Mother’S Children

By Sandra Maddix

Mothers Children is about a respect-driven family who are from a Mafia background in todays world. The children do not know and do not care about the world around them because they had no need to; they had everything provided for them. Ignorant to how their desires were catered to as long as they received what they wanted, they could not care less. Mummy gave it to them regardless. Their mother saw no wrong in her children, even though they wreaked havoc in their community. They were her life. No mountains too high for Mummy to climb, as long as her babies had everything they wanted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504996891

Sandra Maddix

Sandra Maddix was born and raised in Neasden, North West London, in 1966. She has a mixed cultural/religious background and grew up in a dominant matriarchal home. Her main belief in life is that knowledge in any form or direction is power; hence she has many qualifications, including architecture, under her belt. Suffice to say writing has always been her passion. Unlike most, she has lived a far from quiet life that gets reanimated through her writing, which does not leave a lot to the imagination. Overall, Sandra has faith in people and life, belief in humanity and all it stands for, morals, values, faith, and respect for life. Anything is possible.

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© 2015 Sandra Maddix. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction, which in part contains my real life experiences, but the characters that I have used in this book are fictional and created out of my imagination.

When reference is made to any individual whose names are identifiable and recognised by the public because of time and place, it is simply because they are prominent in their respective fields and mentioning them is intended to convey a sense of verisimilitude to this fictional work.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/15/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-9688-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-9689-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Sixteen

Sixteen -- Seventeen

Friends

Seventeen -- Eighteen

Parenthood

Eighteen -- Nineteen

Murder

Nineteen -- Twenty

To Whom It May Concern

Feelings Of Love

Twenty -- Twenty One

Future Times

Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to every member of my immediate family but especially to my daughter Jurita, who gave me the inspiration to fulfil a lifelong ambition, and to her father Junior who never gave up faith in me, but pushed me into believing that anything is possible if you want it badly enough.

Sixteen

The year was 1982. I had just turned sixteen and I believed that I was a woman who was socially and financially independent; but what normal teenager didn't? For some reason we always thought we knew everything and rebelled against anything our parents or adults told us.

I had just met my first love. I knew it was him as soon as I saw him. There was something about him that I admired straight away; I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but I knew he would one day be mine.

He started working part time at my work place doing sales work over the telephone, and he thought my name was Lisa Marshall. How I laughed when he called me Lisa before he took my lead up to Michelle, the supervisor.

All I could do as he walked around the tables towards her was admire the shape of his bum and the texture of his hair, which he wore in an afro. I was totally mesmerised by him. Believe me when I tell you that he was really quite beautiful.

He was well dressed and excellently spoken. He was everything I wanted my future husband to be.

I don't think I was his dream woman as I was taller than he was, and by the end of the night as we waited by the main door to be let out, he must have realised just how tall I was. I caught him looking down at my boots and all I could think about was that he was checking out how tall they were or how short I'd be without them.

We were all standing in the doorway conversing and laughing at the various jokes being told by our fellow workers, when I caught him staring at me. It was like he realised that I wasn't the person he had just sat beside for four hours, working alongside, but that I was a whole lot more down to earth than he first thought.

I don't know why it is, but people in general seem to believe that I am a stuck up person, walking around with my nose up in the air, but seriously, I'm nothing like that. I'm only choosy about what I want personally, and as far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you like as long as it does not affect my life.

My first conversation with the man of my dreams gave him a very negative perception of who I was, but then again, who could blame him? I was a bit of a nutter, who flexed and behaved more like a man than a woman. I was known for being a tomboy; after all, men did seem to have all the fun.

Men received enough recognition and they were renowned for their power and strength. I knew this, and I wanted some of it. Because of my tomboyish ways all of my friends and associates were men, and they respected and accepted me as an equal.

After observing his interest in my height and footwear, I looked at him and said, Hey.

By now, he was looking away and I was trying to get his attention.

Hey, you and I took my finger and poked him in the chest. Yeah you.

He turned his very attractive face towards me and looked directly into my eyes.

