Flash: Little Monsters

I am disturbed from my reverie by the angry whine of what must be a mobile phone. The owner is a woman wheeling a double pushchair. The cover is pulled down so the babies must be asleep, because it’s not raining. The woman pauses at the bus stop where I am waiting and reaches into her Cath Kidston bag to answer the insistent screech. She is one of those understated mummy types, all clear nail varnish, beige jumper and UGG boots. 

‘Yes, they’re fine,’ she hisses into her mobile. ‘It’s not stupid; I wanted them to get some fresh air.’

My eyes slide back to the covered pushchair and I wonder how much air is getting in behind that cover. Then I hear an inhuman cackle come from the chair.

‘I’ve got to go, I’ll call you back,’ the woman says. As she throws the mobile back into her bag a reptilian tail flicks out the side of the pushchair and the whole contraption starts to shake. The woman meets my gaze and there is a moment of horror in her eyes; she knows I know. Then she flicks back into role.

‘They’re a real handful,’ she says to me loudly, ‘quite beastly!’ she laughs and heads on up the high street.