#juliehamill

[juliehamill]

🎶 Hand it over 🎶

Yesterday I met with George Allen (‘Morrissey Mercury’) to talk about the annual Mozarmy meet which he’ll be curating in 2025. As you know, after eleven years of hosting the best weekend of the year with the greatest people on earth, I’m stepping down.

George and I have been friends on social media for a long time, and the first time I met him was at Hop Farm in 2011. He declared it the first proper ‘meet’ of people who knew each other from Twitter, and recalls me dashing up and down the coach introducing passengers to each other - ‘do you know so and so? Oh she’s sitting 4 rows behind you.’

George was correct - we arrived strangers and left friends, and that little group was part of what grew into a global phenomenon.

George was quietly spoken then (he still is) a shy young gentleman, reflective, pensive, the opposite to overly chatty, overly keen, loud, bombastic me. George is warm and kind, he thinks before he acts. I adored him from the get go.

I’m exceptionally proud of the Mozarmy community we all created with a brand that is cited globally. #Mozarmy is never used with malice, always kindness and it has legitimately saved lives by pulling the isolated and lonely into a place they feel they can belong. Over the years it has become a support network through Smiths & Morrissey music, a chance to dance away bad feeling and trouble, and enter the Xanadu of love. It is non-political, non-commercial, and takes no sides. People save their pennies all year to get flights, trains and coaches Manchester just to feel happy in the Mozarmy party atmosphere again.

I led our community with a lot of gut feeling, doing the right thing, rather than the thing I often wanted or the lazier thing that required less work. Over the years there have been choppy waters, and I steered the ship as best I could so that we all stayed together as friends. What I know to be true is, we all just really want to dance and sing without judgement, and I kept reminding myself of that.

The meet is inclusive and it always will be. It is welcoming. It is open. It is equal. To feel that we belong to something is what makes humanity bloom.

It’s because of the crowd that the guests have been so sublime. Everyone who has come and graced the S&G stage has not known what to expect and felt it initially daunting (there’s a lot of persuasion upfront 🤣) but they’ve all left floating on air, knowing they were carried by something special.

For the past few years George has handled all the press we’ve had, so if you’ve seen us in the paper, that was GA. He’s a successful journalist, a podcaster, a fanzine creator and he enjoys a mid priced wine (nothing over a tenner, mind) and his homegrown success has inevitably led him to the point where he’s ready to bring his ideas to the party.

Traditions will remain - Mr Cardboard Morrissey, the signs, badges, the meet-raffle, bands, DJs, special guests, Mozarmy fun.

I’ll say farewell now, but thanks to all special guests, S&G staff, helpers and huggers, you are epic! Thanks especially to Louise, who has put up with so much 🧨 and to Andy Barnett for his help.

Welcome, George - unite and take over 🕺🏽 Welcome Chris, the new raffle raconteur 🎟️

See you on the dance floor! (And after eleven years of leaving the stage to these words - this time I really mean it!)

Love

Julie

[juliehamill]

The Ginger Quiff reviews June. The GQ is a website that muses on music and mental health. Each time one of my books comes out, Neil reviews it. I'd like to thank him for the important work he does and support he gives to creatives who celebrate originality, of which he is one. Link in bio for full review.

Characters: To write each character I inhabit their bones and channel their feelings. I see what they see, touch, hear, taste and smell. I find their inner monologue and their struggle. I express their happiness as individuals. Each character operates at a different pace, because I've noticed that in life, everybody does. We are not all rushing. Some of us just watch; like Frank, for example, who spends ages shaving his face. Or Jackie who watches the fun fair lights beat to the rhythm. Or June who watches the fish food flakes separate out and travel across the top of the water. These are the days before phones and the internet took hold, the 80s and early 90s, where being bored was the catalyst for observations, ideas and thoughts.

Neil goes on to say in his review that you wont find car chases or sensational Hollywood stuff in my novels. It's true I like to write little truths and gentle fiction, designed to comfort. I think there's enough terrible stuff in the world right now. Art is a means of escape. Only art can take you out of everything you live through.

Thanks Neil.

[juliehamill]

My next book 'June' (fiction) will be published on October 31st, 2023. The publishers, Saron (and I), chose this date as pagans believed it signified when the “door” to the Otherworld was opened so that the souls of the dead could enter this world.

