‘Mister, mister! Wanna by some of my Little Nightingales cupcakes? I baked them myself! I got a gold patch for them and everything! Only two dollars...each!’ Her pearly whites were flashing at him. She exuded goodness, the spirit of free enterprise and young Republicanism at its finest. He felt like he might need to throw up. He was not at all sure that he cared if she was in the way or not when the volcano erupted. ‘Go away kid, your bothering me!’ he barked hoarsely. ‘But Mister! Mr. King next. 'Happy Christmas darling Em, lots of love from Mummy.'Shocks number two and three, how could Margaret with all her formality submit to a pet name, and why had I never in all the time I'd know her, ever considered that she must have a family? And finally, the words, 'lots of love from Mummy.' That was all it took to break me. I began to shake uncontrollably. Emotions that I had buried under selfish fun and sexual depravity erupted as explosively as an orgasm, but with no pleasure and peace to. More

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