Mam

"Mam?" "What?" "What's a kilometre?" "Just over half a mile. Here, make yourself useful. Here's 50p. Pop over the shop and get us a bag of flour."

She'd sit by the fire, arms crossed, demanding that Ruby spike her tea with a cinder. But Ruby would never give in to her demands, no matter how much her mam begged. There was no alcohol in the house now; Arthur had made sure of that in an effort to get Mary sober.

There was another teacher […] who came to class fairly often wearing a thin silk blouse and NO BRA. Her 'mams' bounced appropriately, which was of course utterly FASCINATING for every boy in the class.

She focused her entire mind on that moment she had shared with Shan, the softness of her mams, the wetness of her lips.

Need a cwtch from Mam I do.