This is part III and the concluding part of the Life and Soul trilogy following 'Frank' (part I) and 'Jackie' (part II).

The book is set during the period 1993-1994. June, named after her late grandmother, is now seven years old. She lives with her mother, Jackie, her grandfather, Frank and her mother's French boyfriend, Jean Paul, in a house in Bell Street, Airdrie, North Lanarkshire. Her birth father, Tommy, is in prison.

As with the previous two novels, music features and punctuates the story. There is an accompanying Spotify playlist (2 hrs) that represents the music tastes and references made by the characters from 'June'. You can find it here.

The trilogy is about love in ordinary family life. It's also about much missed loved ones who are gone, the souls of whom can still be present for extraordinary reasons such as love, missing, coping, grief... and other paths.

That's why the series is named 'Life and Soul'.

You'll see.

Julie x

[juliehamill]

I had a brief chat with Camden Town Radio at The Dublin Castle about my new book June and the Life and Soul trilogy. Watch the 6 min video here.

[juliehamill]

Three separate clips from the Clyde 1 radio news bulletins today about my recently released book June, Part III of the Life and Soul Trilogy. I lived in Airdrie throughout my teenage years in the 80s and used it as a place to locate the novels. I never went up to the butchers personally, but remember long queues for butcher meat.

I've lived in London since 1991 (except for NYC 2000-2005).

I guess that still makes me an 'Airdrie woman'

The Life and Soul Trilogy is available on Amazon.

[juliehamill]

Julie guests on Alexis Conran show - Sunday 8th October - Listen back here

[juliehamill]

From time to time I write a guest column for The Camden New Journal or the Islington Tribune. This column asks why the word 'menopause' has 'men' in it. You can read it here:

This column talks about the disappearance of cash:

[juliehamill]

The Life and Soul series by Julie Hamill - what's it about? Listen to a short broadcast about the trilogy and the new and final book, June, out on October 31st.

[juliehamill]

Time for a change - goodbye to hosting rock n roll book club

I’m retiring as host of the rock n roll book club at The Dublin Castle, Camden.  It has not been an easy decision but this last year has given me time to reflect and move a few pieces and projects around in order to focus on others.  It’s just time for me to make a change, and a few things have to go, and sadly this is one of them.

There is no doubt about the fact that I have absolutely loved this chat show job, and I think you could probably tell if you ever attended.  Getting to read and talk about music is a complete passion of mine, it’s exciting, and I don’t hide it.

Amazingly, the club was a success after just a couple of nights.  We (Tony Gleed and myself) started in September 2017 and by Feb 2018 we were featured in Time Out as a must-go-to destination. A year later, we were featured again. We built a great relationship with the regulars (and the irregulars).  As the host I relished the interaction and rock n roll debauchery from an absolutely sparkling audience of charming hecklers. Thanks to all of you for making it the very best evening.  You were the absolute kindest and your support was a landing cushion for my terrible jokes. You arrived positive, in good humour and ready to come at me or the guest, and in the best of exchanges I was ready for you too.  I will never forget the sound of your forced laughter.  You kept me afloat and saved me during some VERY awkward moments.  Thank you for sending sympathy ‘She-Raz’ to the stage, this also kept the nights buoyant.

I was privileged to interview some incredible musicians, heroes and writers - the memories of which will stay with me forever.

I enjoyed the summer when we toured book club at The Union Club in Soho, we doubled up on interviews with legends like Chris Difford and Mark Bedford.  I also got to interview Sylvain Sylvain in Manchester.  He loved it so much he wanted me to do the rest of his tour with him but I was going on holiday and other hosts had been booked.  The thought alone that he wanted me to chat with him again had me absolutely on the roof with joy. We kept in touch. I, like many others, are still feeling the deep sadness of his untimely death.

Bands came to play at The Dublin to support some of the authors and two that stood out for me were the Pete Jones all-star band and Faith No Man, totally awesome shows.

I would like to thank Tony, Jim and Henry from the pub. More about Tony in a minute.

I would like to give special thanks to all of the publishers I worked with, most especially Omnibus’ David Stock, an absolute icon, and his colleagues Imogen and Baz.

Thank you to everybody that tolerated me interviewing them, some of whom, amazingly, have remained friends.  There are one or two I hope I never meet in a dark alley, and one that makes me wake in the night with cringe. 

