Stuart Aken's Blog, page 267

When is Theft Not Really Stealing?

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Theo: You do the boss afavour, staying at your desk over your lunch break to field an important callfor him, and, whilst you're captive, in what's generally your own time, yousurf the net. It's company policy that you can do this during your lunch break,provided you don't enter inappropriate sites, of course. You come across anarticle you've been wanting to read; research for a private project. So,without the time to read it there and then, you print off the five pages withthe colour illustrations, on the firm's laser printer so you can take it hometo read in comfort. Is that theft?
Dave: What, taking fivesheets of office paper and a bit of ink they'll never even notice? You'rekiddin', right?
Theo: The question isthis: Is it yours to take?
Dave: Hell, man, you'redoing the boss a favour in your own time. He owes you, doesn't he? Any case, Ibet you waste more paper and ink than that nearly every day by mistake.
Theo: So, you don't thinkit counts as stealing?
Dave: No way.
Theo: The same, I suppose,goes for those odd paper clips, rubber bands and envelopes you take forpersonal use?
Dave: Look, everyone doesthat. You can't call it stealing. The amount they pay for stationery, they'dnever even notice, would they?
Theo: And the privateletters placed into the post tray to be stamped or franked?
Dave: Maybe in an emergency.You know, when it needs to go today and you don't have a stamp or you can't getout the office for some reason. Once in a while won't do any harm, will it?
Theo: What about thatphotocopying of the club's agenda for that meeting you've arranged tonight assecretary? A copy of three pages for each of thirty seven members. How aboutthat?
Dave: It's for a goodcause, isn't it? I mean, I know the boss doesn't give to that cause, but thefirm chooses a charity every year to support, so they don't mind a bit ofgiving, do they?
Theo: Not, then, a matterof principle? More one of expediency, I suppose?
Dave: Horses for courses,mate. What harm's it do. That sort of thing doesn't hurt the company. Any case,everybody does it.
Theo: And because everybodydoes it, that makes it acceptable, or right?
Dave: Well, you can'treally call it stealing, can you? I mean, stealing's important things, thingsthat cost, not little bits and pieces like that.
Theo: So, just to get thisright: everybody does it and they're only small things?
Dave: That's right.
Theo: So. A hundredemployees take a hundred sheets, together with the accompanying ink, what,every week, month, year?
Dave: Now you're beingdaft. Not everyone does that much, do they? I mean that's ten k sheets and alot of ink. No. It's not like that; it's just occasional and not all the staffdo it, do they?
Theo: Not everybody, then?
Dave: Well, no. Some folkaren't interested in that sort of thing. They take other things instead.
Theo: Ah, you mean time?For example, the quarter of an hour they spend talking at the water cooler whenthey're being paid to work? Or the few minutes each day they arrive late? Ormaybe those odd minutes they need for shopping over lunch? That sort of thing?
Dave: That's right. Mostpeople do that sort of thing.
Theo: And that's notstealing, even though they're paid for that time?
Dave: You think the bosseswork every hour of every day? Think they're working when they have a  'meeting' on the golf course? Think they'reworking when they fly business class to some conference they could do by videocall?
Theo: I understand yourpoint. So, what you mean when you say the everybody does it, is that thepractise of petty theft is rife throughout the structure of the workplace andis accepted simply as a part of daily life?
Dave: Well, I wouldn't putit like that. But, yeah, I suppose that's really what it is when you look atit. I mean, no one works every minute of every day doing what they're paid todo, do they?
Theo: I expect not. Infact, I suspect it would be bad for their mental health if they did. But, mypoint here is more about what we call such things. What we label this activity.The bosses see their own small thefts as 'perks', the natural reward for theirlevel of commitment. How do the ordinary workers see their own small acts ofstealing?
Dave: Most of them see itas getting something more out the bosses, if they think of it at all. You'remaking more of it than it really is, Theo. It's just part of working life.
Theo: You're probablyright. But what that means in reality is that workers, and their bosses,actually approve, even if only by not disapproving, the daily general theftwe've discussed.
Dave: Life's too short toworry about things like that.
Theo: But, what concernsme, Dave, is whether the casual acceptance of such petty theft allows somepeople to consider rather more valuable items taken to be also acceptable. Wedon't have time to discuss this now. But I'd like to plant the notion that it'sthe general acceptance of small theft as unimportant that allows some folk togo on to steal the work of others, to see such theft as something normal and ofno harm to anyone.
Dave: It's a thought. But,like you say, we best get back to work. The boss is looking over here andglancing at his watch.

Ariel, by Sylvia Plath, Reviewed

Mostly incomprehensible. For me, atleast, that encloses in a nutshell the bulk and content of this overly personalpoetry. Oh, the mood of depression and despair is thick enough to be tangibleand some of the imagery even peers through the gloom in a form that I canrecognise. But much of this self-indulgent outpouring of grief, bitterness andbile is so utterly personal to the poet that, without those essential notesused by the students of literature, I find I'm lost in a morass of meaninglessreferences.
The exceptions are the poems about thebees. These, at least, I can understand and therefore appreciate. There is lifeand light and some understanding of both the insects and their keepers here.
As for the rest; I'm at a loss tounderstand the poet's reputation as foremost amongst those of her time. Whilstaccepting that poetry is necessarily a personal experience set in the form ofwords employing descriptive language and often obtuse references that make formetaphor, I do expect to be able to take something from the verse apart fromutter incomprehension. I read Dylan Thomas and know where I am and what it is I'mbeing told. I need no interpreter, no student's notes, no back history aboutthe writer. But, without such guidance, these poems are, for me, just so manywords.
If the poet intends to communicatefeeling, mood, impressions in any manner that her readers will understand, thensurely density, obfuscation and abstract reference must occasionally bow toclarity, mustn't they?
I fully understand that the disciples ofthese works and their creator will label me a philistine, an ignoramus, perhapseven a fool. In my defence, I would simply say that I read the entire anthologyand was able to comprehend around ten of the eighty pages. That the poet wasmostly living a troubled and despairing life is evident. But what she actuallymeant by the mass of the work presented here will remain a mystery to me.
I wonder if this is another of thosewriters who ranks with James Joyce and a few others as an object of admirationbecause the critics are terrified of appearing foolish should they admit tofinding the work unintelligible. I recognise that the failing may well lie withme, but I'm unable to quite avoid the impression that somehow the literaryworld has allowed itself to be fooled in much the same way as the art world hasaccepted Damon Hirst's  biologicalspecimens as works of art rather than the anatomical samples they are inreality.
Not a poet I shall read again.Disappointing and ultimately deeply unsatisfying. 

In Aid of Inshore Rescue

A friend of mine, Rick Sumner, has produced a slim volume of comic verse to be sold to raise funds for the local inshore rescue service. This maritime service has done sterling work over the years since it was first introduced, rescuing people in difficulties in the seas around the East Yorkshire town of Hornsea. If you'd like to obtain a copy, but don't get as far as Hornsea, here's the contactlink.

