Marla Medizza and the Miopsa mirror. Chapter One.

Chapter one.

Siblings and standoffs.

One minute is a perpetual and exact period in time. Sixty seconds to brew the perfect cup of tea. Sixty seconds, which may affect the rest of your life. There are over seven billion inhabitants in this place we call Earth. Each of us exists in a state of repeated minutes. One minute in time, seven billion actions, with different outcomes.

For Marla Medizza, one minute is enough to change peace to war. Again, another feud of one-upmanship with her elder sister, Stella. Bloodthirsty wolves, both at each other’s throats. A hard-fought game of intense sibling rivalry, but unlike dominoes, Marla was no pushover. She may be the younger of the two, but never succumbed to Stella or anybody else. The tug-o-war rope between them was so tense it was a matter of time before it fractured.

Marla, a seventeen-year-old proud Mancunian young woman, strong, unique, enterprising. Dissimilar to Stella and her younger sister Bella, she did not pursue the swarm. She was her own individual, with her unique outlook on life. Marla had her steadfast stance, from fashion to music, and much more.

Since her accident at the tender age of eight, which resulted in the removal of her left leg below the knee, she felt blessed to be alive. She was a positive thinker, with a habit of categorising each day. A below-average saw raindrops splash against the translucent glass exit to the outside world. Such a day caused her to stay indoors and watch boring television programs on replay and, to top it off, not a crispy bacon-laden sandwich in sight.

Her favourite foodstuff: bacon, marmalade, to a bear. The planet could implode around her if she were munching on a luscious pork delight hidden in two slices of white buttered bread. Marla yearned to gather every bacon sandwich on the planet, make a mountain and sit at the peak. She may find great satisfaction in gnawing her way to base camp.

This day was not related to bacon sandwiches, scraps with her sister. The stage was set for Marla’s one minute. Sixty seconds, uncovering Marla’s frightening future. Her fate was sealed, no matter how shocking. Today, bacon sandwich or not, her world was ready to implode forever. Marla’s one minute will prove to be the most terrifying of her life.

Meanwhile, back at the warzone.

‘What?’

‘What do you mean what?’

‘I mean, what are you doing in my room, Stella?’

‘You are such a grumpy cow, Marla. Why does there have to be a reason I am in your room?’

‘Yes, because this is my bloody room Stella and I do not want you stinking up the place with your vile-smelling perfume.’

‘Whatever Marla.’

‘You need to get out of my room, Stella. Mam, will you tell her to get out of my room?’

‘Can you two shut up? Stella, what are you doing in her room? You know it annoys her.’

‘I just came to ask to borrow a record, Mam. As always, she gives me crap as soon as I walk in the room.’

‘Just get out of my room, Stella. Mam!’

‘Why are you such a grumpy cow, peg leg?’

‘Stella, we don’t use abusive language under this roof and quit calling her peg leg. Marla, can she borrow a record?’

‘No, Mam she can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she gets her grubby fingerprints on the vinyl. The last time I allowed her to borrow one of my albums, it was a big mistake. My album was returned to me with bits of toast in the sleeve and butter on the vinyl. That’s why Mam.’

‘Whatever Marla, Mam what time are we leaving for Nans?’

‘We are leaving in an hour, so have a bath. Wear your best clothes and for god’s sake make sure you are wearing clean knickers. We are taking the Ford Anglia. You know she is temperamental. If we have an accident and you three are not wearing clean pants, I will be mortified.

Their mum had a concern about them wearing clean pants. God, forbid they crash the car into a ditch. Battling to hold on to their last moments of life, wearing two-day-old knickers.

‘I am not pushing it, mam. That car is antique and a royal pain in the arse. Our last journey saw us pushing it up a hill, in the bloody rain. Why can’t we have a swanky car, our neighbours have one?’

‘Because next door’s husband didn’t run off with a girl half his age. Just run a bath, both of you, and meet me downstairs. Come on, shift yourselves.’

‘Get out Stella!’