Here’s a list of who I slew:

Ian Shirley - our first guest author, great fun, up for it, did things in the bar after with the KLF blow up sheep we bought him.  Our first sign, it got bigger.

Matt Jacobson on Morrissey - confused him with my Taylor Swift tee, loved his exploration of crazed fandom.

Penny Pepper - a joy, a triumph, a poetic genius and so very naughty...

Chris Difford - so smooth he rolls quietly on wheels.  Brilliant at The Dublin, even better at The Union.  Full confession of his turbulent career with great back stage at Top of The Pops moments.  I did not mean to co-ordinate my outfit with his book cover.  The second time I wore a tie which befuddled many, including one viewer Nicola who asked if I’d got a new job as conductor on the buses.

David Barnett - hero of Suede fans, knowledgable, lovely man.  Took the book club to a new level, standing room only.  A trailer video was made of this night by Yann Jones.  Thanks Yann, you’re a star.

Nicky Weller - Love her, love her book, small warm audience, should have been a lot bigger but football and sex pistols tribute were our competition.  Barry Cain also brilliant, worked with him again later.  

Bedders & Terry Edwards - Two steps beyond, what a pair, fantastic, Madness audience lifted their game that night, heckling joy. One audience member (Ryan?) grabbed my mic and sang.  This is when I thought, ‘This is what I want this night to be.’  Interviewed Bedders and Edders again at The Union joined by Death of Guitar Pop - a sensationally talented band, especially live.  Note the fancier sign.

Sylvain Sylvain - A New York Doll, oh God yes.  We were joined backstage by Morrissey’s nephews who brought his old Dolls records from his mum’s house to sign.  I loved Syl, he was totally the right amount of wrong.  Moz also sent me a gift that night, given to me as I walked on stage.  Thanks Sam, you know what you did.  I was spinning for weeks. L-U-V Syl X

Kevin Cummins - I had interviewed Kevin a few times by then and we do get along great (as long as I’m doing what he says).  He insisted on sitting in my chair, so there was a kerfuffle at the start as we switched. We talked through his glorious gorgeous photography book, he is an astonishingly talented diva.

Janis Winehouse - An absolute maternal icon.  We met a few times in advance to go through the evening as we needed to build a lot of trust.  Helena (ghost writer for ‘Loving Amy’) was immensely supportive that night.  Janis was the tender mother I wanted to cradle in gentle questioning; it was a different approach for me and it was right.  I loved it when Michael Collins, Amy’s step brother and childhood friend came on stage to talk about Amy for the very first time.  Janis is lovely, with a great husband and family and friends.  We’ve stayed in touch.  Thanks to Ruti who offered us mum or dad, and we’re so glad we picked Amy’s mum.

Derek Philpott & Bruce Thomas - Chaotic, brilliant evening.  Will Birch spilled a glass of wine all over me on stage, so that set the tone immediately. I blamed Owen Paul for the spillage (not ‘my favourite waste of time’) we gave the blue paper that mopped up the wine as a prize to a fan of Owen.  Sorry but it was Will’s wine.  Derek was great.  As the evening continued with Attractions legend Bruce Thomas I managed to knock over his first base that be brought to play. Thank God it didn’t break. Funny moment when we pretended Elvis Costello walked in at a crucial point, ‘And here tonight..!’ Funny for me, maybe not for him, if you’ve read his book.

Adrian Harte - one of my favourite nights.  Loved his book on Faith No More, investigative and fascinatingly talented band of individuals that kicked off a genre and inspired many.  I didn’t know much about them but I love their music, and it’s great when nights can surprise you like that.  Adrian was a great guest.  Made better by the live set from Faith No Man - let’s just say I can’t wait to see them again.  Tony had man flu that night, Dani stepped in and she rocked out!

Dave Barbarossa - Dave has a spark about him that I can’t put my finger on, like he could go up in flames of greatness at any moment.  An excellent fiction writer; he thrashed the drums for us afterwards. Wish he’d write another book.

George Galloway - A I Introduced GG as ‘the dark suit wearing Perrier drinking Dundee-boss’, Tony started up ‘Dedicated Follower of Fashion’ by the Kinks and George walked from the back of the room through the crowd taking handshakes, bouncing along, ‘they seek him here, they seek him there...’  He got on stage and me and him had a dance and we all sang along.  We hadn’t even started talking and it was already a great night.  The sharpest, most eloquent orator I’ve ever met.  Great memories of the 70s from his audio book.  