And, by way of a tempter, here's an example of the verse:

 A very small fellow once stated
That he wanted his legs elongated
But when his friend Jack
Stretched him out on a rack
He screamed 'STOP, being tall's over rated.'

Rick's Rescue Rhymes can be purchased for the enormous outlay of £1.00 from Hornsea Inshore Rescue, or by post, by contacting Rick using the link above. For that service, there will be a small postal service, but all money raised goes to this excellent cause.

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 8

If you've got this far, youdon't need me interrupting with stuff you already know. Enjoy the read.
If you missed the start,here's the link to it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Chapter 1 appeared on 13January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via thearchive.
Read, enjoy, invite yourfriends.
Chapter 8
Wednesday 24th March

'…Happy birthday to you.'Abby seemed as much embarrassed as touched by ourdisplay. She blew out the candles on the cake Ma had baked and iced.'How old are you?'She whispered, a secret, that she was twenty-two.'How old are you?''I'll be twenty one in a few months time.''Twenty-one? What date, love?' Ma seemed keen toknow.'Some time in July or August, I think.'Ma, Old Hodge, Abby and Leigh stared incredulouslyat me. It was Leigh who asked. 'You don't know when yourbirthday is?''Oh, I always put August the first on forms andthings. But I don't know the actual date.''Have you never celebrated your birthday, love?''No.''Had a party?''Never.''Been to a party?'I shook my head as Ma and Leigh exchange glances.'You will this year.'Ma reached across and enfolded my hand in hers.'Apart from that useless father of yours, who knows your birthday date?''Mother, I suppose. And probably Charity.'There was a moment of total silence around thetable. 'It's Abby's birthday. Shouldn't we be concentrating on her?'Abby leant across and kissed my cheek. It wasnice, but nothing like being kissed by Leigh. 'You're a weird, peculiar, funnywoman, Fay, but, honey, you've got a heart of gold.'We toasted Abby in white wine and wished herhealth and happiness. I sipped the pale gold liquid in my glass and liked it,so drank the rest.'Nice?' Leigh smiled in a slightly mockingfashion.'Very.''Not drunk wine before, have you, Fay?''I do wish you'd call me Faith. And, no, Ihaven't.'Abby turned to Leigh. 'You'll not have such astraightforward time with this one, Leigh. Needs educating. And, obviously,she's not into free love, or any kind of love, as far as I can tell. Won't besharing your bed for a long while.''Ever!'Leigh just grinned at my emphatic statement.'I mean it. Unless we were married, of course.'I wondered why I had said that and whether Ishould have, but Leigh just smiled at me in that odd way he sometimes had andAbby, well, Abby shrugged her shoulders and stared at me as if she believed theexact opposite.'Once I've gone, you'll be able to spend moretime… Oh, it's okay, Leigh, I knew you were working up to a split, but beingthe sentimental old fool you are, you didn't want to tell me until after mybirthday. I'm getting bored anyway; too easy to have my way with you. Time forpastures new. Des has been in touch and my liver's hanging out for the cool ofjazz and a spot of pot, so I'm scooting to his pad tomorrow.'Leigh seemed not at all upset at her announcement,more disappointed in something else.'You've ditched the weed, Abby. Don't take it upagain for kicks, love, please.''I've kicked the habit once, I can do it again. Iache for a fix, honey. Des is groovy but he doesn't do it down below for melike you. Don't begrudge me my lift.''Suit yourself, Abby. But you know my views oncoffin nails.'She leant forward and squeezed his hand. 'I know;Nosmo King rules here, okay. Relax, lover, it's not going to happen to me.Anyway, what I propose for today, since I know you've nothing on, is…''Not yet, but I'm sure he'll be that way as soonas you're ready.' I blushed, horrified by what I had said. But they all justlaughed as if I had cracked a joke.'As I was saying, I think you and I should have afinal session on the project. You said you wanted me for the window cleaningshots. It's a nice day, for the inside shots. And, now the walkers are on thescene, we might entertain them by using the French windows in the library.''Exhibitionist.'Abby turned to Ma and nodded. 'If you've got it, flauntit. They'll not be able to identify me from the stile in the bottom field butthey'll be almost sure we're almost naked and it'll give them something betterto talk about than their boots.''Will you need me, Leigh?''Doubt it. I'll use natural light with reflectors,as I have for the rest of the project. If you wouldn't mind bringing a couplein from the studio and taking them to the library...?'I stood, confused for a moment, before shaking myhead and leaving for the studio. I had no idea where to find the library. Ishrugged; there were not many rooms to choose from after all.Leigh's final session with Abby in front of thecamera lasted all afternoon; he was gathering pictures of part clothed or nakedwomen doing housework for some sort of arty book he called 'a coffee tablebook', though I wasn't sure what that was. I imagine they had carnal knowledgeof each other as well.The following morning, long after Leigh had leftfor Harrogate, Abby appeared in the office with her bags. I looked at her inher lemon crop top that hugged her breasts so closely that her nipplesprotruded. Lilac bellbottom hipsters fitted tightly to her thighs and buttocks.Her feet were shod in bright red platforms of glossy mock patent and her rightwrist held a dozen assorted bangles that clinked as she moved.She sauntered to the leather seat behind Leigh'sdesk, sat down and lifted her feet onto the desk. 'Call me a taxi, honey.''Okay, you're a taxi.''Ho-di-ho. Positively antediluvian, sweetie.'I ordered the taxi and asked for the destination,which Abby gave me. When I had finished on the phone, I stared across at thewoman who had shared Leigh's bed for as long as I had known him. 'Aren't yousad you're going?''Easy come, easy go. Leigh and I are free spirits.It's been fun and the best sex ever. But all good things… In any case, and hearme here, Fay, never let a man get under your skin. They're shits by and large.Leigh's hip and fun and he screws with a rod of hot steel but he's just a man.Get liberated, honey. Live your own life, get in the groove but make sure it'syour groove. Hey, man, lighten up and get easy.'I shrugged. 'I expect I might understand half ofwhat you say eventually, Abby, but I wish you'd speak English.' I wondered whyshe had suddenly taken to talking in this peculiar fashion but I knew betterthan to ask. 'The taxi will be here in half an hour. I never realized you livedso far away; I always thought you were local.''Fay, you're so parochial; just the end. It's onlythe other side of Garsington for Pete's sake. Any case, I don't live there, mypad's over the other side of the Dale in Wharfsden. Where I'm going is this hipjoint where a groovy guy who digs jazz and pot hangs out. He's been freaked byme since the beginning, so I thought I'd just, you know, drop in and drop outfor a while.'I shook my head and wondered if it would be rudeof me to get on with my work. Abby had other ideas.'Let me fill you in on some heavy news, honey.When the time comes to hone the bone the first time, don't close the canyon andhold your breath. Just loosen up and welcome in the joy horn, breathe easy,pant, and ride it. That way it won't hurt at all, I guarantee.'I thought I had probably been given some valuableadvice but was both too shy and too polite to ask for an explanation so smiled,nodded and said, 'Thank you, I will.''Final word. Leigh's your guy for the first ride.He's got hands that take you to the stars and he licks like for paradise. He'sthe only guy I've had who not only knows what a clit is but doesn't have tohunt it. Hits the spot every time.'I became vaguely aware that all this was to dowith sex. It was a concept outside my personal knowledge and experience, thoughI knew Abby and Leigh fornicated all the time and evidently enjoyed it. Now, itseemed, there was some strange, esoteric language involved. It was anotherreason to avoid an activity my father described as destructive and harmful aswell as addictive.The taxi arrived and I helped Abby load her bagsonto the back seat as the driver sat inside, smoking. She got in and asked himwhat it would cost. It sounded a lot to me.'Flash the cash, honey. Leigh says to take it outof petty cash.''I don't think Leigh would expect me to pay foryour taxi …''Calling me a liar, honey?'I had no idea what was best. In the end I thoughtI had better pay as she said and ask Leigh when he came back. I just hoped hewould not be too cross if I had chosen wrongly. He could be funny about moneysometimes. When Abby had gone, I caught up with the paperworkso that I had finished before lunch.In the kitchen, Ma opened the topic that hadstarted the previous day. 'Do you have anything to do with your mother, Faith?'Old Hodge was at the table already and watching mewith interest. I liked the Hodges; they were kind, warm and affectionate. Theymade me feel wanted and safe and valued. Father made me feel unwanted,unworthy, stupid and a burden. My mother… 'I used to write occasionally but Inever got a reply. Father says she's a whore, but then he says all women are soI don't suppose that helps. She left me behind when she took Charity becauseshe thought me ugly and stupid. Charity's grown up now; I'd like to meet herbut I don't know anything about her really.''Just a thought; why not write to your mother fromhere and give Longhouse as your address? She's bound to be curious. You couldask her when your birthday is, as well.''Why should she reply here, Ma, when she neverdoes at home?Ma looked at Old Hodge. He took my hand and heldit between both of his. His fingers were strong and gnarled but his touch wassoft and welcoming. 