Dodie lay on the bed nursing her chin while Kitty stood beside her father, who had an upraised hand. ‘It wasn’t me, Daddy! It was her? I didn’t,...Daddy. I didn’t. Don’t beat me! Don’t bugger me again like last time!’ ‘Is that true?’ Mr Giles demanded of Dodie. ‘It isn’t!’ Dodie replied assertively, tears unconsciously welling in her eye. ‘I was lying in bed, and she came and joined me. I told her not to, but she insisted.’ ‘You liar!’ Shrieked Kitty. ‘It was you! You came into the bedroom while. The skirt of the dress ran to mid-thigh, stretching elastically from her waist around the curves of her slender thighs. The top was a raggedy artwork of randomly crossed strips, plunging from the shoulder and stretching across the bodice, taut against her breasts. Her smooth arms were bare and triangles of honey-toned flesh - shoulder-blade and cleavage - were visible through the garment’s bandaging. She looked an exquisite fetishized doll. Miranda was nowhere to be seen, her jacket and bag. More

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