‘I am leaving, god I detest you, worst sister in the world, ever.’

‘Whatever!’

Bella, Marla, and Stella were symbolic of three sisters growing up in the suburbs of Manchester. The rivalry between Marla and Stella was newsworthy. Stella was the self-appointed matriarch, even though she was merely eleven months older than Marla, aged eighteen. She constantly applied the elder sister card to get her way. Whether that was staying up later than her sisters or borrowing the car, Stella knew how to play the game. Marla had to endure what she called middle sister syndrome, a place where you are neither here nor there.

Unlike her two sisters, she was very much a tomboy, with an ambiguous fashion sense and a resolute spirit. Bella, aged fifteen, the youngest sister of the three, played devil’s advocate between her elder siblings. Bella loved the world and everything in it. She observed life through rose-tinted spectacles. Maybe she did, but that is how she preferred it. It upset her that her elder sisters ripped each other into shreds. But resigned herself to it.

‘You will get square eyes, Bella. Every time I walk into the living room, you are sitting with your face pressed against the television screen. If you get any closer to it, you will be inside the bloody thing.’

‘Yes, Mam, sorry. What are they arguing for now?’

‘I dunno Bella, I despair, truly. It is the Stella versus Marla show on repeat Bella. Stella wanted to borrow an album, Marla said she could not.’

‘Ah, just another day in paradise, Mam.’

‘You girls should tune in to good wholesome music, Cliff—--’ ‘---Yes Mam, Cliff Richard, we know, it’s 1984 Mam, not the dark ages!’ ‘---Well, I am just saying that the spunk rubbish Marla listens to is nothing more than dreadful noise.’

‘Punk Mam, Punk! Please remember to say punk. Never, ever say the word spunk outside, especially in front of my friends!’

‘Punk, spunk it’s the same to me, Bella.’

‘Mam, where are my crimpers?’ shrieks Stella from the top of the stairs.

‘In your wardrobe where you left them, Stella, no need to scream.’

‘I swear she is deaf, that one!’

‘Are you excited to visit your nan today, Bella?’

‘It’s Saturday Mam, I should be out with my mates. Not going to a haunted house to see Nana, she bloody scares me, and that house is the stuff of nightmares Mam.’

‘Ah, she’s a good egg Mother is. She is old school, a tad eccentric.’

‘Mam, Nan is not eccentric, she is as mad as a March hare, and that mole on her face. Ugh, I swear it gets bigger every time we meet her, and it’s furry.’

‘Yes, well, try not to mention that when you visit her. What with them, two upstairs. I need no more earache, from my Mother. Once they have finished in the bathroom, go run a bath, Bella.’

‘Stella, Marla, get a shift on or we will be late!’ Shouts Mum, walking into the kitchen.

‘So, what is this about, Mam? This trip to Nans. I overheard you chatting with her the other day on the phone. What’s the big secret?’ asks Bella, following behind her.

‘Ah, you will understand, Bella. Once we get there. Now go upstairs and get ready. We have a long journey ahead of us. Especially with the two warmongers along for the journey.’ Mum gasps.

‘Bella, do you want to wear my snow-washed denim jacket with the shoulder pads?’

‘Yes, please Stella.’

‘Yes, please Stella!’

‘What is your problem, Marla?’

‘You, Stella, you are my problem. You can be nice to Bella but not to me!’

‘That is so ridiculous, coming from you, Marla. I wanted to borrow an album from you. As always, it turns into World war three.’

‘Why can’t you two get along as normal sisters?’ roars Mum from the bottom of the stairs.

‘Yeah, I do because you have no respect for other people’s stuff, Stella.’

‘Go away Marla, nobody wants you in here.’

‘Ignore her, Bella. Come into my room. I need you to crimp the back of my hair.’

‘Go on creep, do as your master orders!’

‘Oh, shut up, Marla!’ sneers Bella.

‘It’s true, she treats you as her own personal slave, Bell.’

‘Whatever, big head, get out of my room and close my door behind you!’ shrieks Stella.

