beneath the diamond-encrusted tooth enamel, a familiar flight of chins led to a balcony of bosom above the gargantuan stomach. The thought of Mamma Joy being smuggled out in anything less than a greyhound bus sent titters through the edgy scrum.
    â€˜Or, preferably me man,
in
. . . without his wife knowin’ dat is.’ She bundled Maddy up off the floor and into a bear hug. ‘Where dere comes no beau, de cobwebs grow.’ This was a woman who made Zorba the Greek look introverted. ‘I know dis lady. She love her ba-by. Wot you chargin’ her wid, eh? Aidin’ and abettin’ the escape of a minor? Hee
hee
hee hee hee.’
    Sputnik’s phlegmy growl indicated her displeasure. ‘You ain’t tryin’ to fuck me around are yer, yer fat cow.’
    â€˜You are just as high in my opinion as ever, gal.’ Mamma Joy turned, depositing a breathy side into Maddy’s earhole. ‘On crack, dat is . . .’
    Maddy in tow, she parted the anti-climactic throng with breast-stroke movements and waddled, as though wearing tights two sizes too small – towards the few library books shelved in the corner of the association room. As they pretended to flick through the fascinating range of donated reading material –
Taxidermy for Fun And Profit, Bulgarian Nautical Commands For Beginners, The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini –a Novel
– Maddy whispered gravely, ‘What brought
you
here?’
    â€˜Minibus, what cha think?’ Mamma Joy chortled hoarsely.
    â€˜I didn’t think people got sent to prison