In Paris. Aupèring. Three young boys to be minded.
Cleaning, ironing. Her lacy pants melt and stick
to the iron; don’t have to do it anymore. The physical

contact is unexpected. Two huge arms engulf
me, one hand on my mons, the other on my
breast. Trapped. He laughs and leaves. At night,

in the tiny apartment, he comes in, puts his hands
under the covers, whispers nothing is going to happen,
he only wants to get in, lie beside me. I whisper-hiss,

non, non; think of his wife next door. Does she know?
NON. We go to Normandy, to their holiday home. Bigger.
Safer. Her, me and the boys. Not long till he’s back.

A couple with him. I know I’m in trouble when his friend
does the same thing the next day. Freeze to tiny-boned bird.
Back in Paris dozens of messages, in English, on their answering

machine. My father, telling me again and again that I failed
my exams and must come home. He left me alone until I left.
At the end they said I had the beginnings of a Parisian accent.

First published in The Rail, 13 February 2022.

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Alison Hackett was born in Cork, Ireland, in 1961. She is the founder of the publishing house 21st Century Renaissance bringing to her work the belief that the right blend of design and writing can influence change and raise debate across a wide section of society. Her focus is on high quality print publications created and produced in Ireland when possible. A growing number of authors and illustrators are being published by 21CR.