Ascension
        =========



As Sally skipped home from school she held in her hand a little 
daisy she'd picked from the grass verge by the roadside, and 
plucked off one petal after another while thinking about Sheila, 
her best friend at school. 

"She loves me," she said with a smile, tweaking off one petal.

"She loves me not," she said with a frown, removing another 
petal.

But at last. Only one petal left. "She loves me!" Sally said with 
relief. Sheila loved her. Hooray! If only Sally had the courage 
to tell her that she loved her. That she loved Sheila more than 
anyone else in the world. They might both be girls and so it 
probably wasn't proper love she felt towards Sheila, but it was 
love enough for that. And a love that never really left her, 
whatever she was doing and wherever she was. Perhaps 
tomorrow she would tell Sheila of her love. And that she would 
love her forever and forever. That would be so beautiful, Sally 
was sure, although her conception of what 'forever' meant was 
extraordinarily short term.

She could see home looming up ahead. A moderately large 
four-bedroomed detached house in a very pleasant suburban 
crescent lined by leafy trees. Each house was enclosed by a tall 
hedge with at least one car on every drive. Sally's heart fell 
slightly as she wondered what her mother might be up to. She 
had got so very odd recently. And although she dearly loved 
her mother, she was also increasingly frightened by her. She 
hoped her mother would be just sitting in the living room, 
perhaps watching one of those afternoon soap operas or 
reading a magazine. 

Sally pushed open the wicket gate to the drive and strolled up 
to the front door. She pushed against it. It was on the latch, so 
she knew her mother was in and not visiting one of the 
neighbours. As she wandered into the hallway, past the huge 
adult-height mirror and the Constable reproduction, she could 
hear gasping, grunting noises that confirmed Sally's fears. Her 
mother was not only at home and acting in that extraordinary 
way she did these days, she was doing so in the company of 
some friends or neighbours. 

Sally entered the kitchen. Perhaps she could fix herself a 
sandwich or a cereal or something. One thing she knew for 
sure was that Mummy wasn't going to do it for her. Sally had 
learnt that when she first discovered that some things took 
higher priority for her mother than keeping her children fed and 
watered. But she found when she wandered in, her eyes 
focused on the fridge just by the work unit, that one of 
Mummy's friends was already there. She was also one of the 
neighbours: Mrs Kunson, from two doors down at Number 42. 
The woman was about the same age as her mother and had 
just one daughter. That was Cynthia, a pretty girl with long 
curly blonde hair, - but not nearly as pretty as Sheila, - who 
was skipping school a lot more often recently and whom Sally 
had once seen crying in the Chemistry lab. And when Sally saw 
Mrs Kunson, she was no longer in any doubt as to what 
Mummy was doing. The grunting sounds she'd heard weren't 
because Mummy had retrieved those weights that were still 
lying around in the garage and had taken up exercising with 
them again.

"Hello, Sally dear," Mrs Kunson said with a broad grin. "I 
didn't hear you come in."

Sally almost answered by asking how could she with all the 
noise coming from upstairs, but she didn't. "Hello, Mrs Kunson. 
How are you?"

"Call me Cathy dear. Did you have a good day at school?"

Sally nodded, but it was difficult really to focus on the question. 
And this was because Mrs Kunson was totally naked, one 
hand holding a lit cigarette and the other a tumbler in which 
there was some clear amber liquid which was probably 
Daddy's whiskey mixed with water. And Mrs Kunson wasn't 
just naked, which Sally found off-putting enough in a woman in 
her mid-thirties: her enormous pendulous breasts more an 
affront than a potential source of comfort. Like Mummy she 
had shaven clean her vulva, which was now somehow even 
more naked than a bare crotch should be. And from wherever 
Sally stood in the kitchen she could see that shaven groin, the 
labia falling out onto the brown leather of the stool on which 
she sat and opened ever so slightly so that Sally could catch a 
glimpse of its fleshy fig-like interior.

"Cyn goes to the same school as you, doesn't she? You know 
Cynthia, don't you? Is she a friend of yours?"

Sally hesitated a bit. She wanted to open the fridge. Get 
something to eat in her room. She'd prepare a cereal. Perhaps 
Coco Pops or maybe Frosties. And then butter up some 
bread. Smother it in either peanut butter or chocolate spread. 
But she didn't want to be impolite to Mrs Kunson, even though 
she was sitting just next to the fridge, smoking a cigarette, 
which Daddy didn't really like people doing in the house, and 
drinking his whiskey, which Sally doubted even less was 
something he'd be pleased about. Sally took a deep breath and 
opened the fridge.

