Reba was a wonderful mother. After her husband died she had raised her five children with her limited resources and some help from her sister and brother-in-law who were childless. When the youngest child was nine years old she saw her mother murdered. Three men raped and murdered her mother. All three of the men were prominent citizens. One of them was even the sheriff. When they realized the woman was dead the men sobered up. They agreed it had been an accident- an unfortunate accident. The woman shouldn’t have had her dress up showing her white little ass as she urinated there in the woods where she had been picking blackberries. They became concerned with trying to protect themselves and their families. When they found out the little girl had seen them they became obsessed with trying to stay out of her sight. The child ran into each of the men. Each time she identified one of the men as her mother’s murderer she was told she was wrong. The men were family men. They were prominent citizens. The uncle and aunt took the children to raise. After the child kept insisting she had identified the men correctly the uncle got a detective to investigate the case. The detective was murdered. The death was investigated by the sheriff and declared an accident. The child entered her teens and her mother’s death had still not been avenged. The system had let her down. She felt unbearable guilt that she hadn’t somehow been able to stop her mother from being murdered. When she was fifteen years old she began taking the punishment of her mother’s murderers into her own hands. Over several years the three men died. Each time she was present. After the death of the last man she collapsed mentally. The aunt and uncle realized she had been responsible for the deaths of her mother’s murderers. The girl had fallen in love with one of the men’s sons. It was never to be. The girl’s mind became that of the child she used to be. The aunt and uncle lived life day by day hoping she would never regain the horror of the memories that lay buried in her mind.
It began in the warm darkness before birth. The fetus flinched and curled and fought against the fists that beat at it, daily- the fists of its mother who tried to beat it out of existence so she could deny it, so she could cover her own shame, humiliation and abandonment, her own mistake. The horses her mother rode jogging her fetus furiously, sourrounded by wild agitation. The damage from the turpentine ingestion that was of the emryotic fluid in which she swam that was supposed to abort her and she wondered what else she endured for she had no names to fit the crimes. The crime of attempted murder before she was born. And born she was! 4 1/2 pounds with a twisted left foot and refusing mother's milk, unable to hold down a formula, losing weight. Once there, there could be no denying her. Her baby picture was cute, she was bunkled in knitted fluff, a copy was sent to him, the seed donner. He still didn't want her. Her picture was an offering, a save face offering. How much rejection could she endure. The cost was great, the circuit was endless. No one was the survivor. She was named Roberta he was Robert. Roberta wanted a what was hers. She wanted what she was denied. Her name, her birthday and him. She wanted to wipe away the rejection and she wanted the love she was due. She was willing to buy it with her soul, he paid for it with his. Her mother couldn't face the ultimate deception. No one won.
The Home Front in Britain explores the British Home Front in the last 100 years since the outbreak of WW1. Case studies critically analyse the meaning and images of the British home and family in times war, challenging prevalent myths of how working and domestic life was shifted by national conflict.
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