Mandy knew in the depths of her heart that if she dwelt upon the present, the rainstorm brewing behind her closed eyes would flow out. The agony of th... present, contrasted with the ecstasy of the past would eventually need to be resolved. Sorrow would eventually win. Tears would flow.She tried to bring back the strongest and happiest moments with her lover. Her partner in life. The father of the one in her belly. The magnificently wonderful husband of hers. Bob.But to no avail.She knew the time. She was wearing a cream silk shirt (with cufflinks for heaven’s sake) and very tight leather trousers and shiny brown shoes. Those of you who have followed my chronicles will know that that combination has a dampening effect on yours truly. According to the delectable Ms. Wigram, who referred to herself as the ‘bitter heiress’ (bitter being a type of British beer) I had been ‘bloody marvellous’ in all the plays she’d seen and had especially asked to meet me. Clutton had been only too pleased to. Nothing much happened for a while after that. Looks were exchanged and, whenever she caught me staring, she would smile a wry and knowing smile that only made her that much sexier in my eyes.Fast forward 4 years and I'm 18 and sitting here in Susan's house on the pretext of house sitting. She's been out at a wedding. My mum is away on holiday and Susan's k**s are with their father. There have been a lot of burglaries in our area recently and when I suggested house sitting for the night Susan. I’d felt like a slave at a market and in a way I found that incredibly liberating. It was liberating because relinquishing control – I fully intended to do exactly as Gina asked – meant that no longer was the the stress of making decisions, no more agonising over errors of judgment as I had done in the past. Everything was now simple: I lived to make Gina happy, her gratification was my gratification. Liberation. A strange word. Hard to define till you realise that it’s not so much a word or a.
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