'What Ma's suggesting, love, is that perhaps your Mum didreply but your father didn't want you to hear what she had to say.''Father would never…Oh!' It had not occurred to mebefore. He always either met the post woman or demanded I give him the postunopened. Not that there was ever very much; a couple of large plain envelopes,quite heavy, with foreign stamps every month and others I assumed must be billsby his manner when he opened them. 'Why would he not want me to know what shehas to say?''Perhaps he's not always told you the truth?''Father always tells the truth!' I pulled my handfree from Old Hodge, startled by his accusation and expecting to feel an angerthat never came. Instead, and unaccountably, I burst into tears. Old Hodge puthis arm round me and uttered soothing words as he stroked my shoulders andback.Afterwards, calm and collected again, I explainedhow Father's behaviour during Leigh's visit had unsettled me. He had seemedafraid of Leigh, deferential and condescending, even telling lies. This was soout of character for a man I knew as violently opinionated. Father, I explainedwas a difficult man, hard and sometimes brutal in his search for what heconsidered truth and duty and the true service of God. I always tried to do ashe commanded but I had discovered things that made some of what he told me seemdoubtful.'Father seems to hold opinions and beliefs thatmost other people don't agree with. He's always told me that other people'sviews don't matter because they're all sinners and they'll burn in Hell. But Ilook around me and I see good people, I see people who love and are loved,people who care, people who say and do things to make life better for othersand I'm so confused and…''Do you believe you're stupid, Faith?''Father does. Most people do.'Old Hodge lifted the ever-present cap andscratched his bald head. He looked at Ma and apparently received theencouragement he sought. 'You're a bright, intelligent, young woman, Faith. Maand I think so, and Leigh. And, by now, if you talk to most of the villagers,you'll find they treat you with more respect.'I had noticed people seemed to smile at me in thestreet and sometimes even spoke. 'Why?''Because,' Ma told me, as she dished out the meal,'Old Hodge and I, and Leigh, have been telling them the truth. We've beenundoing the years of lies put out by your father.''What lies?''Why, Faith, when you're so obviously bright andclever, do you think folk call you an idiot?''I'm ignorant and...''Ignorant, maybe. Ignorant in the sense that youonly know what your father's allowed you to know. He's spent your entire lifetelling people that you're stupid. Tell people something often enough and they'llbelieve it in spite of the evidence. Of course, your clothes haven't helped.''Why? Why would father do that?''That's something you'll have to discover foryourself. One thing I do know, though and that is you're not a fool, you're notan idiot, you're not stupid, Faith. You're simply innocent and naive. And wecan do something about that.'When Leigh arrived home, rather later thanexpected, I was in the library. 'Knew I'd find you in here if you weren't inthe office. Now you've discovered it, you can't keep away, can you?''I'm sorry, Leigh. I'd finished everything therewas to do in the office and I thought I might be able to learn something of usein here, that's all.''Don't apologize. In fact, from now on, you're tospend some of every day in here. I want you to read as much as you can. If youfinish your work early, come in here and pick up a book until I'm ready to takeyou home. It's the only way you're going to catch up on your education andincrease your knowledge of the real world. It wouldn't hurt if you watched abit of telly, either. Trouble is you're at home when the good stuff's on. I'dlove to see your reaction to some of the current sitcoms. I'm sure you'd findFrank Spencer amusing, and The Good Life. And Morecambe and Wise would definitelymake you laugh.'I had only had a glimpse of a television inoperation, as I passed a cottage in the village. There was one in the sittingroom, crouching in the corner between the fire and window, with its great greyscreen staring into the room. I had no real idea what it held but most peopleseemed to enjoy it. Father was violently opposed to it and I wondered whatwickedness it portrayed to deserve his severe sanction.One day, perhaps, I would see some of what it hadto offer and then I might judge for myself and decide whether Father was rightor wrong. The significance of that thought hit me hard.'Are you all right, Faith?''Is it normal for children to believe what they'retold by their parents?'He sat opposite me. 'Depends on the parents andthe child, Faith.' For a while, he struggled to make up his mind aboutsomething. 'In your case, I can only say that you're singularly moreintelligent than your father. If you want my opinion, and you did ask me, Isuggest you question and doubt everything he's ever told you. And I do meaneverything.'It was too much, of course. I was steeped inFather's opinions and rules and ideas. I had none of my own and precious littleinformation to form any. But I had learned that Father's view of the world was violentlydifferent from almost everyone else I knew. I looked about me and saw that mostpeople had periods of contentment and even occasional happiness. Father washabitually morose.On balance, whether he was right or wrong seemednot to be the point. I asked myself whether I wanted to be happy or miserablefor the rest of my life and I knew the answer even as I posed the question. Butthat opened huge questions and threatened life-changing answers for which I wasnot ready.I found myself seeking the mundane, the ordinary,in order to avoid the turmoil caused by my questions. 'Leigh, Abby asked me topay for her taxi out of petty cash. Was that all right?''An enigma. That's what you are, Faith Heacham. Apuzzling, fascinating, exasperating, endearing, frustrating, attractive,idiosyncratic, marvellous enigma. And, yes, it was perfectly okay to pay forAbby's taxi from petty cash. I suggested it, but I forgot to tell you. Sorry.Come on, little Miss Enigmatic, time I took you home to that monster of a fatherof yours. Though, God knows why you stay with him.'His words so surprised me that I was incapable ofspeaking sensibly, so said nothing. I thought about how he had described me andwhat he had said about me staying with Father. That raised terrifying, excitingpossibilities that made my head spin. I could not cope with such ideas andagain sought refuge in my surroundings and things familiar.Early spring sunlight dappled Leigh's hair as wepassed under the greening trees. I found myself looking at him and thinking howattractive he was. Another thought too disturbing to allow.'Ever been to York?' His question cameunexpectedly and startled me with its apparent irrelevance.'York?''York.''I've never been out of the Dale, Leigh. I've beento the village, Longhouse, and to a secret tarn up above the cottage. Nowhereelse.'He shook his head in disbelief, though ourenthusiastic discussions of his landscapes must have revealed how little I knewof our local geography.'Warn your damned father you'll be late home onMonday night.''I think you're more likely to be damned thanFather.''As likely, I suspect, but for different reasons.'That raised more questions than I could face withmy mind already whirling. 'Why will I be late on Monday night?''We're going to York for the day.''You've got a job in Leeds.''Tuesday?''You've promised George you'll have the proofsready for the calendar by last thing Tuesday.''Wednesday?''Nothing that won't wait.''Wednesday, then. We're spending the day in Yorkon Wednesday. I want you in your best togs. Be as adventurous as you like. Andhave a pair of stout town shoes as well as something for evening wear with you.Do your hair and put a face on. We're going to do the town, you and I.'I was excited and frightened. 'Father won't allowme home later than seven.''Father will do as I say, if he wants you to stayin my employ and get paid. Try that on him. Your father understands thelanguage of money, even if he's deaf to every other normal plea.'Leigh stopped at the village shop for me tocollect bread and milk. It was such a habit now that he just did it as a matterof course, occasionally coming in with me to buy a magazine or paper or some ofMa's favourite sweets. Mrs Greenhough was much more respectful to me now and Inoticed she treated Leigh with great politeness even when he pulled her leg,which he did most of the time.At the bottom of the steep track that led to thecottage, he stopped the car and got out to open my door.'Why are you taking me to York?''Need a new typewriter. That old manual's had itsday. Time to invest in an electronic model, I think.''Will that take all day?''An hour, at the outside.''Will it take us a long time to get there?''It's about an hour and a half each way, why?''You said we'd be all day and not get home tilllate.''That's right. See you Monday. Have a goodweekend.''Aren't you in tomorrow?''Sorry, should've told you, but it only came up ashort while after I got back. I've got to go and see someone over the weekendand I'll be setting off early tomorrow morning. Family thing. Sort of emergencybut I expect it'll come to nothing. It usually does. Look, have the day off.Take a day's holiday. Paid, of course.''Thank you, Leigh, but I'd rather go toLonghouse.'He looked at me for a long time. 'If you must. Butset off late and leave early. Spend your time reading. Better still; write thatletter to your mother. I mean it. See you on Monday.'And he returned to the car and drove off. Heseemed rather distracted as he left for his family crisis. And I realized Iknew very little about him and absolutely nothing about his family, except thathe had once had an Uncle Fred who had lived in Longhouse.I waited for the sound of his car to die awaybefore turning to climb the rough track to the cottage. I was a little earlierthan usual and hoped Father would be pleasantly surprised to see me.
###
You've got this far. Seemsunlikely you'll stop now. But, if you do get impatient waiting, you know whereto look to buy the book.
Web site: http://stuartaken.co.uk
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An Interview with Leighton from Breaking Faith.

