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Additional resources for The Wolf Man and Sigmund Freud
Maybe she was going to have an abortion and her sister or her conscience talked her out of it. Maybe her lover did. Maybe she believed he would leave his wife and his ‘empty-shell’ marriage, as I was later told it was, and come over to take care of her and her baby in London. Or maybe she was going to have me no matter what. Fate made the decision for them in the end. A telegram arrived, two weeks before I was due to be born. It was from her father. And it ruined everything. Her mother had suffered a serious stroke and the outlook wasn’t good.
I tried to do everything right and to sit still, and at the end I think we ‘passed’ because he shook Mummy’s hand when he left and patted me on the head. After he’d gone Mummy looked tired and smoked a lot. I swivelled my eyes over to the biscuits still on the plate. ‘Looking down his nose at us,’ she sniffed. ’ Mummy looked sad and I felt shivery, wondering if it was anything to do with me. In my head I saw the man’s buckteeth again and looked at the hard cream sandwiched between the biscuits.
Pretending to feel nothing. Huddling around Mummy after one of the worst fights one night, the TV screen kicked in and glass all over the purple carpet, we planned how we’d get rid of him: a drop of arsenic in his vodka, a sprinkling of rat poison in his stew, a pillow over his face while he slept, or his skull smashed in with one of the girls’ heavy, brass lion money-boxes that stood empty either side of the fire surround. We passed one around solemnly, lifting it above our heads, bouncing it up and down on our small, clammy palms, coldly assessing its effectiveness as we demonstrated our love to Mummy through what we were prepared to do.