YesBut It's Mother's Cupboard Love - Part 2

Continued from yesterday.

For YesBut’s Image on 10th August 2007 Chewy suggested the caption -

"Old Mother YesBut went to the cupboard to get her poor dog a bone."

The photo suggested the following story to me, (continued from yesterday):

I had put £20 aside to give Terry his monthly pocket money, but I hadn’t bought the chocolate biscuits. I had had to pay the gas and the electricity bill, so I was short of money. What was I to do? Terry would have been so disappointed if he didn’t have biscuits. I thought of asking Mrs Frances, next door, to lend me a few pound to tide me over until the next pension day. But she’s such an old busybody always pocking her nose in where its not wanted.

Honestly I’ve never done it before in my life, and I wouldn’t have done it now, but I was so desperate. When I went shopping in the supermarket, I slipped a packet of chocolate biscuits into my bag. I thought no one had seen me. But when I got to the checkout desk, a child started to shout “Mammy, mammy . . . chocolate biscuits.” I could have died on the spot. My head started to swing, and I thought I was going to faint again. I realise now the little boy was asking for a biscuit, but I thought he was saying I had stolen the biscuits.

The Supervisor saw something wasn’t right and took hold of my arm. I thought she was arresting me, and I just broke down and cried. But she was the woman who had called for an ambulance before and thought I had been taken ill again. She was very kind. Took me to the manager’s office and gave me a cup of tea with plenty of sugar.

They told me to forget about the biscuits, and I should start looking after myself. They wanted to know if I had children. I told them about Terry - it so happened the Assistant Manager knew him. As I said, they were very kind, even got a taxi to take me home.

The next night Terry came around, right away I could see something was wrong. Before I could open my mouth; he told me the Supermarket Assistant Manager had seen him in the pub, and told him what had happened. He was furious with me, said how ashamed he was that his mother was a criminal, and how he was so embarrassed he wouldn’t be able to use that pub again. He wanted to know whether I had any consideration at all for him and his family. How was he to explain to his children that their Grandmother was a thief. Told me never to try and see him or his family again. With that he left the house, slamming the front door behind him.

I’ll write a letter to him, perhaps he’ll forgive me.