I had a piece from Faith a short while ago. Thought I should restore balance by letting Leigh have his say. 
Leigh: Seems a bit odd, youinterviewing me, when you invented me, Stuart.
SA: I know, but I'd liketo give my readers a bit more insight.
Leigh: Readers matter, then,do they?
SA: They're the writer'slifeblood. Without them, the whole of the activity would be pretty meaningless.
Leigh: Bit insulting on uscharacters, isn't it? That attitude, I mean. I do have feelings, you know. Infact, you of all people, should know I have deep emotions.
SA: Fair point, Leigh. Butyou must also realise that you're a figment of my imagination, whilst thereaders are real people. They have to have precedence in the mind and world ofthe writer.
Leigh: Fair enough. But itstill makes me feel a bit like a spare part here. Anyroad, what did you want toknow?
SA: Can we first get overthe fact that I invented you and therefore know all there is to know about you?I'm not asking these questions for myself but for my readers. Okay?
Leigh: You're the boss.
SA: Perhaps you'd tell uswhich book you appear in?
Leigh: I'm the maleprotagonist, you might say 'hero' in that romantic thriller you wrote; BreakingFaith. By the way, I have to thank you for those great women you gave me tointeract with. Had a great time with some of them; well, most of them,actually. And…
SA: Sorry to interrupt.It's great you want to talk this way, but I've a couple more questions to askfirst, if that's okay?
Leigh: Right fire away.Though this was supposed to my gig…
SA: So it is. But if youcould offer me some advice, what would you say to me?
Leigh: Honest, no holdsbarred?
SA: Express yourself.
Leigh: Well, there weretimes early on I thought you made me look pretty shallow. Of course, you let medevelop as the story developed, but I felt I was perceived as a bit superficialto begin with.
SA: That's because youwere being described through the eyes of Faith, and she had a very limited andspecific world view.
Leigh: Fair comment.
SA: So, how do you feelabout the way readers perceive you at the end of the story?
Leigh: Ah, well, by thattime they know a lot more about me. I think I come across as a well-roundedbloke. I mean my initial obsessions, yes, I admit it's obsession, with nakedwomen and sex, is modified by the way I grow to feel about Faith (this won'tspoil things for readers who haven't yet read the book, will it?) and peopleget to know what really drives me, what really matters to me. I know I can comeacross to some as a bit too keen on getting their knickers off, but I really dolove women. I mean, by that, that I love them in all their forms, all theirways. Look at the way a woman's put together. What better design for a livingbeauty can you imagine? Oh, I know we're all driven by our biologicalimperative, our need to pass on our genes and ensure they survive, but there'sa lot more to it than that.
That's the trouble withthe scientists; they reduce everything to rational causes, when we all knowthat feeling is a vital part of our make-up as well. And I, for one, don'tsubscribe to the school of thought that says our emotions are nothing more thansublimation of that damned biological imperative. Reducing us to chemicalreactions is an insult to the race, don't you think?
As for those bloodygodbotherers; well, they make my blood boil. Look, the early human race had noidea about what caused most things to happen. They lived in a world populatedby wild and hungry predators, in a world where the climate and the environmentwere anything but friendly to them. They suffered earthquakes and forest fires,floods and droughts. No wonder they sought some reason for their plight. No wonderthey came up with various different deities to explain the inexplicable. Inthose days, before science and rational thought developed, there was no otherway they could make sense of their world.
But to continue thesebloody myths into the modern world, when we know so much more about how theworld and life work, seems to me to be nothing short of perverse. And, as soonas rational thought became widespread it was only a matter of time before someclever sod would pervert those beliefs in whatever gods were native at the timeinto methods of controlling the rest of the population. That's what religionis, after all: a control tool for despots and bullies. It's got about as muchto do with spiritual wellbeing as a thistle up your arse.
Mind you, that doesn'tmean I'm necessarily on the side of the scientists. Seems to me that a lot ofwhat they have to say is open to debate as well. I know the best of them areopen-minded and willing to be persuaded. But there's a good few who stick asdoggedly to their theories and hypotheses as those bloody godbotherers do totheir dogmas. Like to see a bit more doubt, a bit more humility, a bit more ofan acceptance that we don't know the answer to everything and probably neverwill. Bloody good thing, too, if you ask me. I mean, can you imagine thearrogance of a human race that held all the answers? We'd be fuckingimpossible. It's the worst thing that could happen to us as a race, don't youthink?
SA: Well, thank you forthat, Leigh. You have some pretty wild ideas, don't you?
Leigh: Wild? I don't thinkso. But I guess I do get a bit passionate about things that matter to me. Whyshouldn't I? The leaders in society, of whatever leaning or calling, haveplenty of opportunities to have their say. It's not often the rest of us get alook-in, is it?
SA: If I could just returnto the book for a moment? I'd be interested to know how you came to employ thatsod, Mervyn?
Leigh: Ah. Merv the perv.In many ways I was as guilty of attempted conversion with him as Faith was withme in the initial days and weeks. I took him on for practical reasons: myworkload was such that I couldn't afford to spend as much time in the darkroomas I needed to turn out the work I was producing. Merv had a natural skill withthe chemical and physical processes. He'd absolutely no imagination, of course,but he was able to follow my lead and soon learned what I did and didn't needfrom him. Let's be honest, as a man he was a bastard, but as a printer…well,I'd never have found a better one. Once I'd got him in Longhouse, I tried towork on him and change his attitude to women, people in general, I suppose.Waste of time, of course, but that was my hope and intention.
SA: And your attitude toglamour photography; how did Faith influence that?
Leigh: Initially, Ithought she was just a prude with some distorted view of nudity gleaned fromher upbringing by that shithouse, Heacham. But when I really thought about whatshe had to say, she actually made sense. As you know, I stopped doing theglamour work completely and only did full nudes after that. Like Faith said,real art requires absolute honesty. I've her to thank for showing me thattruth.
SA: Well, Leigh, thank youfor your time and your thoughts. It's been most interesting.
Leigh; You're welcome. Ihope the readers have got something out of it. Maybe some of them willunderstand where I'm coming from a bit better, eh?
SA: Perhaps. Let's hopethey comment and then see what they say, shall we?

