by Marie Marshall
Revisiting a short story of mine, in which a Caribbean-British girl moves to Glasgow and joins a girl-gang. There she learns about violence, love, laughter, and death.
More than one person has suggested it would make good cinema. That has set me thinking…
All the girls call me ‘Axe’. Tough name, but nah need fe aks me why, coz of me accent, ell-oh-ell!
They’re like to me – We were gonnay give you a kicking. Two days I’ve been in Glasgow, two days! I go out to a club, and these girls come over and they’re looking mean like they mean business, right. But the music is loud and the girl who’s doing all the talking has this accent, this Scottish accent, and she’s shouting over the music, and I’m like – What? What? And she’s back to me like – What? What? And then the music stops and all you can hear is her shouting what and me shouting what, and suddenly everyone’s laughing.
So the girl who’s doing all the talking, this is her to me – Come over to our table. And I’m like – Okay, cool. So we all…
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