"Cynthia's not really a friend, Mrs Kunson, but we're friendly."

"That's nice dear!" commented Sally's neighbour, puffing 
thoughtfully on her cigarette. "Would you like to get to know 
Cyn a bit better, dear? Or a lot better? She's very eager, you 
know. There's not a lot she won't do these days. Kev, that's 
my husband, Cyn's Dad, and me, well, there's not much we 
don't do with darling Cyn. She might be a little girl, but there's a 
lot of spare capacity. And I'm sure she'd enjoy the more 
intimate attention of someone the same age as her."

Sally wasn't too sure she understood what Mrs Kunson was 
getting at. She poured some Frosties into a bowl and followed 
that with a measure of milk, which never quite splashed and 
sparkled like it did on the advert. "I like Cynthia. But she's got 
her own friends," she replied diplomatically. 

"Well, she's got her father and me to keep her happy," smiled 
Mrs Kunson. "But she's not got any brothers and sisters. And 
she says she doesn't want to invite any of her schoolfriends 
home. She says they're too busy."

Sally reflected on this. In fact, Cynthia didn't have that many 
friends these days. She'd become quite a quiet girl, sitting alone 
at the back of the class. She used to be good friends with 
Patty, but somehow she and Patty weren't so friendly now. 
However, Sally didn't want to upset Cynthia's Mum. 

"There's a lot of extra classes after school they go to."

"And Cyn says she goes to them as well," sighed Mrs Kunson. 
"Well, she's often not home until ever so late. So, Sally dear, 
what do you say? Do you want to visit Cyn? Have some fun 
like your brother, whatsisname, Sheridan, does."

"Sheridan?" wondered Sally. She knew her brother was 
spending more time with her mother, but she didn't know how 
much he was being influenced by her.

"Yes, he's always coming round. Always in and out." Mrs 
Kunson laughed and stubbed out her cigarette in the saucer 
she'd been using to collect ash. "Get it? Always in and out. And 
not just Cyn, either. He's got the darlingest little cock, your 
brother." Mrs Kunson ran a finger up the length of her vaginal 
gash, lifted it to her mouth and licked it lasciviously. 

Sally spread the butter over the slices of bread she'd retrieved 
from the bread bin, while trying to understand what Mrs 
Kunson was saying. She knew that Sheridan had started having 
sex with Mummy. In fact, he hardly ever stopped boasting 
about it. And it wouldn't really surprise her if he'd started 
fucking Mrs Kunson. It'd almost be more surprising if he 
hadn't. But Sally shivered at the idea of her brother having sex 
with Cynthia. Much as she loved Sheila, she wasn't confident 
that sex was quite what she really wanted. And she supposed 
that Cynthia probably felt much the same way.

Suddenly, there came an extra loud gasp from upstairs. 
Followed by a very throaty scream and a longer series of 
shouts. It was Sally's mother's voice. And Sally wasn't too sure 
what she was saying. Was it "Yes! Yes! Yes!"? Or "More! 
More! More!"? Then there was a kind of woofing growling 
sound.

Mrs Kunson stood up from the stool and pointed up the stairs. 
"That sounds like they've finally got old Kim, your German 
Shepherd, in on the act. About time too. The dog's just been 
watching for ages. You can't ignore a dog when he knows 
what's expected of him."

Kim? Mummy said she wouldn't let him do it again after that 
time he excitedly scratched Mrs Carter from across the road 
that time. It was a good thing she'd not needed a stitch for it, 
although Daddy was insistent she get a tetanus jab. Sally 
looked up towards the staircase in the hallway, although she 
knew she wouldn't be able to glimpse into her mother's 
bedroom where all the noise was coming from.

"Who's with Mummy?" Sally wondered.

"Oh! Well, besides me. And Kim, of course. There's Becky. 
Rebecca. Mrs Dolan, you know. And then there's Fran. You 
probably don't know her. She's a real demon for the strap-on. 
So, there are four of us, I think. And the dog, of course. You 
don't want to add to the numbers do you, dear?"

Sally was horrified. The idea! All she wanted to do was retreat 
to her room. Put on the telly and watch something. Or put on a 
CD and read a magazine. Although Sheila didn't know how 
much Sally loved her, she was sure that it would be wrong to 
compromise her love in such a way. She shook her head, while 
transferring gollops of chocolate spread onto the slices of 
bread. 