Why do people believe you whenyou say there are over four billion stars, but check when you tell themthe paint is wet?

The Analects, Confucius, Reviewed

Disappointing. That's a bald statementand perhaps not the most expected, considering the reputation of this Chineseman of…wisdom? I didn't find that, to be honest. From several hundred shortpassages of supposed erudition I listed ten I thought worthy of spreading tothe wider world.
All the Confucianists will, of course bescreaming abuse and possibly foaming at the mouth, because Confucius, ratherlike other famed wise men, has taken a role close to that of a god for many.
I found him conservative, unimaginative,intolerant and a man who seemed to express a singular self-preservationist philosophy,no doubt intended to keep him alive in what was a very violent society. Igleaned this, by the way, from this book, not from a reading of history.
It's clear that his insistence on the 'Way'is a plea to men (he has no time for women, who were clearly no more thanplaythings and servants in his time) to be of good character. By which heappears to mean, obey those set above you socially and politically. That a manso revered could be such a supporter of the tyranny of his time and yet accrue disciplesmerely serves to underline my own impression that there are those in societywho'll accept leadership and direction regardless of its merit or otherwise.Faith, in general, is an illustration of this.
It's likely that, in common with Buddha,Jesus and Mohammed, his actual words have been usurped and deliberatelydistorted to suit the ends of those who wished to make capital from his aura ofcelebrity. I found little to admire in the words I was offered here. Much,rather like the Qur'an, is banal, repetitive and uninspiring. There is a dealof meaningless, to the modern western mind, ceremonial and social reportagethat would require a deep knowledge of Chinese history to appreciate. I feltdisinclined to spend the time and effort necessary to extract any worthwhilemeaning from these passages, since the rest of the supposed words of wisdomwere, in fact, anything but.
So, it was, for me, a disappointingread. I can't recommend it. There are, however, a round ten short sayings thatcarry some resonance in the modern world and I'll happily spread those, in thehope that the reputation of the originator will, at least, lend some authorityto these aphorisms for those who might otherwise discount them out of hand.

Review of Breaking Faith

Breaking Faith has been recently reviewed on another blog. Click this link to read the review.

The Writing Week

Weary. Been a long week. But, then, it probably has been for you, too.
So, what have I been doing?
A new blog post - 7 common grammatical errors - scheduled for 15th March.
The first of a proposed series of debates, with an invitation to join the discussion. and taking the form of a chat between two invented characters. This week was on the subject of honesty and is posted below, if you'd like to join in.
8000 words of a short story written. Short story? Well, that's how it started out. I reckon there's another 1500 to go before it's finished.
But, to my regret, only 2 chapters of the NaNoWriMo novel edited this week.
There have been mitigating circumstances, with which I will not bore you.
Oh, and I updated the Writing Contests page, see the tab above if interested. That's actually quite a time consuming process, due to the research involved.
So, now, at just after 9.0 o'clock on Sunday evening, I think I'm ready for a rest.

The Debate Begins: Are You Up For It?