Clifford Slapper - I’m not joking when I say that pins and jaws dropped when Cliff played at The Dublin and again at The Union.  Great Mike Garson/Bowie expert and fabulous talker, but the piano playing, wow, just wow, I long to hear him play again.

Daniel Rachel - I don’t want to say a fight broke out but there was a moment when Daniel locked horns with Nettie Baker - who was in the audience - about Eric Clapton.  There was nothing I could do to control it, I had to wait it out, sit back and shut up.  I was exchanging panic glances with Tony who frankly did bugger all to help.  He sat back and enjoyed me squirming.  I got my revenge when he hosted.  Nevertheless Rock Against Racism is an excellent, in-depth and involving account of important history and Daniel gave us a great night.

Celeste Bell & Zoe Howe - Wonderful tales of Poly Styrene, beautiful book.  Celeste spoke gently and fondly with the support of co-writer Zoe.  I was able to tell John Robb afterwards how much Poly loved him, he said he never knew.

Steve Lamacq - A lot of half ciders.  A right royal rip into the 90s.  An argument about Manic Street Preachers then another argument about Blur.  Full and frank DJ confessions. Absolutely fantastic and hilarious, Steve is just great.  I probably sparred with him the best, he took it from me and chucked it back, perfect.  Never would I ever sit on the floor of the Dublin Castle for a photo, but he insisted.  He said I was the new ‘Jo Whiley’, which is a lovely compliment as she’s fab.  But I’m just me.

Nettie Baker - A chip off the old Ginger block and no mistaking.  I got along great with Nettie, she’s got a fire for sure but she also liked a bit of cheek and we laughed a lot. We repeated the celebration of her books at The Union.

Clem Cattini - When I say an honour I really mean it.  What a legend, one of my favourite interviews.  Read his book, he was THERE.  He played on over FORTY number ones.  I felt humbled in his presence.

Will Birch - Full house and already funny before he started, Will is a great writer and raconteur not just about Nick Lowe but also his own career in the Kursaal Flyers.  The book is excellent.  A perfect evening, a lot of dancing and his very cheeky friend who made a comment about flattening grass to me and I ripped his face off.  He laughed, so did I.  You just have to take it in The Dublin.

Matt Everitt - He kept trying to interview me, when I was interviewing him.  His second nature as questioner kept taking us off track but it was really funny and we let it flow.  Matt has a lot of great stories to share.  Tony refused point blank to play Menswear that night, but ended up going head to head on the decks with Matt later.

Lucy O’Brien - A very talented female-icon writer, her book on Madonna is excellent but her Dusty book is sensational.  Absolutely relished getting into the fascinating and complex life of Dusty.  Lots of dancing afterwards.  Tony excelled in his DJing that night, along with the Nick Lowe night (Will Birch).

Gail Thibert/Wayne Reid (Ribs) - A couple of punk icons, both great writers, they paired up for this night. Tony loves a punk night. I interviewed Gail and Tony interviewed Wayne.  A camera crew came from Brazil to do a feature on book club.  Both excellent books and enjoyable reads.  The television feature went out to nine million viewers.  Mad eh?

Wayne Hussey - A personal highlight as I grew up with his music as a teen fan. We had dinner beforehand and he signed my singles.  I was shaking.  I had to leave early to power walk from the restaurant and shove some furniture around in the back room of the Dublin to get into the pro-zone and out of the fan. When he arrived he was a bit nervous which was great to see given his stellar career and experience.  His interview was sensational - watch it on youtube - there were two women who sat at his feet all night, a bottle of red wine was passed through the crowd for him, like some kind of quiet ceremony, he got escorted to the loo by an enthusiastic female which worried his PR, I could tell you more, but I’ll just say this:  My God, what a night.  Legendary.  We talked for two hours and everybody still wanted more, especially Wayne, he loves a party and so do I.  We did a radio show together the next day and then I went to see him at Nambucca when he shouted out to me from the stage.  There’s another post on this website about Wayne which explains the connection.  We have stayed friends, which is an honour.  Read his book it is GREAT.  I’m excited for the follow up.