"Well, it's your loss, dear!" sighed Mrs Kunson, standing in 
front of Sally, her shaven crotch just below the height of the 
kitchen work surface, and her glass of watered-down whiskey 
in one hand. She placed a hand on Sally's face, just under the 
hair falling onto her cheek, causing the girl to wince. "You'll 
soon change your mind, dear. Cyn was much the same as you 
at first. Bit reluctant she was. Even though Kev and I, we made 
a point of doing it, you know, fucking, in front of her. Cyn's 
education, if you like. And Kev's mates as well. Cyn soon saw 
sense. And your mum. Well, she's almost the most up for it of 
all of us. If it wasn't for that bore of a husband of her's, your 
dad, well, you'd be well trained already."

Sally brushed Mrs Kunson's hand off her face. She didn't like 
what she was hearing. No wonder poor Cynthia didn't have 
many friends now. No one would want to get involved in that 
kind of stuff. Fucking was something you did when you were 
older. When you were fourteen or fifteen or something. Not 
when you were just twelve. 

"See you later perhaps, dear!" grinned Mrs Kunson, who bent 
over and pressed her lips on Sally's own and then strode off 
naked into the hallway and up the stairs.

Sally sat by herself in the kitchen. She lifted herself onto the 
stool that Mrs Kunson had vacated and chewed and chomped 
her way through the Frosties and sandwiches. She washed it 
down with long swigs of sparkling orange-flavoured drink. As 
she sat there, she looked for comfort at the pictures of cheery 
chimps and hippos on the labels of the products she was 
consuming. Above her, she could still hear the sounds of 
guttural, shrieking, sometimes quite alarming, lovemaking. Not 
only people's voices, her mother's and Mrs Kunson's being 
especially loud, but also the occasional woof and the sound of 
a bedstead thumping against the wall in a rhythmic and 
repetitive manner. She felt imprisoned. She didn't want to go 
upstairs because it meant she'd have to pass her mother's 
bedroom. But she also didn't want to be found in the kitchen by 
her mother when they'd finished. Although Mummy had 
promised Daddy, and Daddy had reassured her that this was 
so, she didn't really believe that Mummy would always respect 
her wish not to get involved.

Eventually, Sally tiptoed up the stairs. The door to her mother's 
room was open, the one that her father no longer shared, and 
Sally could see her mother crouched down, kneeling on the 
floor, with Kim just behind her and hunched over, bandages 
tied around his paws, and his groin and tail pumping backwards 
and forwards into her mother's rear. Beneath her mother, Sally 
could see another naked woman, not one she recognised, 
probably Fran, whose mouth was locked to her mother's 
mouth and who had an artificial penis, of the kind Mummy 
called a 'dildo', strapped around her waist, but not actually 
penetrating anything. As Sally passed by the doorway, anxious 
not to be seen but curious as to what was going on, she could 
see Mrs Kunson on the bed, her legs and arms wrapped 
around Mrs Dolan, but arranged in ever such a funny way, with 
their faces right up against the other's crotch. That must smell 
awfully musty, Sally thought. Especially if it smells in that funny 
pungent way her own crotch smelt like when she'd been 
stroking it and thinking of how much she loved Sheila.

Sally eased open the door to her room and jumped onto the 
bed, making an immediate indentation on the flowery duvet that 
spread across it. Sally stretched her legs out, turned on the 
stereo which still had in a CD by her favourite boy band of the 
moment and let the back of her head hit the pillow. All around 
her were pictures of the various boy and girl groups whose 
records she enjoyed and which had been cut out of the several 
magazines she bought every month. She opened one of these 
magazines, and, as she so often did, she opened it at the advice 
pages, where there was always friendly advice about what to 
do when boys didn't say the right things, or when schoolfriends 
started ignoring you, or when your best friend started going out 
with a boy.

Sally found the advice very interesting, and some of it was quite 
pertinent to her, like that letter from the girl who was in love 
with her best friend but was frightened that she'd lose her 
friendship if she confessed to her love. That was so much like 
her own dilemma with Sheila. And all that stuff about periods 
and those peculiar cramp-like pains she sometimes got and also 
those funny dizzy spells. That was all very interesting. But a lot 
of it never had anything to do with her. She couldn't see what 
other girls saw in boys for instance. Boys were just stupid. If 
they were like her brother Sheridan, that is. And they never had 
advice for girls whose mothers fucked dogs and went around 
nude all day and had sex with all the neighbours and their 
husbands. And she was too frightened to write in and ask for 
advice, because she wasn't sure whether Mummy wouldn't get 
arrested or something. Although Sally didn't quite know what 
was legal and what wasn't, she was sure that fucking dogs 
wasn't something mums should do. And what about that time 
with the pony? The time when Daddy had got ever so upset 
and told Mummy that she could do what she liked but never to 
involve their children. Even if it was just to watch. Sally didn't 
want Mummy to go to jail.

