Prompt by XTSCX - thank you! And please keep the reviews coming!

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Shopping

The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her. ~Marcelene Cox

Mommy was home early enough to collect her from school. Olivia knew what that meant. It meant they'd be going to the store. It was always the same on nights where mommy collected her. Not that they happened very often.

It went like this. Mommy would arrive at school late. She always did, even though she knew what time school let out. That was always the first sign that Olivia was being picked up by her mommy and not a sitter. She knew it, and her teacher Mrs Adams knew it too. At the beginning of the school year Mrs Adams had tried to call her mommy, but now they both just sat and waited, and Mrs Adams would read her a story, because they knew she'd show up eventually.

Then she'd arrive and she'd say she was really sorry for being late, then she'd look at Mrs Adams and say something about her students keeping her after her lectures to ask questions. Olivia knew that lectures were lessons for big people, and that what her mommy was saying was an 'excuse'. The big people couldn't really need to ask that many questions, her mommy just didn't want to spend time with her. She never did. Olivia didn't think her mommy liked her very much. She'd said that to Mrs Adams once and Mrs Adams had said that it couldn't possibly be true but Olivia could see that the words coming from her mouth were not the same ones her eyes were saying and she thought Mrs Adams didn't think her mommy liked her much either.

After the apologising and the excuses they would say goodbye to Mrs Adams and go and get in the car. Then they'd drive to the store and get out of the car and go inside and mommy would always buy the exact same things.

"A bottle of Jack Daniels and a packet of luckies please?"

Olivia had tried to buy a bottle of Jack Daniels and a packet of luckies when she was playing in the pretend shop in her classroom but Alice Reynolds asked Mrs Adams what they were and then Mrs Adams had a little talk with Olivia and said it wasn't really appropriate for her to be buying alcohol and cigarettes because she was only five.

Anyway, this day was like all the other days, until they got into the store then Olivia slipped away while her mommy was waiting at the counter and ran quickly to where the soap and shampoos and things like that were kept. She walked along the shelves and eventually she found what she was looking for and stood on tiptoes to reach it.

She'd just got her hands on it when she heard her mommy's voice behind her sounding annoyed.

"Olivia! What are you doing?"

She grasped the bottle of liquid soap. It was pink and had pictures of bubbles with smiley faces on the front. Olivia didn't really like pink things very much but their apartment had a pink bathroom so she knew her mommy would like it. Everything had to match in their apartment.

"Can I buy this?" she asked her mommy hopefully before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handful of coins, "I brought these from my piggy bank."

Mommy looked at her, a puzzled expression on her face, "Olivia, we have soap at home."

"But it's a bar." she explained, talking quickly, wanting to make her mommy understand, "Its hard to wash myself with a bar, and Mrs Adams said it would be easier with liquid soap."

Her mommy's eyes narrowed which Olivia knew meant she was cross. She was worried that she was cross with her but when she spoke again she discovered she was actually angry with someone else.

"And what business is it of Mrs Adams what kind of soap we have? What exactly does it have to do with her?"

Olivia bit her lip, wishing she hadn't said anything. She didn't want to get Mrs Adams into trouble, and now mommy would probably make a big fuss and Mrs Adams would be cross with Olivia and it would all be horrible!

"OLIVIA!" Mommy snapped, looking at her angrily, "What has Mrs Adams been saying to you?" Her voice was getting louder and louder and people were starting to look at them which Olivia didn't like so even though she didn't want to tell her mommy she knew she had to, just to make her be quiet.

"She was showing me how to wash myself. How to make myself properly clean." She said it really quietly, hoping no one else but her mommy would hear. She didn't want them to think she was dirty, it had been bad enough when Mrs Adams had talked to her about it, because even though she was really nice, Olivia had still felt embarrassed.

Her mommy snatched the bottle from her hands, "Fine." she said, walking towards the counter again, "But I think I need to have a word with Mrs Adams, don't you?"

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Serena was furious. She didn't know what her daughters interfering busybody of a teacher was playing at but whatever it was it was highly inappropriate. Teaching a 5 year old how to wash herself? Olivia was completely capable of washing herself and had been for some time. She was bright, independent, and more than capable of looking after herself. Serena had always admired that in her, and been grateful for it too. It made her life a lot easier.

