Dad passed away when I was twenty one. My younger brother went into the Navy and my older brother had been drafted into the Army, leaving me totally a...one for the first time.But I had a job, a medical deferment, a decent income, and I didn't need a soul, or so I thought.When I got the call to come up to the farm for my two week vacation, I accepted almost instantly, forgetting plans I had previously contemplated.When I got there, I was sadly diappointed because all my "cousins" were now hanging. “Good God,” I said, “I think I know you! I mean, I think I know who you are. You’re Angela Sable.” She smiled. “I am, but how did you know? Someone in the village, perhaps?” “No, no. I have three of your pieces. They’re among my favourites.” “Ah, you are a collector?” “In a modest way. I always wanted to be a sculptor but I lacked that vital ingredient called talent. I’m Martin Booth, by the way, and this disreputable animal is Trotsky.” “Pleased to meet you, Trotsky.” She laughed out loud as. More

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