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Doug had no choice but to retreat to his office. Kelly banged into his office without knocking three hours later. ‘You didn’t really write me up, did you?’ she demanded. ‘How could you even ask me that?!’ Doug replied. He realized an instant too late that her attitude deserved ‘yes’ for an answer, but lying never came naturally to Doug. ‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ Kelly said, near tears of rage. ‘That man is a pig, and he deserved what I said! You know that!’ ‘Haven’t denied that, have I?’ Doug reminded her. Kelly took a deep breath. ‘You also haven’t answered my question.’ ‘And I won’t,’ Doug said. ‘You ought to know the answer. Or else what kind of bastard do you think I am?’ ‘The kind I made a fool of myself for last night,’ Kelly whined, flopping down now in the chair before his desk. ‘Doug, I’m so embarrassed about that, now that I know it really happened. I’m not that kind of woman.’ ‘What kind? The kind who would date a working class kid like me?’ ‘No!’ Kelly. Dad too, of course, but he was (in the tradition of the times) more remote. Mum could tell there was something keeping me here, she couldn’t quite get it. She asked if there were any holiday girls working in the caravan sites. Not very subtle, but on the right track. I didn’t tell her I was sharing with four sexy girls, three of whom were currently in the garden at the cottage wearing next to nothing, and the other one was standing outside still (she told me) leaking from our sex session. Gramps was recovering and was apparently delighted with his book, he kept telling their granny interesting facts about Wolseley; which is like a woman explaining why knit one, purl one is such a fine knitting stitch. Granny was asked about the insurance for the car and said the certificate was in the back room, in the writing desk. We should check, she said.We had agreed we would go in that evening. So back at the cottage, Fiona and I went to the back room. Fiona bent to look in the drawers. “Dave,.
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