However, if Mummy did go to jail then maybe Sally could ask 
Sheila round to visit. With that thought, Sally slightly loosened 
the buttons that secured her jeans so she could get her hand 
inside her knickers. And then she and Sheila could be like 
proper friends. They could sit in front of the mirror, try on 
make-up and giggle. Sally put a finger on her crotch, the hairs 
being still quite spare, but less spare than on her mother's 
shaven vulva. Without Mummy, Sheila could stay over. And 
the two of them could nestle together on the bed. Sally's finger 
at last located that little button, the 'clitoris' as they called it in 
Sex Ed, which was never as easy to find as the magazines said. 
And when Sheila and she were locked together, they could kiss 
each other and cuddle. Sally stroked herself energetically, a 
warmth filling her coming from deep inside where the thoughts 
of her love for Sheila were most sincere and true. 

Sally put the magazine down and rolled onto her side, one hand 
inside her knickers and her fingers prodding, poking and 
stroking around her crotch while her other hand caressed a 
breast, where the nipples were attaining a new hardness and 
firmness on a bosom that was not quite flat but nothing like as 
large as Mummy's. Although her eyes were focused on a 
poster of the lead singer of a boy-girl group, a cute girl with 
pretty funky hair and a shiny ring in her navel, the image filling 
her mind was of Sheila's sweet face, the light brown hair that 
fell on either side of her face, but not onto her shoulders, the 
light blue-green eyes and that smile with the silver brace still in 
place on the top jaw. Oh! She loved Sheila. But she wasn't at 
all sure how that love should realise itself.

"Fuck, Sal! You're fucking wanking, aren't you?" suddenly 
remarked Sally's brother's voice.

Sally snatched her hand out of her trousers and turned round to 
face Sheridan, who was standing naked by the door, his penis 
obscenely erect and somehow pointing in Sally's direction. 
Although Sally was sure she ought to be attracted to things like 
that, the more often she saw erect penises the less she liked the 
sight of them. And although Sheridan's wasn't as bad as a dog's 
or a horse's or even a grown man's, it was horrible enough. 
And ever since he and Mummy had started fucking together, 
Sally had seen much more of Sheridan's penis, both erect and 
limp, rather more often than she'd cared.

"Actually," Sheridan continued, "I don't know if what girls do 
when they touch themselves is called 'wanking'. It's not like you 
get a stiffy, is it? Not like me. But of course nowadays I don't 
have to wank any more."

Sally sat up in the bed and glared at her brother. "Have you 
been ? been ? having sex with Mummy again?" She could 
see that the penis was covered with a slight coating of dust, 
which probably meant it had been used for that purpose.

"No. I'd like to've been. Mum's a good fuck. No. She's been 
knotted with Kim. She can't get out of it for ages. I've been 
fucking Fran. She's a bit younger than Mum and her cunt's not 
as loose. But she's a good fuck too!"

Sally was not a girl who liked swearing. She thought all those 
words sounded wrong somehow when they were used so 
often. And Daddy had told her not to swear. And Sally usually 
took her father's advice. And Sheridan didn't used to swear so 
much before Mummy had persuaded him to have sex with her. 
And he was only two years older than her. Did that mean that 
when she was fourteen that she would have to start swearing as 
well as having sex with older people? It was ever so confusing 
and the magazines weren't really much help in answering 
questions like that. But in the meantime, each 'fuck', 'cunt' or 
whatever cut into her like a knife. Although she wasn't exactly 
sure what other words Sheridan should be using.

"Go away, Sherry!" Sally ordered. "This is my room! You just 
can't come in here whenever you feel like it."

"Okay! Okay!" Sheridan said, holding his hands up, but his 
penis just as erect and a broad grin on his face. "Yeah. I guess 
I wouldn't want you coming into my room. Especially when I 
was fucking someone. You know, someone like Fran. Or 
Cynthia. Or Mummy. But you know it could be different you 
know."

"Could it?"

