"Hand them over." He passed them toher. She held them up and admired them. "Such good taste you have, Chris,and a good make - I see they are Rigby and...Peller, is all of yourunderwear to this pattern?" Yes, now please may I put them away," begged Chris. "No, I think we willjust leave them on the table so I can admire them some more. Tell me whyyou are wearing ladies underwear?"Chris just wanted to shrink into the ground. He grabbed his wine anddrank deeply. "I just happen to like the fabric," he. “Oh, Norah,“ she called after me before she resumed peeling potatoes for lunch, “your dad needs the car in a bit so you need to take the bikes.”“Great mum, it’s already 40 degrees outside.” When I told Will, how we have to spend the morning he wasn’t overly joyous either.“Can you even ride a bike, city boy?” I’ve asked him. He was from a small town less than ten miles from my village and he either drove his parents’ car like I did or we took the bus.He gave me a cross look. “You think I’ve. More

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