She sat there, quietly regarding the hordes of sticky children as they proved themselves semi-intelligent, larger versions of seaside gulls. The ‘supervising’ parents showed just where those genes came from as they loudly exclaimed how brilliant the sand-eating buggers were.

Blistering sunshine penetrated the plastic emerald umbrella which covered the shop front. Mel sipped heavily on her lemonade as condensation cascaded off its sides, and watched the rhythmic dripping of liquid onto the soft folds of her stomach.

The sharp, angry clacking noise of stillettoes reached her through the cacophony of screaming children, and towering over her was a woman drenched in pulsating, angry sunlight. Her presence seemed to frighten the children into shutting up. At least, temporarily.

Mel cracked something that was more of a grimace than a smile. “Hello, Mother. I see you’ve survived the heat down here.”

“Ugh!” The woman, who looked like a skinny praying mantis on the prowl, sat sharply. “Hardly darling, hardly,” The mantis issued in a very fake, posh accent “I’m positively frying out there. Nothing like my office-where’s the waiter? I need a coffee- now.”

Mel sighed with the same aggravation as her childhood.  Two minutes with her and things were staring to fall back into the same pattern. “I ordered for you, Mother.”

“With no-“

“Crème or sugar. I know.”

A rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ ensued from the next table, and the blast of noise prevented either from commenting furthur. In the meantime, a waitress struggled through the blaze to offer a coffee cup and a ham pizza.

The small mammals attacked an ice cream cake. Silence ensued.

Mel’s mother awkwardly sipped her coffee and examined her nail polish for imperfections. Mel gingerly lifted a slice of her pizza, glistening with melted cheese and grease.  She gently pulled away a bite and savoured the soothing taste, almost forgetting the unpleasant situation at hand.

“So…..” Mel’s mother plucked an offending particle from her skirt and banished it onto the next table. “You’re a……… journalist?” She avoided eye contact with her daughter.

Mel remembered to swallow and wipe her hands off before speaking. “Yeah. I do articles for the Sun.  Do you get that paper?”

“...No.”

“Oh. Well check it out sometime. Read some of my stuff, yeah?”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” Mel finished her slice and licked her fingers before cautiously indulging in another, mindful of her mother’s disgusted glare.

She coughed politely. “Have you…err…”Looking pained, she avoids eye contact as the cheese from Mel’s slice falls onto the plate, wincing when grease splashes form the limp triangle of Mozzarella onto the pristine white of her coat. “Joined a… gym or anything?” she sneaks a peak through freshly cut bangs and polarized sunglasses.

Mel chewed defiantly.

Undeterred, she took the lack of enthusiasm as a yes.  “Because… It’s not a bad thing. Keeps you….healthy.”

Mel swallowed. “I know mother. You were always harking on me about that when I was a kid.”

Mel’s mother ppursed her lips and made a noise in the back of her throat as she sipped her coffee. “You always said ‘No’.”

“Because I didn’t care about that stuff.”

“Because you were afraid of the gym!”

“…No.”

“Yes! You were scared of looking fat, and now you really do!” She flapped her arms wildly and a nearby seagull hoping for a piece of crust sqwuaked and fell over.

“That isn’t what I meant!”

“Well then what in God’s name did you mean?”

“I didn’t join a gym then, and I’m not joining one now. Tough luck, Mother.”

She purses her lips again and as a last stand refuses to pay for her coffee, and as she stalks away digs a boot into the ribs of a passing gull and squawks at it for getting in her way. Mel smiles.

Revenge is a greasy piece of pizza.