Vicky looked around my living room as I opened the wine and found some glasses.‘Is this your Dad?’ Vicky asked pointing at a photograph.‘No, tha...’s my husband!’ I laughed.‘God, sorry Sophia!’ Vicky said in horror.‘Don’t worry, he’s an accountant, they all look that age. Besides, he’s 10 years older than me. And boring!’ I said, a little harshly.‘Why do you stay with him then?’ Vicky said, following me into the conservatory and settling next to me on the sofa with a glass of wine to hand.‘I. .. I ... I havenever ... I never wanted ...." My tongue tied itself into a knot.She seemed almost pitying, as she looked straight at me. Her voicewas sorrowful yet still somehow loving. "Sweetheart, I know. Iknew even at the time. I forgave you then and I forgive you now. This isn't really about breasts, not mine nor yours nor hers. It'sabout feeling confident. I have to be sure of you. Like I said, Ineed insurance!" Insurance?" I had to seem not to understand her. I now saw howthis. More

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