“She’s not my mum any more, you know?”We moved on along a rough track among the trees. “She’s never said anything about my dad, you know?”...��Have you got a birth certificate?”She stopped suddenly. “Do you know, I’ve never seen it? I suppose it must have been among the rubbish when her flat was cleared, if mum kept it at all.”“That’s something to look into; you need one for all sorts of reasons. We can get a certified copy – or two – at the Register Office.” We got to the top end of that bit of. I tell her: ‘He’s mainly renovating that big house of his on the lakeside. He’s putting in a Tennis court.... He's building it himself’‘That is so cool.’She falls silent. Drifting into sleep.I lay quiet for a little while, disconcerted by her excited high pitched ‘Stevie!’ and ‘That’s so cool!’ I really don’t like the idea of her and ‘Stevie’. Whatever her and ‘Stevie’ might turn out to be. It scares me. But I really want her to be a hotwife. So I feel it would be wrong to discourage her. More

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