Breakfast

Terry’s pancakes are cold

and his mood has cooled down too.

‘What took you so long?’ he asks,

but I can’t say

Nicu,

can I?

Nicu? he’d say.

Sounds foreign. Is he foreign?

Thought we’d voted them all out.

Dirty immigrants.

Rat scum.

Knock those boats outta the water before

they arrive, I reckon.

So I say,

‘They didn’t have any lemon juice.

I had to walk to the Co-op.

Took me ages.’

But it doesn’t matter what I say now.

I’ve riled him.

‘Louise!’ he shouts.