‘You say she’s not a child? You… young lady… how old are you?’ ‘I dunno, sir. I ain’t been told.’ That said, she placed her thumb in h...r mouth and sucked it in a childish manner. ‘The girl is slow-witted. She must be nineteen or twenty by now,’ Sir Baring said, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. ‘She’s the caretaker’s daughter. Surely there must be something?’ Sir Baring said, his flushed countenance gone pale. When I failed to reply, Sir Baring stared at me for a full minute. Then still. My mother sat with me on a bench, and a fat ladyrequested silence from the audience, just to start ona hymn that was like those Gallic songs of Enya.At the completion everyone kept the candles and alight from the roof illuminated the stage.Another fat woman, started to describe the faults of men throughout the ages, and continued along until myfather was mentioned.A door on the side suddenly opened to let my Dadinside the stage with a flower print summer dress onhim.It seemed to me that he had. More

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