Jo Wood - Unintentionally hilarious, at times mind altering.  Jo is quite other-worldly, she flutters like a happy butterfly.  Great Rolling Stones photo book to talk through, projected on a screen.  Jim always had to go to Crystal Palace to get the projector, I don’t know why this made me laugh but it did.  JIm is a diamond. I left my specs behind the sound desk and couldn’t read my questions.  I had to mime to Tony and Jim to bring them to the stage and they did not like going into my handbag.  A LOT of men in suits in the audience, ready to fall at the feet of Jo Wood, and no wonder.  I bet some had engagement rings.  This one made the Camden New Journal.

Don Powell - Ah, Don!  Brilliant!  You need to know his life story asap, and how he keeps a diary to help him live day by day.  I love the idea that I’m in Don Powell’s diary, it’s quite mental.  Brilliant Slade stories, especially about Dave Hill’s wardrobe.  A freezing cold night beside the Thames, but such warm chat.  Barry Cain joined us again and he sang!  Pizza after with publisher David Stock, Don Powell and Tony was a highlight.  Dinner with Slade, at Chriiiistmaaaas! I mean come on feel the Powell energy...

Mo Foster - What bass legend Mo Foster doesn’t know about guitars is beyond me.  I got my education.  Fantastic Cliff Richard stories I still laugh about to this day.  Mo was great.  That dress wasn’t.

Pete Jones - An absolute bloody firecracker.  Pete Jones is a walking talking fruit machine I couldn’t and never ever wanted to shut him up.  I think I died laughing that night, he just kept rolling out the stories and the continuous verbal punches from the excellent audience really made it everybody’s night. Awesome PiL and Brian Brain stories involving Martin Atkins, Pete’s childhood simultaneously funny and a bit sad too. Great set after from his all-star band.  Such a warm crowd of support for Pete and it’s easy to see why.  His book is frankly five star, although Pete himself would argue it’s six.

Brian James - Brian is great to interview.  Dead easy going, mellow and entertaining.  This interview came into its own in the second half when joined by Lord Dave Treganna and rogue roadie Ivor Wilkins.  It was a relief for me to stop talking with Brian’s writer John Wombat after the first half.  I don’t know why but we just didn’t jive.  I tried my best to win him round and put him at ease but he wasn’t having it.  Maybe he wanted to interview Brian just the two of them, I don’t know, or he wanted a straight Q&A.  I’m not good at that, I like conversation, a nice flowing chat.  I look forward to Brian’s life story penned by him, I love The Damned and The Lords.  Brian James is cool as.  Dave and Ivor rock.  Sorry John x

Janet Devlin - great book penned by the former X-Factor finalist.  ‘My Confessional’ is completely worth the read of a teen’s struggle to battle her demons or accept them.  We did this on the online platform Stage It during lock down, Janet has a great team around her and loving fans.  She’s also a beautiful singer.  Lovely online event but I missed the crowd, there was nobody to look at or feed off.  The audience keeps it lively, unpredictable rock n roll, and I need them.

Covid put a stop to our next events which were Madness, Sheila Rock, Angie Bowie, Dave Ball and Bobby Elliot.  We were gutted.

I’ll miss hosting the book club but I’m so grateful to hold the memories.  The club, which I started with my good friend and colleague Tony Gleed, will continue with Tony as host.  Nobody knows more about music that he does, he’s brilliant to work with and exceptional fun. He hosted some of the evenings too, covering The Fall, The Damned, The Beatles and a great interview with Richard Strange.  He’s open to other hosts too, so get in touch with him if you’re an author that would like to work with a particular interviewer. We are planning to do a radio show together when the studio reopens.  I have yet to meet a sharper, funnier more infectious b’stard whose accents and impressions are much, much worse than mine.  

I’ve had a ball, now it’s onto the next thing.  Thanks everybody, especially Tony. 

Photography credits:  unknown, let me know what you shot!

[juliehamill]

Frank prequel: A June Hangover

After reading 'Frank' and 'Jackie' many people have asked to know more about the matriarch 'June', Jackie's mum, and her seemingly distant relationship with her daughter. In the second book, 'Jackie' we find out that she was a successful local singer and popular cabaret act, 'Miss December'. We discover that she surrendered her limelight to become a wife and mother. Furthermore, a deeper secret emerges from her past.

Here she is as a young mum; a short story in a prequel to 'Frank'.

This is a bonus story that will not be part of my next book.