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Allow me to introduce myself: Theo: I believe inhonesty, truth, reason and equality. I'm rational, passionate, caring, neutraland considerative as well, I hope, as considerate. That's really all you needknow about me.
Hi there, I'm Dave. Opinion's the only thing thatcounts on the web. Mine's as valid as anyone's. I don't really care aboutanything enough to get involved but I like to put my point of view out there.I'm not consistent and sometimes I fight for the other side just for the hellof it; know what I mean? For me, this debating lark's just that: a lark. So,listen up, join in and have a go at both, either or neither of us.
Today, by way of introduction to the idea, we'regoing to discuss the question:
Is Honesty Absolute or Can it be Measured inDegrees?
Dave: Easy. You're either honest or you're not. Nodiscussion.
Theo: Not quite the spirit of the idea, Dave. But Iunderstand why you might say that. The problem, I think, is that 'honesty'covers such a wide range, encompassing so much within its definition.
Dave: You'll get used to this with Theo. He's agreat bloke but he loves his long words. If you mean there's a lot of stuff calledhonesty, why not just say so, Theo?
Theo: I thought I just did. But let's stick to thetopic at hand, shall we? For instance, is stealing something you'd includeunder the umbrella title?
Dave: I guess so, but let's not include it here.That's got to make a topic all on its own, surely?
Theo: Excellent. So, we'll consider the idea ofhonesty as a quality, a way of approaching life, shall we?
Dave: Sure.
Theo: Then I'll ask, is honesty the best policy?Which, I suppose, is where we should have started.
Dave: Good thought, Theo. Best policy? Well, dependshow you view life in general doesn't it? I mean, if you're honest, you're goingto have to pass up on all those chances fate chucks at your feet, aren't you?
Theo: Give us an example, Dave.
Dave: Okay. You're walking down the street and youcome across a small value note lying there. D'you pocket it or leave it, spendit or take it to the cops? If you're absolutely honest, you'd have to take itto the cops, wouldn't you?
Theo: Absolute honesty would demand that action,yes. But, let's consider the consequences. By taking this small note; we'll saya fiver if you're British or a $10 bill if you're from the States. The rest ofyou will, unfortunately, have to do the conversion to your own currency, if youdon't mind. So, you have this small amount of currency and you take it to thepolice. They take your details and you fill in a form and sometime in thefuture (after 30 days in UK), you get the call to say it's not been claimed andit's therefore yours, legally.
Dave: Sounds okay to me. But I'd not bother toreport something as small as a fiver.
Theo: You probably employ common sense in thisdecision, Dave. I know you're not a man who takes frivolous decisions. Thequestion expands into the discussion and consideration of consequences. Inreporting this small matter, you've used some of your own valuable time, causedthe duty officer at the police station to use time he might otherwise havespent more usefully in preventing crime, and probably used fuel in thejourneys. The latter, of course, means that you've added to the generalpollution of the planet, risked lives by driving further miles, and put moremileage on the clock of your car, thus reducing its value and bringing the timefor the service nearer. So, was this act of honesty actually worth it?
Dave: Like I said, I wouldn't bother for just afiver. And looks like you've decided you wouldn't, either.
Theo: So, would you do it for a tenner?
Dave: No.
Theo: Twenty?
Dave: Probably not. There's loads of them around.
Theo: Fifty?
Dave: Now you're talking. Yeah, I'd go to the botherfor a fifty.
Theo: And your reasons?
Dave: Well, for a start, I've never had a fifty myselfand I don't think many people have. Fifty's a lot to lose. You'd notice it,wouldn't you? The person who lost it might think it's worth bothering the copsto see if some honest person's reported it. So, yeah. Fifty's the startingpoint for me to record it. Anything from there up and I'd take it to the cops.
Theo: And you'd do this because you think it's themorally right thing to do, not because you think you might be in danger of beingaccused of theft if you failed to report it?
Dave: I don't think most people think like that.It's not mine, the cops won't be wasting their time, because someone's likelyto report it lost. So, it just makes sense to give it in. If no one claims it,you're fifty to the good and you can spend it with a clear conscience, can'tyou?
Theo: And you've been honest, into the bargain. Doyou think it was dishonest not to return the smaller notes?
Dave: Not exactly dishonest. It's about prioritiesand amounts, isn't it? I mean, we decided it wouldn't be worth if to anyone forunder a fifty. So, it's just common sense, really.
Theo: So, not a question of honesty, but one ofexpediency, then?
Dave: If you say so. Are we done with this one?
Theo: In the way that I think we can say thathonesty, in the sense it's used in everyday matters, isn't an absolute, but anattitude that encompasses such qualities as degree, common sense and personalpriorities. Thank you, Dave. I look forward to our next debate.
Dave: Yeah, right. And you lot out there readingthis, let's have your thoughts, eh? Have your say. That's what this is aboutafter all.

