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“The cheeky fucking bastard,” she thought defensively, “He couldn’t just politely ignore it...” She stopped herself, something didn’t fee... right. His fingers kneaded her belly and she felt a distinct numbness, a lack of sensation. Panic began to rise as he moved his hand then slid it round her back, inside her dress. She looked on in horror as the shape of his hand snaked under the fabric around her ample belly until stopped, seemed to dig and then pulled it away, almost as quickly as he’d put. It dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, I had fallen for my image of Abi, a construction of what I thought she would be and should be. Perhaps, I was enchanted by a mirage that did not exist; possessed by Ruritanian fantasy that was no more real than the fairies at the end of the garden. Or was it possible that it was her flaws that attracted me, as much as her strengths, and that I wanted her not despite of her past but because of it? Perhaps I was attracted to her because she was complicated. More

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