..Returning to the bedroom, the man continued to snore. Suddenly decisive, she set about finding the clothes she'd taken off an hour or two previously and with them tiptoed out of the room again and downstairs. She dressed hastily and went to the back door. No key, of course, and she wasn't about to turn on a light to try to find one. The window! She used a chair to climb onto the sink-unit, opened the window without difficulty, and climbed out. It was a drop of maybe five feet – no big deal – but she turned her ankle a little, enough to make walking uncomfortable.Her clothes were not ideal, intended to make her look like a pre-teen schoolgirl. At least they covered her. She was scared ... unsurprisingly, of course. She knew her very limited command of English would not permit her to pass herself as British. Her experience of officialdom did not inspire confidence in her, either. For now, though, she was free and she needed to get away from the house and get under cover. Time enough. None of these outcomes seemed particularly appealing to me. This wasmaybe a trickier subject than I had initially assumed. I made a mentalnote that this was something that needed testing.I looked at Evan, who was looking curiously at the shelf I had beenidly staring at while I was lost in thought.I suppose it's obvious in retrospect why the idea popped into my brainjust then. What I don't understand is why it seemed like such a goodidea at the time when just moments earlier I had been dreading the veryprospect. It was the power, I think. Little things like 'no' become'why not?' in the face of it.If I gave Evan a love of makeup like I had given him a love ofshopping, if I gave him all the skills needed to really make a girl'sface shine, then not only could we use it to experiment with skillswapping when we got home, but, if worse came to worst, at least I'dhave someone who could put on my makeup for me on those rare occasionswhen it was called for.On second thought, giving Evan a love.
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