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 7

Breaking Faith is apaperback and an ebook. I'm posting individual chapters here, each week, sothat those who wish can read the book in full and free of charge.
If you missed the start,here's the link: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Chapter 1 appeared on 13January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via thearchive.
Read, enjoy, invite yourfriends.
Chapter 7
Friday 19th March
'You're a fool, girl. Alwayshave been, always will be. I've a mind to scourge that sin from you again. Whatdo you suppose we'll live on? Fresh air and your idiot pride?'Father had been angry since I had been out of workbut what had caused this particular outburst I did not know. He had made thebeating as humiliating as it was painful. The pride I had gained from Leigh wasgone. My back, bottom and thighs were still striped.Hope, at least, was better for my constantattention and I was pleased the redness and discharge had gone during the pastfew days. I assumed Father did not clean her properly, but dare not tell himuntil he was in a better mood.'I'll find another job, Father. But it won't beeasy with so many people out of work.'  'Of course it won't be easy, girl! You should'vethought of that before you insulted the wretched sinner. I've told you beforeto keep your fool's mouth shut. Who cares for the opinions of a stupid,ignorant maid like you? Nobody. Keep your words to yourself in future, or I'llflog you till I spill your blood.''Yes, Father.'Hope tossed her cover off again and I put down myencyclopaedia to fix it.'Leave her be. It's warm enough. She needs air tokeep her skin healthy. Why must you always be covering her up?''I just thought… well, she'll be nineteen soon,Father. I mean, is it seemly for her to be…?'Seemly? Seemly? There's only you and me here,girl. Hardly a public spectacle, is she? Leave her be and get me a cup of teaif you've nothing better to do. The Devil makes work for idle hands, you know.It's a shame you don't show such concern about me instead of insulting yourbosses every few minutes.'You've managed to get yourself banned by the mainemployer in the neighbourhood because you imagined some sort of assault. As ifa respectable man like Furnswurth's going to do a thing like that. As if anyman worth his salt is going to show a second's interest in an ugly, stupidstrip of a girl like you.'Now you've offended your new employer. What doyou suppose people are going to say about you? I'll tell you what, girl.They'll say you're unemployable. They already say you're an idiot. I workedhard to get Furnswurth to take you on, and what do you do in return? Insult theman and accuse him of an act he'd never commit. I gave you the benefit of thedoubt before, but I'm inclined to think you made it up, except you haven't thewits. If I thought you had, I'd give you a thrashing you'd not forget in ahurry, I can tell you. Obviously, you just misunderstood the man. Noweveryone's got you marked down as argumentative and troublesome. How you'regoing to get employment again, I don't know. We'll all starve. My word, butI've a good mind to whip your foolish hide off…''I'll make you a pot of tea, Father.' I dashedinto the kitchen and filled the kettle. With Father working himself up to atemper, being out of sight was the best way to avoid another belting on myalready sore skin. It was one thing to accept the righteous punishment for mysins but I didn't think I deserved another bout of penitence just yet.From the window over the sink, I frowned as a carpull in at the foot of the track. Only Father's friends from the chapel evervisited and they generally arranged in advance. In any case, none of them had acar like that. It looked just like Leigh's. I gasped as Leigh opened the cardoor and stepped out.Watching him approach up the rough track, Iallowed the kettle to overflow and spill cold water down my front. That alertedme to my state and I put the kettle on the stove and lit the gas before leavingthe kitchen.Father looked up from his book and stared at thewet patch spreading down the front of my old white underskirt. 'Where're yougoing, girl?''I've got to go and put…''Make the tea. I'll tell you when you can change.''But, Father there's a...''I can see the wet patch. Leave it. If you're coldand uncomfortable, all the better. You might be more careful next time.' Helicked his lips and swallowed as if his mouth was watering.'It's not that. I must go and change before….''Don't argue with me, girl!'His tone was dangerous and I had learned over theyears not to push him, especially in this mood. 'Sorry, Father. But I reallythink you …''Think? I don't care what you think!' He pushedhimself up out of his chair by the fire. 'You don't think. You're a fool, girl,an imbecile and an ugly, useless selfish one, at that. If it wasn't for myconstant vigilance, you'd be a whore like your mother and the rest of yoursex.' His hands were at the buckle of his belt.I was trapped. Leigh was almost at the door and Iwas in a skimpy black bra, more lace than fabric, and a short white underskirtmade transparent by water; my alternative housework clothes. I dare not arguemore with Father as he pulled the belt out of its loops. I retreated to the kitchen.The knock at the door was loud and Father couldnot ignore it. He was caught between replacing his belt, covering Hope, gettingme through the front parlour to the stairs and answering that insistent knock.I knew he would leave me in the kitchen until the visitor had gone, ifnecessary, even if that was all day. Hesitation brought a further knock and hereplaced his belt and went to open the door. In his anxiety, he pulled itharder than he meant to and it swung back rapidly, showing us all to a startledLeigh.I dashed from the kitchen to the stairs beforeFather had time to even greet him. I don't know why I paused at the foot of thestairs, but Leigh looked disturbed as he met my eyes. Then I was up the stairsand pulling on my skirt and jumper.When I returned to the parlour, the front door wasclosed and Leigh was standing on the mat, looking irritated as Father tried topull the quilt from under Hope so he could cover her. In other circumstances,the scene might have been comical, but Father's puritan stance coupled with mymodesty led only to embarrassment.'Stupid girl! How many times have I told you tokeep her covered, and not to go around half dressed yourself?'I wondered if Father's lie sprang from hisdesperate need to keep his reputation pure.Leigh glared at Father and then turned his gaze tome with an abrupt smile of what looked, incredibly, like pleasure. 'I'm sorryto intrude on your privacy. I'd like a quiet word with you, Faith, if you don'tmind?''She's sorry she argued with you, Mr Longshaw.She's a stupid girl and I've punished her, of course. I told her she doesn'tdeserve to be employed by a generous and respectable man like you. I mustapologize for her stupidity, but she…'Father halted as he realized Leigh was staring athim with utter contempt.'As I said, Mr Heacham, I'm here to speak withFaith.' He addressed his next question to me. 'Is there somewhere we can talk,Faith, please?''Only the kitchen, Leigh.' But his manner gave mecourage to ask. 'I expect my bedroom's out of the question?' I glanced atFather.'It shouldn't take long. Wherever you'll feel mostcomfortable; outside if you'd rather, though it's a bit cold.'To my amazement, Father nodded at the stairs,nodding more vigorously as I arched my eyebrows in question.'Please.' I pointed. 'Right, at the top of thestairs.'As always, my room was tidy and fresh. There wasso little in it that it took seconds to keep neat. Leigh waited for me to enterand suggested I close the door. I had to kick away the wooden wedge for thefirst time in years. Leigh took in everything with a sweeping glance and hisface clouded briefly before he smiled broadly at me.'First of all…''Please, Leigh, do sit down.'He perched on the edge of my narrow bed, pattingthe space beside him. 'I've come, first of all, to apologize for Friday.''I'm sorry, too, Leigh. I was unforgivably rude.''You were passionately vociferous, honest asalways, and frank in your opinions. Mistaken but not rude. I was harsh andunjust, and I'm sorry.''Thank you, Leigh. But there was no need…'He held up his hand and I fell silent, wonderingwhat he wanted.'Secondly, I want to thank you, Faith. Thank youfor all your hard work at Longhouse, but especially for doing a job, on yourown initiative, that I've put off far too long. You never said you'd written tothe bad debtors. On Tuesday, I had a reply from a couple and a third repliedtoday. All positive, all clearing their debts. I can only assume you used somesort of magic in your letters. You've brought in significantly more than yoursalary for the year.'He paused and I wondered if I was supposed to saysomething. I could think of nothing so I just nodded and smiled my uncertainty.'The main reason I'm here, Faith, is to offer youyour job back.'I jumped up, surprised, delighted; not believingmy great good fortune and about to accept the offer before it vanished.'Oh, I know I don't deserve you, but if I were tooffer you a pay rise, say ten, no, hang it, you're worth it, fifteen per cent,would you be willing to return? Please?'My mind reeled. I almost admitted I would go backwithout the extra money, but the thought of Father's anger appeased by theincrease stopped me. I blushed with guilt as I accepted. 