The monster stands on the doorstep, a well-practised grin fixed on its face.
I shudder, forcing a smile. “Hi, Margo, come in.” I watch as the squat body is heaved up the step on dumpy legs. Braless breasts swing, chubby jowls bounce as she waddles towards the settee. “Biscuits,” she booms, lowering herself down, her bloated belly bulging.
I scurry to the kitchen, returning with a tray.
“Shop bought biscuits!” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
I blush. “I’ll tell Don you’re here.” Straightening my crease-free top, I head for the study. Tapping lightly, I open the door: “Don, your mother’s here.”