I asked him, Do you drive?

Yes, he answered, that's my car over there, the green Cortina. I smiled, breathing a sigh of relief, because now we would get a lift and get to my destination more quickly.

I continued to question him, Going anywhere near Stonebridge?

His face automatically lit up, his eyes sparkling with youth and vitality. You could see this man had everything going for him. He answered, Actually I live there, so if you need a lift I can give you one.

I think he was a bit amazed at my forwardness or something; considering I had just met him, he did not seem perturbed by my request, as most men were when they met me for the first time.

At the same time, David, my brother, was talking to me and he said, Sandra, have you sorted it out then? David sounded really anxious to get going, and we were all hyped up, raring to go and sort out this guy who believed he was my man. Imagine, someone like me going out with someone like that, feisty. But it didn't matter because by the time I got to him he'd realise he was dealing with the wrong person.

Our supervisor, Michelle, opened up the door for us and we began to file out of the building. I looked around, trying to spot everyone, and seeing them huddled up all together by the sidewalk and our driver crossing the road to his car, I said to my brother, Yeah Dave, there's our lift over there, so hurry up.

I ran to the car smiling, waving goodnight to Michelle and yelling at our driver, I'm coming. He turned to acknowledge me, then got into his car and the proceeded to pull up the door lock to the front passenger seat, even before I got there.

I got in and turned around and began opening the other door locks, stretching my body to bend to the furthest lock behind the driver's seat. On seeing this he said to me, What are you doing?

Suddenly I was aware that I had not told him that anyone else was coming and now I would have to explain myself. Charmingly I said, Oh, sorry, but my friends are coming too.

I did not wait for his response but quickly flung my door open and shouted, Hey, you lot, get in the car. They all ran across the road and jumped in, one by one, squeezing up against each other, trying to make space that simply wasn't there. Six of them were in the back, all men. My driver sighed, turned on his car engine and drove towards Stonebridge.

At this point I did not feel like making small talk, but thought it was necessary because I did not want my man to feel like I was taking liberties with him and his car, and so I said, What's your name, by the way?

He answered, Oh, so now you're asking! Uhuh, my name is Junior, Junior Lloyd.

I smiled at him and said, Thanks Junior Lloyd, nice to meet you and thanks for the lift.

But my temper was heightening as we drove, and I found that I did not want to continue the conversation any further. I felt as if this guy deserved a bit more, but I didn't feel like being a hypocrite and speaking to someone when in reality I didn't want to speak to anyone.

We were all excited in a way because trouble was our focus, and my main concern was to totally humiliate this guy. His name was Justin, and believe me he was not a very attractive man. In fact to put things quite bluntly he was ugly. He definitely was not my type, not fatherhood goods anyway if you know what I mean. Imagine having a baby with him, it would be ugly, and that thought made me want to heave.

Justin was very black, until he was nearly blue, his hair was not natural but curly permed and very greasy. His eyes were small and set quite closely together and his nose was very broad but the worse part of his facial features was that he had very thick red ruby lips.

He was about five foot seven and quite stocky. Basically he was ugly, in my eyes anyway, and I had to defend my honour by proclaiming to the world that this man and me did not or never would have a relationship, as this was what he was informing everyone.

The only thing I liked about him was that he was covered in gold, and I knew one day, probably the next, that his jewellery would all be mine, as long as I did what was necessary. A bit of sweet talk and my time and company, after all he was blessed to know someone like me because he was way below the attractive ladder for me.

Imagine after all my brothers had told me about men, I was not going to look like the original pussyhole and let him get away with telling people that we were together. No way, he had to be taught a lesson, after all I was zing and zang and more of the male part.

My brothers and their acceptance of me as one of the guys was more important to me and all that I was interested in, and so I thought here goes, and whoever lost, (Justin), so what. That's life, and I knew one thing for certain; it was not going to be me.

My life was never easy. I had been abused physically until I was seven years old and the only time I knew about some kind of home-life normality was when my Mum re-married when I was nine years old and then everything kind of