1969

The 'H' tap squeaked as she turned the four pronged handle tightly to stop the drips. She climbed into the bath, the boiling water burning her skin deservedly, she felt. She scrubbed her body red with a hard brush then washed her hair and sunk down deep to rinse it, hoping the water would penetrate and rehydrate. Get her clean.

I have to stop.

Today it changes.

No more.

This is it. Today.

I’m not going to touch it anymore.

She added hotter and hotter water and laid a cloth over her face.

No more drink. No more drink. Dear God please.

She laid in the bath until the water turned cold and her toes and fingers turned wrinkly, then opened the plug and watched the steaming water lower around her. Her body began to cool as she watched it disappear. Reluctantly she stood up and placed a towel under her arms and tucked it tightly around her chest, slightly cruel, slightly edged.

She drew a bottle in the steamed up mirror of the bathroom cabinet.

Is that all there is for me, now?

She rubbed it away to see her reflection.

My face. Branches and cracks.

‘Is that all there is?’ she sang, ‘Then let’s keep dancing.’ Her once beautiful voice croaked, forcing a cough.

She turned away from her reflection, as she often did the morning after. She rubbed cold cream into her cheeks.

Nobody wants to see the state of me, not now. Back then yes - but not now.

She moved away from the mirror into her bedroom and stood staring into the wardrobe meeting the smell of ironed dresses, skirts and blouses, worn and rehung. Closing the dark wood doors, she reached for her dressing gown and buttoned it up over the top of the towel. The buttons were large and easy to close; it was second nature.

Jackie would be at school now. Frank was good for dropping her off early on days like these. Or rather, every day. She smoothed beige foundation all over her face and neck. The powdery cream sank straight into her skin and she patted it to fade out blemishes and lines. All of the broken red veins on her cheekbones and nose were now coloured beige. She added a peach blusher to find the apples of her cheeks, now more pointed corners than plump hills. She applied mascara and a light lipstick. She dabbed her old sweet scent onto the nape of her neck, almost recognising herself. She pointed the hairdryer to the top of her head, switched it on, and sat there, with her eyes closed.

She began to sing over the noise, her scalp burning hot and wet. She drifted back into old thoughts of being photographed for the front page of The Advertiser. ‘Miss December’, as she was known then, before she married Frank McNeill. She cut ribbons for supermarkets, flashed smiles for clicks, as she sauntered around Airdrie in the latest Glasgow gown.

What could I have been? What am I now? I was somebody.

She thought of her life, and last night, sitting like a teenager on her knees, records spread out around the living room carpet, a drink beside her, while Frank and Jackie slept in bed.

‘Breakfast in bed! Kisses for me! You don’t have to say you love me!’ she sang, as she traced a finger over Dusty Springfield admiring her hair and confidence, searching for similarities between them.

People said I sounded like you. I should have been like you. I’ve got to be a mum. I’ve got to be a good mum and a good wife, Dusty.

She reached for the glass to finish the drink.

I won’t drink tomorrow. If I don’t have it in the house I won’t drink it. I’ll finish it now.

She poured herself another drink, this time just vodka, without soda to help me sleep. She leaned back amongst the records.

Why am I drinking on a Thursday night, alone, downstairs in my house? With school in the morning?

Well why can’t I have the odd vodka after Jackie’s bedtime?

This house is spick and span and our Jackie is well cared for.

Frank couldn’t ask for a better home. I had his dinner ready.

No-one can criticise me for that.

I can go without a drink if I want to.

I have before. For lent.

I can do it again.

I won’t drink during the week.

Just at weekends. Thursday is the lead up to the weekend.

Fridays and Saturdays. Maybe Sundays just to finish off a good couple of nights.

Everybody does it. And if they don’t, they’re boring!

That’s what I’ll do. Can’t NOT have a drink in the club. Can’t not have a drink at a party, Dusty. People will look at me funny!

Start fresh on Monday. No drink on Monday. Or in in the week.

There’s no harm in it.

Jackie’s well in bed before I have one so she doesn’t see.

What’s the difference – she doesn’t know.

It won’t affect her. As long as she never sees me drinking it’s okay.

June kept her bottles under the kitchen sink, at the back. Frank never went under the sink as it was all June’s cleaning bottles and cloths under there. There was no need for him to look, no need for him to know.

She switched off the hairdryer and pulled the brush down through her hair. Incredibly, it looked nice, sitting in its usual place, neatly arranged after years of training.