'Thank you, Leigh; I'dbe delighted to return. But I think we should make some rules about certainthings.'He smiled and relaxed. 'I think we only needmutual respect for each other's positions. Do you think that would do it?''It'd be a starting point.''We'll have a good talk; see if we can't at leastunderstand each other's point of view?''I'll look forward to that.'He held out his hand and I placed mine in it andwe looked at each other until he let me go again. 'If you want, and you've time to wait for me toget ready, I can return with you now.''There's no need to rush, Monday would …''I'd really much rather start right now if Icould, Leigh.''I'd like that, too. I'll wait in the car.''I'm sorry to seem awkward, but would you mindwaiting downstairs? I promise I'll be no more than five minutes. I just needto… change my clothes.''Okay. Best change that wet underskirt and thatsexy black bra, eh?'I blushed again and he shook his head at me in away that made me feel he cared. He winked, a gesture I had seen given to othersbut never to me. 'Don't worry, I saw nothing I shouldn't. And don't be long.'Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.For the first time since Mother had left, Ichanged my clothes with my bedroom door shut.Father was standing awkwardly at the foot of Hope'sbed when I returned to the parlour. He had managed to cover her up. Leigh wasby the front door, impatient to leave.'I'm off to Longhouse, Father. Leigh's given meanother chance.''More accurate to say Faith's given me anotherchance, Mr Heacham. You have a remarkable daughter.'Father glanced at me and sneered. 'I know herbetter.'At the front door, I paused to collect my coatfrom the peg and faced Father. 'I'll be home, as usual, about six fifteen.''You'll be home just after five. I'll be givingyou a lift in future, work permitting. From time to time, you might have towait the odd half hour, morning or afternoon, but I'll still get you homeearlier than if you were walking.'I was about to protest but the expression onLeigh's face, coupled with Father's recent lecture about arguing, stopped me.'Thank you, Leigh, I'd really appreciate that.''You'll spoil the girl. She needs firm disciplineand…'He turned to face Father. 'What she needs,Heacham, is love. Allowing Faith to walk nine miles a day so she can work tosupport you and her sister, suggests a less than Christian attitude. I'm onlysorry I didn't realize sooner just what a strain it was on her. It's a pity youdidn't see fit to help her out.'Father opened his mouth to speak but no words cameout. Leigh waited for a few seconds before he opened the door and gently urgedme ahead of him.All the way down the track, Father's expression ofunspent rage at Leigh's accusation floated before me. I feared I might sufferon my return home, because of Leigh's criticism, but I had seen that Father wasnot the man I thought he was and that Leigh was a better man than I hadbelieved. I would never feel quite the same about either of them again.At the car, Leigh opened my door first and helpedme with the seat belt before he climbed in to drive. 'Will your father bewatching?''Why?''I'd like to give you a thank you kiss and welcomeyou back.''And you want his permission?''Your permission, Faith. It's his reaction andtreatment of you that worries me.'A kiss would be terrible, in Father's eyes. 'Canit wait until we're at Longhouse?''I'd rather have Abby jibe about me takingadvantage of an innocent virgin than risk your father's anger causing yousuffering. Yes, it can wait.'I tried not to let him know it was my firstjourney in a car, pretending hard to relax. 'Did Father say anything to you?''He insulted your intelligence again, made excusesfor the woman on the bed… your sister, Hope?''She suffers from a rare brain disorder. Theytried to operate when she was a baby but it went wrong. She has the mental ageof a year-old infant but the body of …. Well, you saw. She developed into theshape of a woman but she's never menstruated. Oh! Is it all right to say thatto a man?'He nodded. 'Better than being coy about it. Everywoman bleeds and I prefer the proper term to any of the multitude ofeuphemisms. I've noticed that about you, Faith. Most people call body parts andfunctions by anything other than the right name, but you always use the correctmedical term.''That's all I know. It's what I read in myencyclopaedia or what Father says.''Is Hope's lack of body hair natural?''It just never grew.''And is she always naked?''Father says it's better for her skin to have theair to it. And it's easier if she has an accident, you know. She has a nappy inthe night and I take her to the toilet morning and last thing, of course. Itmakes washing and oiling her simpler.''Faith Heacham, you're amazing. Absolutelyamazing.'He pulled the car up at the side of the road. Wewere well out of sight of the cottage and out of the village. There was no oneabout. He leant across and kissed my cheek. 'Abso-bloody-lutely amazing.' Andhe drove off again.I touched my cheek. His lips had brushed my skinso lightly it was almost as if I had imagined it, but the sensation was lovely.If that was kissing, no wonder people enjoyed it.'Faith, I know you respect the privacy of othersand I know you value privacy for yourself. But I also know how honest and openyou are. May I ask you a personal question? I have my own very good reasons forasking but you don't have to answer if you'd rather not.'Leigh did not normally go around the houses so Iwondered what he wanted to know. 'Ask away.''Do you normally wander around the house dressed…like that?'I thought he might ask me to do the same atLonghouse. 'At home I do. Father won't have me ruin my office clothes by doinghousework in them. And, of course, with there being only him and Hope there itdoesn't matter how I'm dressed, does it?''Perhaps not. Has your father ever touched you, inthe way Furnswurth did when…?''Leigh! He wouldn't. He wouldn't ever do a thinglike that. He said I should never let a man see or touch my breasts or mybottom or my genitalia, because it's sinful and makes men lust for the flesh.He said I mustn't show my body because men'll think I'm offering it to them.''But it's okay to be naked or half dressed infront of him? He won't lust after your flesh?''He's my father, Leigh. He's a Christian. He'drather die than do anything like that! No, Leigh. He'd never, ever touch melike that. In fact, apart from when… well, he never touches me at all, really.'Leigh looked at me curiously; he knew I had beenabout to tell him something. 'What did he mean about you being punished, by theway?'The beatings were humiliating and, as Father hadmade clear, they were private; between him and me and God. There was no needfor anyone else to know about his attempts to save my soul from damnation.'He …er …I think that's private, really. A familything, you know?''I see.'It was hard to imagine anyone putting so muchmeaning into two words. I felt he did see, all too well. I no longer feltcertain about what I should tell him. Something inside me wanted him to knoweverything about the life I shared with Father. But another part of me wantedto keep the whole thing private and hide it from him forever. It was impossible to decide which was right andthe only way to stop the argument going round and round inside my head was tochange the subject. I said the first thing that came to me. 'I've missed you,Leigh. That is, I've missed working at Longhouse.'We were driving up the lane toward the gate and Iwanted to get out to open it, but I had no idea how to unfasten the seat belt.Leigh looked at me as the car slowed to a halt.'You're a funny lass, Faith. I've missed you, too. Welcome back.'He twisted to unfasten my seat belt but I held myface ready, expecting another kiss. He shook his head at me before he kissed mycheek again as he unclipped the belt. 'God, but you're a puzzle, you are.Intriguing and fascinating. Go on, hop it and open the gate, wench.'He had called me that before. I had no idea whatit meant, but he said it with such good humour that I smiled and did as I wastold. He was still shaking his head at me and smiling as he drove in throughthe gate.
###
I'm pleased that you wantto read the book. But if you can't wait for next week's instalment, check thelinks below. They'll let you buy it as either a paperback or an ebook,depending on your preference.Those who live in EastRiding of Yorkshire can borrow the book from your local library.
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