[DeletedAccount53]

Thank you, Sarah. Yes it was a mess, but the most hurtful of all was maman treating us with a contempt we never deserved. She never stopped criticising us. We couldn't understand why because we weren't ravers, coming home in the early hours of the morning from clubbing, like some we know. But we were never lurked in those dark elite clubs our contemporaries hung out in, only because we disliked the atmosphere. And I've nothing against those who flash the cash and guzzle champagne like culverts, because each night we were quiet for her.

Tommy went to bed early after dinner, whereas maman would stay up all hours. We never knew her to cook, or offer even when Julie was ill. Her bedroom had clothes strewn everywhere - unlike ours. So we kept to ourselves and stayed out of her way because it was the least confrontational and anyway, I hated seeing Julie upset. I always sensed she was, even if I was out in town, and when I phoned her and she said maman's been moaning, I'd come home straightaway.

Julie and I asked maman's sisters if there was anything wrong, but were met with silence. They were talkative enough, but said nothing when we made a point of asking. Simply, we just didn't know. Had we, then collectively we would have helped in any way we could. But our everyday experiences with her were unsettling, potentially stormy as if anything would set her off.

Maman never gave an allowance to our little sis. That was paid by us. Clothes and toiletries, anything she asked for. I gave Tommy 100 eur for spending on anything she really needed, but nothing was offered from our maman. Strange, eh? Real mean, too. The only clothes she gave were ones she'd worn on the runway, or 'catwalk' as it's known in the fashion side of haute couture. All her hand-me-downs were beautiful, way out of our price range. I know the leather jackets were embarrassingly expensive, like Alaïa's leather jackets and winter gear featured in Vogue which maman wore only once.

In the end, she went. A hastily scrawled note left on the table. An envelope of banknotes, more than we'd ever need in 6 months. And that was the last we heard from her. A total freaking mess. And the casualties were us.

Before maman left, she took her jar of creamer. Too bad Tommy mixed in packets of fart powder. We'd have loved to have watched her coffee experience.