She turned the car around, looking at her daughter sat beside her, clutching the bottle of soap and looking like she could quite easily burst into tears at any moment. Serena doubted she would though, it wasn't generally her style, something else she was grateful for. On the odd occasion Olivia did whine and cry it pissed her off chronically.

They arrived at the school soon afterwards and she marched down the corridor with her daughter in tow, planning what she was going to say to the old witch. When she reached the classroom she left Olivia outside, with strict instructions not to go anywhere and barged her way in.

The woman was sat at her desk, but looked up when she entered, smiling thinly. Serena had the distinct impression that her daughter's teacher had taken against her for some reason, although she had no idea why, and she suspected that this was all part of it, and if it was, it was going to stop immediately. She wasn't having her daughter dragged into whatever problem the teacher had with her.

"Olivia tells me you've been teaching her how to wash? Since when is that on the curriculum.

The teacher said nothing to begin with, then sighed, then glanced over at the door then finally deemed to come up with an answer, "Since, Ms Benson, one of my colleagues overheard a girl in the playground asking your daughter why she smells."

Serena felt another surge on anger rip through her, "If my daughter is being bullied, why is she the one being persecuted?"

The teacher laughed slightly, "Ms Benson no one's persecuting Olivia. I took her to one side, where no one could hear me and had a little chat about personal hygiene. Olivia seemed very grateful. She seems to enjoy spending time with adults on a one to one basis."

Serena wasn't sure what annoyed her the most. The insinuation that her daughter needed hygiene advice, or that she needed adult attention, which was no doubt a dig about her being a working single mother. The woman was a patronising bitch who probably didn't even have children of her own, so who was she to cast judgement on someone that did.

"My daughter," she snapped, "is a perfectly well adjusted child, who is always clean and neat and tidy." Even as she said it she did wonder slightly whether it was completely true. After all, she was usually at work by the time Olivia got up in the mornings and it was so hard to find a competent sitter. Perhaps they were sending her into school looking less than perfect and that was why she was copping all the attitude from the teacher now.

"Your daughter," the other woman said, confirming her suspicions, "turns up at school most days looking unkempt and unclean. And its not just the staff here who have noticed it. The children are starting to ask questions too. I was trying to protect Olivia, Ms Benson, not hurt her. I just suggested she give herself a really good scrub and made her a chart so she knows when to wash her hair."

Even though she was angry, Serena couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty at not trying harder to find a decent sitter. She'd thought the current one was alright but evidently not. Still, the guilt took a backseat to anger again when she heard the teacher's final insult.

"These are things a mother should be doing Ms Benson."

Serena exploded.

"This mother is doing all she can. I feed my daughter, I clothe my daughter, I keep a roof over her head, and see she's well educated, and you're taking the moral high ground with me because occasionally her hair isn't clean?"

The teacher sighed, "Ms Benson, I don't want to argue with you. I just feel that Olivia needs a little less material love and more hands on input from you. If you're struggling to cope there are people who can help."

Serena was instantly on her guard at those words. The last thing she needed was the teacher trying to get do-gooders involved. She and Olivia managed very well. They didn't need anyone else.

Well apart from a competent sitter.

"We're fine. Thank you very much." Somehow the words seemed weak on their own, and so she decided to add a little something else with which to back them up, "And in case you were thinking of telling anyone anything to the contrary, can I remind you that I sit on the School Board, and have made sizeable financial donations, so really, I don't think you want to rock the boat do you?"

"Are you threatening me?" The teacher asked shakily, so shakily in fact that Serena could tell she really had her rattled.

She smiled, "Not threatening you, no. Just pointing out that you should be careful who you criticise in future. Now, I intend to find a new sitter for Olivia, but if you have any further issues with my daughter, I'd be grateful if you'd discuss them with myself, rather than her."

She turned and made to leave, since as far as she was concerned the conversation was over, but as she reached the door the teacher spoke again.

"I tried to call you Ms Benson. I wanted to discuss it with you before I approached Olivia because I thought you might like to do it yourself. I left five messages on your answer phone, but didn't hear back from you. So now I'm just pointing out that you might like to return my calls in future. It might save us from having any more meetings like this one."

Serena laughed, unable to believe the cheek of the sanctimonious bitch, then she took Olivia by the hand and led her down the corridor,

"Come on Olivia. Lets go home…"