Hickory,dickory,dock

Hickory,dickory,dock

Hickory, Dickory, Dock,
The mouse ran up her sock
The clock struck eight,
For Mary's hate
Hickory, Dickory, Dock,

The sisters never had been close, even when they were little, all they
ever seemed to do
was fight. Charlotte and Mary were as different as day and night.

Charlotte who hated to be called Charlie, and only tolerated it when
her husband panted it
out to her, through the course of lovemaking, was the more successful
of the two women.
She was the one with the fancy house complete with picket fence, the
successful career as
one of the towns most noteworthy solicitors, the two point four,
brighter than average
children, and the designer suits. Not to mention of course the suave,
ruggedly handsome,
very clean and athletic, upwardly mobile husband.

Mary however was the one with the fire and ice, she was creative
unfettered and above
all else free. She had the talent to be a very impressive artist, but
none of the hunger to
make it work. She traveled the world, smoking pot, the epitomy of
hippie life and making
her living by doing pavement drawings, and cheap pencil
portraits.

Both women were dark and good looking, though each in a very different
way.
Charlotte was elegant with her sharp clothes, and Sassoon hair. Mary
was slender with
wild tousled black hair and the look of a gypsy, She liked to be
barefoot, and wore loose
fitting Indian cotton of brilliant colour.

Charlotte was calm and serene, believing in talking calmly and
rationally, in a
condescending self righteous manner. Mary was free with her speech
unpredictable of
temperament, and once crossed made an adversary that would make Attilla
the Hun
squirm.

Mary had landed in town three months earlier, down on her luck, with
nowhere to stay
and nursing an, if not broken, then badly bruised heart, due to the
complete and utter
annihilation of yet another free love hippie affair.

Charlotte had been against taking her in, but Mary had done the
desperate waif act, and
turned her large doe like, tear filled eyes to Geoff, and he as
expected had become a
compliant mushball under her expert manipulation. Mary had smirked
slyly as she listened
to the harsh sibilant whispers seeping through from the kitchen where
they had retired to
discuss the situation. "The first incision has been made" she had
thought, pleased with
herself.

From that day on, life had been strained in the Granger household.
Geoff taught Mary to
play Backgammon, and they would sit for hours of an evening in
companionable warfare.
Charlotte was excluded. Mary did Geoff's portrait in oil on expensive
canvas, all
materials supplied by the Granger joint account. Charlotte was
excluded. Mary took up
jogging, and joined Geoff on his morning runs. Charlotte was
excluded.

Then today Charlotte had come home to see a neatly packed suitcase,
and a tatty old
holdall, they were leaving: Charlotte was excluded.

The children were still at school, and an almighty row broke out.
Geoff who had always
been weak and a coward, had stormed out of the house, leaving the
sisters to fight it out.

"Why Mary. Why? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you taking my
husband. Do
you love him?"

Mary threw back her curly hair and laughed, a cruel, hard empty laugh.
"You think I could
possibly want HIM" she spat "Darling he's not even good in bed ...Your
bed by the way"
The retort stung like a slap in the face. "Then why Mary? I don't
understand"

Mary walked round the lounge picking up and putting down the various
expensive
ornaments, trailing her finger across the antique Ormolu chest, mocking
her sister with
her obvious distaste and disapproval of the trappings of upper class
living. Her voice was
heavy with sarcasm and loathing as after what seemed like an age she
replied " Because
sister. Dear sister, I have bided my time for years, waited, and
watched, until you had so
many lovely things to loose. And such a lovely husband too" She smirked
with derision."
I've waited until the perfect time to distroy you"

Charlotte recoiled from the venom in her sisters voice, and the hatred
in her cold gaze "
Mary ...What have I EVER done to you?, Please tell me what have I done
that could
make you hate me so much."

Mary's eyes burned with intensity, and the callous mockery was
replaced by an
unconcealed seething white hot anger "You know what you did to me. You
spiteful bitch.
well I have stored my spite for twenty five long years, and now it's
payback time my Rich
Bitch sister. You were so jealous of me when David Preston, asked me to
go to the village
dance with him, you remained jealous for the entire month I was seeing
him. You HAD to
have him for yourself didn't you?"

Charlotte couldn't believe what she was hearing "Mary; we were TWELVE
years old,
how can you possibly equate that silly childish prank, with sealing ten
years of marriage
from me. This is insane. I am truly sorry, I put that mouse down your
back, in the
Playroom. I'm truly sorry you wet yourself with fear. I'm truly sorry I
took your little
friend away from you. But for Christ sake Mary it was Twenty Five years
ago!"

Charlotte was still trying to reason with Mary, when her sister calmly
picked up her
holdall and went to meet Geoff, who was waiting in the car.

Mary smiled in triumph as the car pulled away. Revenge was beginning
to smell sweet,
but this was only the beginning, of her sisters torment. Mary thought
of the carving knife
in her holdall, the one with Charlottes fingerprints on it. She smiled
sweetly at Geoff, and
touched his neck lightly, it was just about where she'd make the first
incision. As the car
gathered speed Mary, softly chanted ...Hickory. Dickory. Dock.