My mum always did have smelly feet. Being a single mum, she worked hard to support me, working two jobs that required her to stand quite often. Whenev...er she came back home the first thing she'd do is take a quick shower, no doubt to get rid of the nasty, sweaty stink. I took out a pair of shoes that I knew were smelly, but not too smelly, as she didn't wear them the most often. They were a casual pair of dark blue converse trainers that she sometimes wore about the house, or to go out for. “Too bad. It’s like I had to do with myself last time. Go wank yourself, you selfish twat.”Why did I have so say something that nasty? What ugly part of myself was I revealing with that? I had launched a grenade into a minefield, just to see the explosions. These were indeed impressive.She stood up, “You little fucking asshole, you’re finally getting your revenge.”“It’s not really revenge.” I was shocked by how fast I was losing my nerve.Now she was loud, very loud, “If you are getting out of. Richards was the first to call. A bit of background about her is in order, she was in her late forties and had been a widow for the last five years. She was full figured woman with dyed blonde hair but was stinking rich, her only son had married and moved to another state with his job but she refused to leave her house. She wanted both her yard and house kept up, her last cleaner left because it was too much work for one person.The four of them saw her the next morning, playing truant that day,. My family had been here for generations, my island house sat on a land grant issued to the Von Scouries' more than two hundred and ninety years ago. Every local knew my family, our history, and even though I now spent nine months a year on the mainland, they all regarded me as one of them.My name is James Roderick Von Scourie and I had been born here sixty-three years ago, in the same house I came home to every summer, a house built on the foundations that my great, great, great, great, great.