‘I will. I do not want to be here. It stinks of scorched hair and rancid breath!’

‘God, she is such an annoying bitch, I wish she had never been born!’

‘Stella, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it, I know you don’t.’

‘Yeah well, she drives me crazy, Bell.’

‘We are sisters, Stella. Now, Dad is no longer here. We have to stick together.’

‘Sorry, Bell. I didn’t mean to upset you. I take back what I said.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Sort of, ha.’

‘Stella!’

‘Only kidding Bell.’

‘Okay, I need you to crimp the back for me, Bell.’

‘You have such lovely hair, Stella, you are so lucky.’

‘So, do you Bell.’

‘Yes, but yours is such a lovely blond colour, Stella.’

‘Yours will be as long as mine, soon. You need to let it grow, Bell. Inform our Mam, you want to go to the hairdressers. It’s time she stopped cutting your hair. I stopped her cutting mine when I was twelve.’

‘I know, I worry I guess because I am the last one who still lets Mam cut my hair and I don’t want to upset her.’

‘Bell, take no notice of me. Do you remember the photos of us when we were younger? Do you remember the haircuts our Mam used to give us? We resembled three homeless urchins with wonky fringes. Mam is great at so many things. Haircutting is not one of them. You need your hair to be lush and long for the boys.’

‘Boys, no not me, I am happy with my life, you three and Teddy.’

‘Yes, I get that, but Teddy is a scruffy mongrel dog. You are fifteen, Bell. I had my first boy at fourteen.’

‘Bloated George Thomas ha,’ shrieks a voice from the room next door.

‘Marla, shut up and stop being so bloody nosey. He wasn’t obese, he had an illness which meant he gained weight!’

‘Less of the bloody swearing, Stella!’ scowls mum from her bedroom.

‘Jesus, these walls are paper thin,’ Stella mumbles.

‘Oh, and which illness was that. I can remember him visiting the chip shop where his Mum worked and stuffing his face!’

‘Whatever Marla, at least I have boys that want me. My male acquaintances think you are a boy.’

‘Oh, hark at you, my male acquaintances, who do you think you are, Stella the queen of bleeding Sheba?’

‘Marla, enough.’

‘Sorry, Mam.’

‘Do you think we can have a day without you two arguing?’

‘Sorry, Bell, you are an exceptional sister. I wish she had never been born,’ utters Stella with a sprinkling of sarcasm and a wry smirk.

The noise of a herd of elephants shakes the floorboards as Marla crashes through Stella’s door.

‘Yeah, can we help you, boy?’

‘One day, Stella, your hair is going to burn and fall out. I can only hope I am here to witness it.’

‘Whatever plain Jane!’

‘Never ask to borrow a record from me again, Stella. I overheard what you said. The feeling is mutual. I wish you had never been born!’

‘Whatever Marla, close my door, now!’

Marla closes Stella’s door. She hurts internally. They argue constantly; they do not particularly respect each other. This time Marla knows Stella has crossed the line. She has entered the war zone.

‘God, she winds me up, I do not know what her problem is?’

‘I wish you both loved each other, like how I love you both, Stella.’

‘I know that Bell, make sure you crimp to the end, love.’

‘What’s for breakfast, Mam?’ shouts Marla halfway across the stairs.

‘Toast Marla,’ Mum replies.!

‘Where is it?’

‘Where is what?’

‘The toast?’

‘It’s in the breadbasket, Marla, what did your last servant die of?’

‘Do we have any bacon, Mam?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where is it?’

‘On the pig on the farm, Marla. I am not made of money. Make the toast!’

‘Great, bloody toast again,’ mutters Marla, lumbering to the corner of the kitchen and fingering the cellophane wrapper.

‘I heard that, Marla.’

‘Blah blah’ she responds.

‘I don’t understand why I have to go to the house of hell. That place gives me the shits, Mam?’

‘Language Marla, we are going, and that’s that, Marla. It will be a nice day. Especially if you and Stella can give it a rest. Stop referring to your Nan's house as the house of hell.’

