I poke the remote at the telly, hitting the power button forcefully ‘til that thick Trumpette Judith Collins disappears. Used to be that politics required a degree of cunning, ‘til the Russians figured out they could pay dissidents in Adidas sportswear to rewrite the results.

Matt used to call me that, before I helped him understand he was better off without me. Or the house. Cunning. The way I see it, there’s an elegant emotional mathematics to it, clever multiplied by duplicitous.

I always let my ego trip me up though. Too happy to crow about how I got one over someone, instead of keeping quiet enough to realise the benefits of my manipulations.

I wised up though, now I’m all about influence. That’s a cleaner kind of power. No forensics. No DNA. It started with the tarot readings. Fascinating how far some fools will go to have you tell them what to do. Then pay you for the privilege. All they need is a little push, and pretty soon I’m choreographing the whole damn neighbourhood.

Whoops, there’s the front gate. Delilah’s home. She’s a good girl, if easily manipulated. Of course I’m pushing her in good ways. Taught her to draw in colours. Blue for those you love the best, red for those you want to be your friend. Green for those you can’t trust. The bad-feeling ones. Each fridge picture is now a coded journal. 

“Draw Mum a picture of school pickups love, all those other Mums. What colour is Mrs Petrie?” 
Mrs Petrie forest green, filthy forest green.

Uh oh. Young Miss is wearing a frown. Dumping her bag to the ground. 

“No picture today angel?”

“I showed Mrs Clugh my homework. She laughed at it, said she didn’t know why I used all my colours. I chucked it out. I don’t want to draw all the thoughts, it’s dumb.“

“Oh love, I’ve told you, Mrs Clugh is sad because her husband is on the verge of leaving her. Don’t you pay her no mind.“

“Are you mad at her Mama?”

“Not mad baby, I just feel sorry for her. You go put your bag in your room. I’m going to have a wee chat to Peggy Clugh, maybe I’ll give her a free reading. Help a sister out, right De-de?”

“Sure Mama.”