You need to eat.

She headed downstairs to poach an egg. The dinner plates from the night before sat inside the sink. Most of Jackie’s mince was stuck to the plate. June remembered that she had been angry with Jackie for not eating it. She felt a burning regret at forcing cold mince into her daughter’s mouth while she held her nose.

Opening the bin, she scraped it in, vowing never to return to the butcher she got it from. She reached into the cupboard under the sink to get the washing up liquid. She noticed the vodka bottle and was curious to see how much she drank the night before. It was below the usual line, by about an inch. She remembered the ‘one more’, ‘last one’, ‘tiny one’ conversation she’d had with herself. In a rush, she felt the desire to unscrew the top off the bottle and feel it burn down her throat into her empty stomach.

Feeling a slight heat moistening of her brow, she carefully placed the bottle back behind the pipe.

Leaving the washing up liquid beside the sink, she paused to prepare a poached egg on toast, salted it and sat down at the little fold-down formica table to eat. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed two. It was almost time to get the bus to collect Jackie from school.

She cut the slice of toast into tiny pieces and dipped it into the egg yolk. Each piece was held by one prong of the fork. She ate the toast and scraped the egg white into the bin. The noise battered her head. She drank three large glasses of water with two Panadol.

Better get those dishes done before Frank gets home.

June finished wiping down the sink and grabbed her jacket and bag. She walked up to one of the shops that she hadn’t been in for a while and asked for two miniatures. She saw Rainbow Drops by the side of the counter and decided to get a bag for June. Outside, she stood around the corner and tossed back a little bottle in two gulps. As the drink warmed her, her head began to feel sane again, her body less rattled. She threw the empty bottle in her bag. It gave her comfort to know that there was another full one in there, still to drink.

She walked the back road up to school, the second little bottle on her mind. She decided she’d better drink it now, while she was out, so she didn’t have to take it home. She looked around and saw no one, and tilted he second little bottle until it emptied. She felt good, evened out. She began to think she should have eaten a little more toast, but reconciled it against an effort to eat more healthily. As she approached the school gate, Bessie Smith was stubbing out a cigarette on the wall.

‘Hi June!’

‘Hello Bessie, how are you?’

‘I’m fine. Look at you! Always so glamorous for the school pick up! I feel like a right tramp next to you!’

‘Ah don’t be silly now! You always look nice.’

The two mums stood side by side at the gate. June moved around in her bag, keeping the bottles apart.

‘How is Jackie getting on?

‘Ah, she’s thriving, she loves it.’ She put a bottle in her make up bag.

‘That’s great.’

‘How about Vivien - is she enjoying Primary One?’

‘Well it has been a shaky start. I wasn’t sure about the teacher at first if I’m honest with you June – she seems very young to me. Our Vivien was crying every day for the first month and I was worried sick about leaving her. That said, she seems to have settled down a bit now. And she seems to like the school dinners, all right.’

June wasn't really listening, but she had become an expert at filling in answers.

‘Aww the wee soul. We should get them together to play!’

‘Vivien would love that! She loves Jackie!’

Bessie offered June a cigarette and she refused, politely.

‘No, thanks, I don’t smoke, Bessie.’

‘Oh sorry, June. I thought I saw you with a fag at the club a few weeks ago. Just a cheeky fag, was it?’

‘Oh, did I? It must have been! I must have been a bit tiddly and forgot!’ June nudged Bessie and Bessie laughed, reservedly. She lit her cigarette. The classroom door opened. The teacher came out first followed by a snake of four year olds with coats and school bags.

‘Mummy!’ shouted Jackie. ‘Look what I made!’ Jackie held up a piece of paper with lots of different lines, circles and smudges, all different colours. ‘That’s me. That’s Daddy, that’s you. That’s a birdy and that’s a worm!’

‘Oh this is beautiful Jackie!’ replied June, ‘Tell me what is this?’

‘That’s a tractor, chug chug. See? The driver has milk.’

‘Oh, of course! Yes I see. Wow he is thirsty! That's a big glass.’

Wonder if the farmer's got any vodka in his milk.

‘And that’s the sun, and that’s another birdy, and that’s a house, and that’s the washing, and that’s daddy and that’s you and that’s me! And a worm.’