‘Ancient Mam, you are not kidding. Nan needs to move into a home for old people. That house needs demolishing.’

‘Belt up Marla. We are going, and that’s that. Your Nan is excited we are getting together. It has been a few months since we visited her.’

‘Yeah, I bet she is. I am not kissing her,’ Marla snaps through a mouthful of toast as she passes Bella, walking toward the kitchen.

‘Don’t speak with your mouth full, Marla!’

‘Move hair slave!’

‘Whatever Marla,’ snorts Bella, perching herself at the kitchen table and staring at her Mum.

‘Tell me Mam, this mirror, what is it?’

‘Who told you about the mirror, Bella? Today is a surprise.’

‘I overheard you and Nan talking on the phone the other day.’

‘The mirror, named the miopsa mirror, has been in the family for hundreds of years. Each generation of Medizza women apart from your aunt Maud has stood before it. Now, it is the turn of you, three girls, to stand before it.’

‘Why Mam?’

‘Everything shall be revealed, Bella. I do not want to ruin the surprise for you.’

‘Why didn’t Aunt Maud stand in front of the mirror, Mam?’

‘It’s a long story, Bella. I don’t have time to discuss it today, another day. She is a right odd one though, and that eye of hers ugh.’

‘Eye Mam, what was wrong with her eye?’

‘She had one of those wonky eyes. I always felt uneasy when I used to visit her. One eye stared at you and the other stared through you.’

‘I don’t get why she decided against facing the mirror, Mam?’

‘Aunt Maud believed the mirror to be cursed. Anybody who stood before the mirror shall carry the curse for eternity. Waiting for the day to arrive.’

‘The day, Mam?’ utters Bella, the fear in her tone prevalent.

‘The day the grim reaper pays you a visit and rips your soul from your body, Bella.’

‘Why the heck are you forcing us to look into a cursed mirror, Mam?’

‘I am pulling your leg, Bella. Maud is just a stubborn old sod. Sometimes Marla is Aunt Maud’s doppelganger. We need to get a shift on Bella.’

The same herd of elephants crashes through the kitchen door.

‘Marla, what are you wearing?’

‘I am wearing clothes, Mam, just as everybody else is.’

‘A prisoner’s outfit,’ yells Stella, flouncing her hair as she pushes past Marla and drops two slices of bread into the toaster.

‘Unlike you, Stella, I do not follow the crowd, loser lemming. I don’t go for the whole girly style!’

‘Yeah, I can recognise that. You go for the prison convict look style.’

‘Mam, these clothes are fashionable. Times have changed, everyone in the punk scene wears clothes similar to the ones I am wearing.’

‘Problem is, Marla, you are not in a band. I have listened to you warbling in the bath. The noise of a cat getting strangled.’

‘Stella, belt up, I will strangle you if you carry on being a pain!’

‘She started it, Mam.’

‘Right, both of you heed my words carefully. You are both getting on my last wick. The day you own your own house, you can carry on with this nonsense as much as you wish. While you are living under my roof, you will behave. I have enough on my plate, without listening to you two bloody bickering constantly!’

‘Sorry, Mam.’

‘Me too Mam.’

‘Thank you, let us just try our best to have a decent day.’

‘We will, Mam,’ utters Marla, hugging her Mum and beaming. The toaster snaps. Stella spreads lashings of butter.

‘I can remember back in my day ladies wore dresses for special occasions.’

‘Well, thank god we are not back in your day Mam, it’s 1984, not the Victorian times.’

‘Cheeky Sod, I will have you know, back in my day in the sixties…’

‘Here we go again,’ mutters Marla.

She stares at Stella, their faces blank of expression.

‘As I was saying, back in my day, the music was better.’

‘Women knew how to dress. I cannot tell who is a woman and who is a man anymore. That singer, the one with the brunette shoulder-length hair. I swore he was a woman, turns out I was wrong.’

‘It’s called self-expression, Mam. Freedom to be who we wish. Take our Marla, for instance, she has taken on the guise of a homeless person.’