"Yeah. You could let me fuck you too. You know that Mummy 
wants me to. She said to me only yesterday: 'Wouldn't it be 
nice if we could make love with Sally as well.' So, what do you 
think? Do you think we should?"

"Mummy's already said that to me," sniffed Sally. "And I told 
her I didn't want to. And Daddy said I'm right not to. I've got 
to really want to do it before I ? before I ? before I give 
assent."

"'Assent'? That means permission or something, doesn't it? 
Well, the sooner you give assent the better. I'm just aching to 
fuck you. And look at my prick! It'd love to get inside your 
little pussy cunt."

Sally didn't like the sound of this at all. And she found the sight 
of Sheridan's erect penis fairly disgusting, but it was more or 
less the most prominent feature about him at the moment and 
impossible to ignore.

"Go away! Just leave me alone! Go away!"

Sally threw a pillow at her brother's face. It bounced off and he 
laughed, but he backed off. "Okay, Sally! Okay! But it won't 
be long, sister dear. You know that when Mummy's made her 
mind up to do something, then Mummy'll make sure it 
happens."

"Go away! Go away!"

Sally was close to tears and when the door to her room finally 
closed and her brother was gone, a small lachrymal trickle 
made its way loose from the corner of her eye and traced its 
way down her cheek. She wanted to get back to her magazine, 
but she found it difficult to concentrate on even the relatively 
trivial articles that filled it.

Sally lay on her back, her head on the pillow and faced up to 
the ceiling. The lampshade was still the childish one she'd had 
since she was six where characters from Toy Story were 
painted on the outside. Her wallpaper was similarly childish, 
being a reminder of an earlier obsession she'd once had for 
ponies. That was before Mummy let herself get fucked by one. 
That was an unpleasant memory. She'd never really noticed 
that horses even had penises before, let alone enormous ones 
like that, and it was frightening not only to see the pony's penis 
enter her mother's vagina, assisted of course by friends and 
neighbours, but also to see her mother's expression as it 
happened. "Go on! Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder!" she had 
screamed. Was that the same Mummy who used to tuck her up 
to bed and read her bedtime stories?

Sally thought about Cynthia as well. It frightened her that 
Sheridan was having sex with her. That couldn't be right. 
Sheridan was much bigger than her. But not as big, she 
reflected, as Cynthia's father, who was a burly man with short-
cropped hair. It must be horrible to have a man's full-grown 
thing inside you! And it must be odd when it's your Daddy that 
does it. Wouldn't that make it a bit funny? At least Sally's 
Daddy didn't behave like that. In fact, he didn't even make love 
with Mummy anymore, as Mummy would so often remind 
everyone whenever they had meals together. 

"What do you expect me to do since you don't fuck me any 
more?" Mummy would ask Daddy across the dinner table, 
while Sally would look down at her plate of burger, chips and 
peas with embarrassment and Sheridan would just smirk.

"That's not the point, dear," Daddy would answer. "I don't 
mind you doing whatever it is you want to do, as long as you 
don't involve the children."

"You're just a fucking dead loss!" Mummy would announce. 

The CD had come to an end, so Sally jumped off the bed to 
look for another one to put on. Perhaps a compilation or one of 
those free CDs that were mounted on the covers of her 
magazines. Just at that moment, she heard a polite knock on 
the door.

"It's me! Daddy! Can I come in?"

At least Daddy knocked. Not like Sheridan. Or even Mummy 
when she was with Mrs Carter that time and she wanted to 
show her daughter how far they'd embedded the double-
headed dildo in each other, before giggling and slamming the 
door shut again. 

"Yes. Come in."

Sally's father walked in and sat on the chair just by Sally's 
laptop computer. He was a tall thin man, whose hair was 
already partly grey and who wore wire-framed glasses that 
made him look exactly like the academic he was in real life. 

"I've got some news, Sally dear. But I don't want Sheridan or 
Mummy knowing about it. I want it to be our little secret."

"'Little secret'?" mouthed Sally with fear, who had heard of this 
expression during Sex Ed. That normally meant child abuse or 
something.

"Well not so much a little secret as just something not to tell 
Mummy and Sheridan. You know how things are now with 
your mother and your brother, don't you? How they're ? 
they're ? indulging in ? in ? improper relationships?"

Sally nodded. Daddy meant 'fucking', but didn't want to use the 
word. And she didn't want to use it herself. But she was 
worried. Was Daddy going to suggest that he and she should 
indulge in 'improper relationships' like Cynthia and her father?

