The Madam. Jaime Raven

new 42-inch flat-screen television. The money from the escorting has made it all so much easier. Before I started whoring we were living hand to mouth and life was a struggle. What little I received in benefits I squandered on fags, booze and drugs because it was the only way I could relieve the pressure. My choices were limited and my prospects were grim. And the longer it carried on the worse I felt about myself. But after swallowing my pride and seizing control of the situation, I’m now flush with cash and the future’s looking much brighter for Leo.

       Of course, my mother has no idea what I really do when she’s looking after Leo. She thinks I’m holding down two jobs – one in a restaurant and the other in a bar. It accounts for the odd hours I work. I hate to think how she’d react if she ever found out the truth. But as far as I’m concerned that’s never going to happen.

       As I look at my kid brother playing with Leo a great wave of sadness rolls over me. I’m reminded of what happened to him all those years ago when he came to my rescue. The damage to his brain from hitting his head on the kerb has blighted his entire life. He’s never had a girlfriend and he’ll almost certainly never have children. It’s such an awful shame.

       My mother has thankfully stopped telling me that it was my fault, but I know she still thinks it. I can see it in her eyes sometimes when she looks at me. It makes me wonder if she wishes I was the one cursed with a disability.

       ‘Well merry Christmas everyone,’ I say in order to banish the negative thoughts from my mind. ‘And let’s hope we have many, many more.’

       I get up from the sofa and walk over to my brother to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then I turn to my mother and give her a hug.

       She pats my back affectionately and says, ‘Thank God you’re getting your life together at last, Lizzie. That little boy has changed you for the better. For his sake you have to follow a righteous path from now on. No more drugs and drink. No more consorting with unreliable men. Stay on the path and all will be well.’

      I woke up with my mother’s words ringing in my ears. The memory of that Christmas Day was still vivid and I often dreamt about it. We all had such a great time and we were like a normal family again.

      I’d been full of optimism back then, and I’d even dared to hope that my mother was beginning to think I wasn’t such a wretched daughter after all.

      But, of course, I should have known better than to believe that things would turn out well for me, especially given the fact that I never did stick to that righteous path.

      I didn’t want to get out of bed. I would have been content to lie there for the rest of the day, making love to Scar and slipping in and out of sleep.

      But there were things to do. People to see. So I forced myself up and into the bathroom for another shower.

      It still felt weird to have freedom of movement. In my head I’d been conditioned to the monotonous routine of prison life. Not having to ask for permission to do things would take some getting used to.

      I wondered what it was like for lifers when they were tossed back into society after so many years inside. How the hell did they cope? Did they ever settle back into a normal rhythm? Or did they struggle to adjust until the day they died?