‘Whatever Stella, don’t choke on your toast.’

‘I despair sometimes. You are both an absolute nightmare to live with.’

‘Bella, are you ready?’

‘I will be downstairs in a minute, Mam, just putting on my dress.’

‘Both of you should take a leaf out of Bella’s book. She is such a good girl. I have had no hassle with her. She is helpful around the house, makes her bed every morning, unlike you Marla.’

‘No thanks Mam, her outlook on life is not mine,’ utters Marla.

‘Ignore her Mam, I am going to get dressed,’ says Stella offering Marla an expression that could turn her to stone as she passes.

‘I don’t know what happened to you two. I don’t. You used to be so close as when you were younger, I am puzzled.’

“We grew up, Mam, that’s what happened.’

‘Is that what you call it.’

Marla stands and walks to the kitchen window, wrapping her arms around her mum.

‘Mam are you alright?’

‘I am okay, Marla. Eat your toast,’ she utters.

Marla peers into her eyes. They are damp, distant, and pained.

‘I’m sorry Mam for everything, especially Dad leaving you.’

‘You don’t have to be sorry, Marla. Your Dad left, sometimes these things happen. I am happy darling.’

‘I hope so, Mam.’

Marla squeezes her Mum as they spend a special moment together in complete harmony.

The kitchen door crashes open as Stella glides across the kitchen floor. Marla turns and sneers.

‘What do you think of my outfit, Mam. I thought I should dress nicely as we are visiting Nan?’

‘Very snazzy, Stella, I love the shoulder pads on your jumper, as do you, Marla. You both have different styles.’

‘She is a man, Mam!’

‘Stella, please, just stop. For once I want a stress-free journey. I have enough to deal with, driving this bloody old wreck!’

‘Bagsy front seat,’ insists Marla, stuffing the remaining piece of toast into her mouth and quaffing the remains of her tea.

‘Are you ready, Bella?’

‘I am ready, Mam,’ she announces, swinging the door open.

‘You are as pretty as a picture Bella; I love your dress. Make yourself toast. We leave in ten minutes. I expect each one of you to be on your best behaviour. Okay, Stella?’

‘Why single me out, Mam?’

‘Because you are a trouble causer, that’s why fat head!’

‘Be quiet, both of you, I expect both of you to be on your best behaviour.’

Mum leaves the kitchen, allowing the visual daggers to fly between Marla and Stella. Bella butters her toast and stares into the back garden. She spots a butterfly landing on the rosebush; she smiles. The battle of the sisters behind her slips away like water in a plughole. For this moment belongs to her, the sunshine, and her winged friend.

‘Okay, come on, time to go,’ says Mum, cutting through Bella’s idyllic trance and breaking up World war Medizza.

They exit the war zone into the sunlight. Marla and Stella, six paces away from each other. A walking routine mum ordered them to follow when things changed from good to horrendous.

‘Right, everybody in, Bella, you jump in the front.’

‘Why does she get the front seat Mam, she is the youngest!’

‘Because she gets travel sick Marla, that’s why.’

‘So, do I Mam.’

‘Since when Marla?’

‘Since I had to sit next to the bloody queen of Sheba for the next god knows how many hours!’

‘For god’s sake Marla, you will get the back of my bloody hand in a minute if you keep swearing and using the lord’s name in vain!’

Marla glances at her Mum, expression dumfound. She pushes past Stella and slumps onto the worn maroon leather seat in the back of the car.

Bella pulls at the mirror and smirks at Marla. In response, Marla sticks her middle finger in her sister’s eye line.

‘Mam, she just put her finger up at Bell.’

‘Mam, she just put her finger up at Bell.’

‘Can both of you stop bloody bickering? Bella is at the front seat, end of the story. You two behave, if you carry on you will walk to Nans.’

‘Mirrors, signal…’

‘Manoeuvre Mam, yes we know,’ yells Stella.

‘Haunted house on the hill, here we come,’ groans Marla.