"I always told your mother that was a step too far. But there's 
no stopping boys, I suppose. Indeed, I doubt whether Sheridan 
really understands what he's let himself in for. It was bad 
enough with the animals. I thought that would be the limit. 
Nothing could be worse than that. But with all the neighbours 
having 'improper relations' with their children, or at least those 
neighbours your mother spends time with, I guess it was 
inevitable that ?."

Sally's father paused and looked towards her with a strangely 
blank, despairing expression. Sally didn't know what to say, 
but she was feeling very very uncomfortable. Why wouldn't 
Daddy go away? Let her watch telly or something.

"I don't know how it all got this far. It was my fault as well I 
suppose. All those swinging parties and wife-swapping and 
kinky fun and so on. It all seemed quite harmless in a way. And 
we tried to keep all that out of sight of you kids as you were 
growing up. But somehow it just didn't stay like that. The time 
with the pony, for instance. What was your mother thinking 
about? And then Kim. He was just an ordinary dog. Now look 
at him! And then your mother had to ? had to ? seduce ? 
Sheridan. It's all far far too far too much for me!"

Sally's father paused. And then he straightened up, perhaps 
becoming aware of where he was and to whom he was 
speaking.

"What's the 'secret' Daddy?" Sally asked with a tremulous 
voice.

"'Secret'? Well, it's only a secret insofar as I don't want 
Mummy and Sheridan knowing. Everyone else it's fine. I just 
want us to leave this house. Tonight in fact. As soon as 
possible. Preferably when all your mother's friends have left 
and there'll just be her and Sheridan left behind. I can predict 
that Sheridan and your mother will be resting in the one bed, 
the one that used to be our bed, and then we can sneak out of 
the house. The secret is that I want us to leave."

"What? Leave home? Leave everything here?" Sally cried 
incredulously. She looked around her wildly at the toys and 
possessions she loved so much. She couldn't bear to leave 
them.

"Well, we'll come back for all your stuff, dear. But I've taken 
out a mortgage on a flat near here. It's a few miles away, but 
we don't want it to be too easy for your Mummy to follow us. 
It's only a two-bedroom flat. One bedroom for you. And one 
bedroom for me. But it'll be safer for you than here. It won't be 
long until your mother will try and seduce you. I can see that. 
She's a determined woman, your mother. Once she's set her 
mind up on something, it'll happen. We don't want you to be 
like poor Cynthia Kunson. Or even Camilla Carter. We've got 
to get you out of here."

"But tonight?"

"It's the soonest I could do it. Well, to be honest I've been 
putting it off. I'd been thinking of other things to do, like getting 
the law involved. But I didn't want that. And it wouldn't make 
either your mother or me popular with the neighbours. And I 
thought that maybe with each new taboo broken, your mother 
had somehow reached the limit of her appetites. But that wasn't 
to be either. So, it's about time. The choice is pretty bleak 
otherwise."

"So what do I do?"

"Pack up as many of your things as you need for tonight and 
the next couple of nights. Once we've moved out for sure, once 
it's a fait accompli, I'll tell your mother and I'll get the rest of 
your stuff moved. But it's got to be done. You can see that, 
can't you Sally?"

Sally was sitting at the head of her bed, her legs crossed 
beneath her, as she tried to imagine life not living at home. The 
thought was horrible. She'd got used to living in the pleasant 
suburban crescent and she'd got to know so many of the 
neighbours. To leave that behind? But then Sally thought 
about Sheila. How could she ever invite her best friend back 
home to a place where her brother wandered around naked 
with an erection and her mother made love with a dog while her 
neighbours joined in? What sort of a home was that? Certainly 
not the kind of home she ever saw featured on television.

But in a flat? Shared only with her father. It might be smaller, 
but at least she could ask Sheila to visit. That would be a lot 
nicer.

"Yes. I can see that, Daddy."

"Fine, dear. So get packed. But be discreet about it. Don't tell 
Mummy or Sheridan. And later tonight, we'll drive off to the 
new flat. You'll like it. It's not far from the university. Near the 
city centre."

Sally nodded. She scarcely cared where it was, although it 
might mean it was too far for her to be able to walk home from 
school any more. She could hear in the silence vacated by her 
stereo system and her father's voice, the gasping and shrieking 
coming from her mother's room. So many different voices! And 
wasn't one of them a small girl's voice like her own? Perhaps 
Mrs Kunson had brought her daughter around to visit. And that 
"Wow! Wow!" Wasn't that Sheridan?

"I can hardly wait!" Sally assured her father in all honesty.