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"Mum, it’s Jade, I’m up here." I didn’t want her to think I was a burglar; maybe I should have phoned first.

Any loving mother would have run up the stairs and hugged her long-lost daughter, but not my mother. I timed her. It took her a full ten minutes before she came up. I heard the familiar tinkle of ice being dropped into glass and the cabinet door being shut. Dutch courage, I wished I had some.

"Well look what the cat’s dragged in, decided to come home have you?"

She was leaning against the doorframe; glass in right hand, cigarette in her left. She looked a sight. Her hair needed cutting and dying, and I hate to think how long she’d been wearing the same clothes. She looked thin and haggard; she’d really let herself go. I turned away from her, unable to look at her in that state.

"I’ve just come to pack, then I’m leaving. Is it okay if I stay the night?" I asked, pretending to be too busy packing to look at her.

She didn’t answer me, her stare burnt into my back, making me feel uncomfortable. I knew she was going to start, better get this over with I decided.

I stopped what I was doing and turned, facing her defiantly. I wasn’t scared of her any more. I wasn’t the weak, timid girl I once was.

"Go on say it," I challenged her, "get it out of your system mum."

"Have you seen yourself lately, look at the state of yourself, you look like a cheap street tramp." I kept my cool.

"You’re a fine one to talk, you’re a fucking mess." She stared at me, shocked by my bravery and language.

"How dare you speak to me like that, I’m your mother I deserve more respect." I lost it then.

"You’re not fit to be a mother, you’ve no idea how to look after yourself let alone a child. You should be giving me respect, do you know who I am mum?" I was tempted to tell her everything. However, I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut. "For the first time in my life I’m somebody, I’m happy, and I have a life, no thanks to you. I have a great boyfriend and loads of friends. So if anyone deserves respect I do."

She looked livid and I thought she was going to pounce on me, which would have been a big mistake on her part. Even though she was my mother, I’d gladly take her down a peg or too. "I think you better get out of here before I lose my temper," I warned.

"Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, this is my house, no one tells me what to do in my own house."

She was shouting and spilling her drink on the floor. I couldn’t help but laugh.

"Calm down mum, go and get another drink before you have a heart attack." She didn’t find that amusing and came charging at me.

"You little bitch, I’ll teach you not to talk to your mother like that."

I stood my ground and pushed her savagely away, she fell drunkenly to the floor. If she wanted a fight she would get one. She sat drunkenly on the floor glaring at me, deciding what to do next. Luckily for her she picked the right decision. She picked herself up, dusted herself off, and looked at me once more before turning around. "You’ve got ten minutes to get out of my house, then I’m calling the police."

That was fine with me; I’d packed what I wanted. I watched her walk unsteadily down the stairs, feeling nothing but pity for her. I sat on the bed dazed; I hadn’t wanted that to happen. I stayed on the bed silent, for another five minutes before I made a move to get up. I felt drained of energy and upset with the situation.

I walked down the stairs with my suitcases and sat them down near the front door. Mum was sitting in her armchair staring blankly out of the front window, another full drink in her hand. I didn’t blame her. I needed one right then.

"Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave like this. I want you to know I’m happy and doing well, take care, and tell dad I love him." She didn’t answer me. I walked out of the house for the last time, crying.