That Little Hamburger Shop

Price to Pay

Price to Pay.

Later that day, while Petie, gently growled at a little mouse on the TV, I held Father's hand, and asked him the question which I had promised to my mother in heaven. ''I think we should change the name to Elina Gray Hamburger's...'' I said, wringing my hands in a hope he'd agree. ''Course LissyBethy! Course.'' But Father didn't really concentrate on his answer. He was ticking off the payments on the stable bills, and his forehead was narrowed deeply, nearly making his eyes dissapear altogether. I also noticed only a few were were ticked off.

5 bags quality straw. £25

Swarovski crystal collar.£350

Designer John Lewis Tartan Throw.£125

Heat protecter. £100

Grooming set, electronic.£55

Horse chews, set of 525.£405

Stable- made entirely of glass protected by wood... £35,500.

The list continued. I left the room and bit into a hamburger, tomato ketchup squirting out of the burger all over my petticoats. I didn't care not really, I was just mentally adding up the prices in my head. Over £1,000,000. Yes, we were rich, yes Father's horse needed love and care, but he seemed to pay more for his horses than he did for family and our essentials. It was today in which Mother Elina's will was to be assessed again, and the giving out of her belongings. Our family had put this off for ages! But today, Father was distracted.

''Ok, dear?'' I jumped as I saw Ma watching me from the corner of the kitchen, dressed in jodhpurs and riding breeches. ''Yes, thank you, I am fine.'' Ma smiled knowingly, but left the room, her boots slamming against the pricely wooden floor which covered even the furthest inches of our home. But I wasn't really fine. I knew that we no longer had £1,000,000- after last year Father had spent millions on our 5 horses- Yorkan, Starlight (who was Ma's) and 2 ponies for me; Jacqueline and Sheila. I also had a rescued Shetland Pony, all the way from the Shetland Isles, off the cost of wintery Scotland- Peanut. I loved them all so much, and I knew my parents did too...especially my Father, Hank. But...did this mean that he would sell my beloved pets for money to pay for his own? No, he wouldn't do that, the horses and Petie were an essential part of his life and joy. So...the only explanation was...that he was going to sell Mother's belongings. Her Swarovoski crystal necklaces maybe, from Aunt Maybel who lived in London.

I decided to ask him, even though he probably wouldn't give me an honest answer. I knew that for certain-but it was worth a try, before we left in 2 minutes time to go to Uncle Riland's house to assess the will. ''Father! Where are you?''

''Here,'' came the bland reply.

''Oh, hallo.'' I sat down next to him on the armchair, where Petie was lying on the floor, astride his feet. ''Father, you haven't got...'' I swallowed, unable to say the massive amount of money. ''All that dosh. Have you?''

''No,'' he said, shuffling his feet around on the patio floor.

''I haven't. So, I'm going to have to...sell Bessie.''

''No!'' This was worse than I expected. Bessie was originally Mother's life and joy! She would be turning in her grave now!

''WELL! What other explanation do you have, young lady!''

I didn't. ''Or Petie.'' Father continued.''

''....Or one of your precious horses!'' Ma came in to the room, face fuming with anger. ''You know what! You know what, Hank? I'll sell Starlight, ok? Bessie can't go...it holds memories. Never! You won't get rid of the cow.'' And with that Ma weeped and ran out of the room, hankerchief in hand, to the yard, ready to say goodbye to Starlight forever.

Father would never get rid of Yorkan- selfish as usual. But I had an overwhelming respect for my Ma Jac now, she was giving up her pride-filled horse, to keep my memories of my old mother alive. Ma had become very protective of Bessie, as the unusual bond between us grew. She knew, from deep inside her golden, good heart, that my Mother would never fade from my mind, and that the poor cow didn't deserve to go. Ma had loved her, secretley, ever since my Father met her! Bessie loved her too, and me and Father (though she wouldn't if she found out his plans!) I always knew that my birth Mother adored animals, and whatever it came to she would always love our dear cow, and she would never allow anybody to tear her away from our lives. I knew, and always would, that up in the kingdom in the sky, Mother Elina Gray, was still a present member of my family from life 'till death...

Because of all this, I knew nothing could ever return the favour in which my Ma did. If I did find something to return then I sure would do it. For definate! I just wanted to hug her now and never let go from her, because of the amazing, unselfish deed she'd done- sacrificing her joy for my happiness, and my memories. All of my memoirs were firmly stuck in my mind like glue, but I couldn't face knockbacks in that glue. Everytime something of Mother-y value slipped away, it felt like my mind did too- it seemed unreal and unfair. I was in control of my memories, so I should keep them if I wanted and ditch them in the garbage bin- if I wanted! My life, my mind, my choice. At that precise moment, it seemed like time stood still, yet it felt like it was slipping through my bare fingers too- only because I knew that it was time for Mother's will to be read out...

''Ma...'' I hummed confortingly, as I gently sat on the bed she was lying on, ''Come on Ma. I'll look after you- Starlight doesn't have to go yet- we gotta sort of my old Mother's will, haven't we? Hmm?'' It seemed like I was the doting parent and she was an innocent child in a sulk. Prising her hands from around her head, I lifted her, she felt dull and lifeless; like a ragdoll with the patchy clothes and hair sticky with tears. ''Headache?'' I continued.

''Mmhm,'' came the mumbled reply, as she covered her porcelien white face with her chubby arms. ''I'll come to the will reading though, Lisbeth, dear. Important day...important day...'' Simply nodding, I guided her up out of the bed and she rubbed her eyes, feeling lightheaded after being stuck in the same uncomfortable position, as you do. She gave a 'tramp-ish' (as she would call it) scratch in her hair, and walked downstairs, still holding me like I was the only one remaining in the world.