Oh, the British summer l thought then Sylvia told me to follow her, she led me to a barn, well l say barn it only had a roof and was stacked with rolls of hay, but it did shelter us from the rain. I was stretched out on her bed listening to the music and Sarah was sat at her desk, l enquired how she was finding collage when she stop me and sat at the edge of the bed and asked me if l was moving out now that Sylvia and my father had split up because she didn’t want me to go, so l assured her that l wasn’t moving out. Porn I always got on with Sylvia and her daughters when l came home from university, but this summer felt different when l arrived home. It was the summer of 1990 and l was 21yrs old, my father had remarried 10 or 12 years earlier to a woman called Sylvia, she always dressed very modern for her age. As we ate l gathered what Sylvia was going to tell me by the things l hadn’t noticed
