Liddy's lot. | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Liddy's lot. | Previous Challenge Entry
By Danielle King
01/21/15
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Lydia Grace’s curious affliction sparked a covert collusion of containment within the family.

It began during WW2 when she served in the WAAF, packing parachutes. Home on leave, she took to her bed and refused to surface from under the blankets, fearful of the enemy who, reportedly, were firing darts through her bedroom window.

Medical diagnosis: Acting like big baby. Treatment regime: Ignore.

So they did.

Liddy was a fine looking young woman, inheriting the family’s desirable physical attributes, leaving the less enviable equally shared amongst her sisters.

Liddy drew men like a hook pulls a fish, yet remained blissfully unaware. The sibling’s legacy on the death of both parents was clearly stated.

Watch out for Liddy.

So they did.

The siblings married and started families. In post-war Britain food was rationed and money was tight. Wives did not go out to work. But Liddy did. Liddy was rarely unemployed for long. And neither was she employed for long. Every opportunity turned sour.

Liddy had an innate aesthetic flair. She saw splendour in the natural world; a wayside dandelion could become surreally magnificent with a few strokes of her paintbrush.

But people, somehow she did not gel well.

Until one day, by chance she happened by a new church… the old one being full of sinners…

Something struck a chord with an almighty ping! Liddy had got religion. Such a voracious and ferocious appetite had she, for all things Godly, it was feared that her sanity was in question.

She preached; full on, to her weary siblings and their own resigned offspring, lambasting the senses with charges of self-righteousness judgement and licentious, indulgent greed. Fire would rain down upon each evil head if they chose to continue in their despicable ways.

And all this as she devoured generous hospitality at their dinner tables.

The day they called the doctor was a sad one. Guilt lay heavily on their hearts, not conviction of sin, but a deep sense of failure, betrayal of a sister they loved.

Liddy was eventually discharged from hospital with a bucketful of medication and notoriety for chanting in an unfamiliar language.

Before long the challenge of living amongst the heathens disturbed her equilibrium. By now the family had organised and furnished a small apartment within the care remit of social services.

And then, something strange happened.

Liddy’s belly began to grow. So much so that it was suggested she may be in the late stages of an undiagnosed illness. She flatly refused to visit the doctor, but revealed previously undisclosed information.

The harlot living in the flat above was sprinkling Humpty Dumpty powder from her open window as Liddy took out the waste.

This needed to be investigated as Liddy was becoming too rotund to waddle.

The 89 year old, ‘lady of ill repute’ upstairs was delighted to have a visitor and popped in her top denture and hearing aid so she could have a nice little chat.

The cause of the odious malady became clear when it was revealed that every bin in the block was being exploited by Liddy’s food wrappings.

A binge of humongous proportions on a daily basis tends to increase the waistline. Echoes of Mother’s observations could be discerned, ‘Our Liddy can eat two potatoes more than a pig!’

Intemperance… Liddy was a woman of excesses. She did nothing in moderation.

In her final years Liddy nurtured ‘a gift.’ She was able to communicate by ‘thought power.’ Whilst most people preferred a telephone line, Liddy’s amazing cordless conversations reached dizzy heights. Her long deceased mother wanted her home. She was told to pack and wait by the door.

In characteristic over-the-top mode, she packed the entire contents of her home into black refuse sacks, and waited… and waited…

After months of refusing help, it was the Mental Health Team, armed with compulsory detention documents who arrived. Sadly she never returned home.

My aunt Liddy was a colourful character in life. After her death I dug the ashes into our rose-bed. She’d like being there. It became a thorny issue as I left them inside the casket. It was too pretty to discard. Now we can’t move house.

Dear aunt Liddy. I used to wonder whether her faith was sincere or simply the product of a sick mind. On reflection, I believe her heart was with God. She lost her way, that’s all.

Now my roses throw out the biggest blooms ever. And only Humpty Dumpty and me know why.

*WAAF – Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.

*My story - Strange, but true.

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