‘Oh I think the worm is my favourite. What a clever girl you are! So talented! Well done for being a good girl. Mummy is very proud of you. Let’s get on our way now.’ A breath of smoke blasted in June’s face.

‘Listen to the manners of Jackie! Are you listening, Vivien? You should speak more like Jackie! Jackie speaks very nicely.’

The little girl stared at the tree, scratching the bark, ignoring her mother. Jackie ran over and stood beside her.

‘Time to go now. Vivien! Vivien! Come on now, time to go. Will we see you and Frank at the club tonight June?’

‘I’m not sure what Frank’s shifts are this weekend, Bessie, but if we can be there we will.’ June lied, she knew they were intending to go, she didn’t know why she couldn’t just say ‘yes’ like other people.

Vivien left Jackie by the tree and ran alongside her mother and the empty pram she was pushing. After a few steps, Vivien climbed in. June ignored the urge to ask why the four year old was still in a pushchair. June walked over to the tree.

‘Come on now darling, let’s go.’

‘Mummy.’

‘Yes baby?’

‘Can we go swimming today?’

‘Ah, not today, Mummy is very tired, Jackie, I have the dinner to make then daddy and I have to go out.’

‘Can I help you do your make up?’

‘We’ll see…’

They began the walk home and June rummaged in her handbag and pulled out the packet of Rainbow Drop sweets she had bought.

‘Look what mummy got you from the shop! Rainbow Drops!’

‘Oh!’ Jackie leaped, and eagerly grabbed them, knocking against June’s bag. A bottle rattled against her keys.

‘What is that noise mummy?

‘Nothing! Take my hand to cross the road.

‘What’s in your bag?’

‘Just Mummy’s door key.’ June looked left and right and crossed the road. There were roadworks and a long reach crane was standing by some half built flats.

‘Look Jackie! Look up at the big crane. Can you see the man?’ As Jackie looked up, distracted, June quickly retrieved the two bottles from her bag. She threw them deftly over a metal railing onto a grass verge where she knew they'd land silently. She continued talking to Jackie about school as Jackie reached her thumb and forefinger into the the bag to taste every colour of rainbow drop.

‘So what else happened at school today?’

‘Stuff.’

‘What stuff?’ June tickled Jackie’s shoulders and she laughed. She had gotten away with it. June laughed. ‘What’s this stuff I hear about every day? ‘Stuff!’ I’ll give you stuff…’

‘Nice to see somebody having fun!’ A couple approached them with an older boy, secondary school age. June wondered if they had seen her throwing the bottles away, they weren’t there when she checked.

‘Hello Patricia! Hello John! Jackie say hello to Mr and Mrs Morrisson and Jim. How is school Jim? You’re out early!’ June felt flushed and queasy.

‘We’re off to the dentist!’, said the Mrs Morrisson, ‘This one needs a filling.’ She nodded to her son. ‘Too many…’ she noticed that Jackie was eating sweets. She cupped her hand to her mouth, ‘Oopsy!’ she said, ‘Well we all need a treat from time to time!’

Jackie giggled at the big woman. June could see a fond glance exchange between them.

‘Still need me to babysit for you tonight, June?’

‘Well if you’re sure it’s no trouble!’

Mr Morrisson scoffed and looked at his watch. Mrs Morrisson scowled at him.

‘It’s no trouble at all. Me and Jackie love our fun!’ She poked her son, ‘You should come with us Jimmy – we have a –‘

‘No thanks.’ Jim scuffed his foot.

‘Better watch our time!’ Mr Morrisson tapped his watch. ‘An appointment to get to.’ He smiled a smile that showed no feeling, his lips tight.

‘Of course. See you later then. About seven.’

‘Seven is great.’

They said goodbye and walked off in opposite directions.

‘You’re never babysitting for them again, are you?’

‘Shoosh! She’ll hear you!’

‘She can’t hear a thing. Baby Jane is sloshed half the time.’

‘Don’t call her that. She’s a lovely woman.’

You’re feeding her drink habit babysitting that poor child every week.’

‘It’s not every week...’

‘Neglecting your own son, you are.’

‘I am not! He comes with us when he wants to.’

‘Anyway, that’s me away for my Friday pint. I’ll see you at dinner. Just leave it hot on the side.’

Mrs Morrisson tutted but allowed her husband to peck her on the cheek. She walked into the dentist with her son, and Mr Morrisson turned down the street, towards the pub.