Frank liked a short nap after Sunday dinner, it set him up for his shift, and helped his digest system recover from the assault of his wife’s cooking; not that Maureen was a bad cook — far from it — but she seemed intent on making up for all the meals he had missed during his service. Always careful of his spouse’s opinion, and all too aware of the sacrifices she had made, Frank burrowed his way through the food she piled upon his plate. The old soldier was just nodding off when she called from downstairs, “Frank, your Miss Weston has updated her page!”

Sunday 13th April 2008

Thanks everybody, and take care.

“She’s a lovely girl isn’t she?” Maureen took a bite of cake, “look at her sitting in that little red sports car - gorgeous legs too — you should invite her round for tea when Colin’s home on leave.”

“Given up on grandchildren have you?” Frank shot her a wry grin.

“We’ve three other boys, dear, and none of their girlfriends will make a decent daughter-in-law.”

“You’d best ask him before matchmaking love,” finding out that his youngest son was gay had been a blow Frank never thought he would recover from, but Colin was a fine Marine, and a fine officer too, “she’d look grand on his arm though.” With an artful wink Frank stole the last piece of cake from his wife’s plate, silencing her protest with a wolfish grin.

“C’mon Daisy Duke, the coast is clear,” Penny watched her young friend slip warily from Brenda’s passenger side, “now let’s get this shopping in the fridge, and we’ll call your Mum and Dad.”

“We left all my new clothes in Mitzi,” Stevie’s pout was as perfect as any teenage girl’s, but brightened considerably when Penny promised to go back for them, once the telephone call had been made. Trying not to pay too much attention to the denim clad bottom skipping towards the front door, Penny followed with the groceries bought the day before. She was uncertain that she would prove an effective substitute mother, but ensuring the young brunette eat properly was a start. Hopefully Stevie’s Mum would soon relieve her of the responsibility, a thought so tinged with unexpected regret that Penny almost collided with the girl, who had stopped dead in the open doorway.

“Who the Hell are you, and what have you done to my son?” a vein pulsed visibly at Mrs Weston’s temple; standing only a foot or so inside the door, she tried to slap Penny, who only narrowly avoided being struck by ducking. “Look at him Ted, look what this bitch has done to Steve!”

“Mum, it’s not...” Stevie’s mother was beyond placating, and continued to exhort her husband into some action. Ted Weston kept to the sofa, eyes darting from his raging wife, to the startled stranger, and the slim feminine figure that stood between them. “Dad, tell her...”

“Janet, let them come in, and shut the door, we don’t want half the town listening,” his patient tone went some way to mollifying his wife, who stepped back into the living room.

“Mr and Mrs Weston, this must be...” Stevie’s mother repeated her earlier demand, “sorry, I’m Penny Hawker, a friend of...” Penny paused, how should she refer to Stevie, ‘son’ seemed too incongruent, “a friend from work. You must be wondering what’s been happening.”

Janet was on the verge of releasing another stream of invective, when her husband’s stepped forward to take her arm. "Let the lady speak, Jan, or we’ll never get to the bottom of this.”

“Nobody has done anything to me, I’ve been like this for years,” Stevie moved protectively in front of Penny, “I was just too afraid to tell you!”

“Nonsense!” Janet Weston was working herself back into a fury, “you are normal, this perverted cow has obviously been brainwashing you. Call the police Ted, there must be a law about this sort of thing.”

“If anyone’s calling the police, I’m sure they’d be interested to know just how you got in here.” Penny placed an arm around Stevie, who was noticeably shaken by the threat, “don’t worry, there’s no law like that honey,” Penny whispered in her ear.

“We are guarantors on the lease for this flat, and as such the landlord gave us a key,” Mr Weston began slowly, “I always said you were too young to leave home Steve, perhaps if you moved back...”

“We’d make sure this sicko would never bother you again,” Stevie flinched from what her mother thought was a reassuring smile, “go take those clothes off, and we’ll take you home.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Stevie’s voice was little more than a whisper, “they can’t make me can they?”

“No one can make you go anywhere sweetie,” Penny stroked the young woman’s arm, “maybe if we all sat down, and talked things over...”

“Talk things over?” Janet spat the words like a cobra, “with the woman who’s turned my son into a sissy whore, what’s to say, ‘do you have any more pansy children I can fuck’?” Penny fought to contain her own temper, she could handle the slights directed her way, but how could a parent say such things to their child? She tightened her embrace around Stevie, carefully preparing her words, but it was Stevie’s father who spoke next.

“We’d better go, I don’t think we’re achieving anything here,” he brushed past them to open the front door, “come on Jan, before you do something you’d regret.”

It had taken another ten minutes to drag Mrs Weston from the flat, which she filled with yet more bile and venom. Penny had covered Stevie’s ears to prevent her from hearing the terrible insults her mother was hurling, but she knew that some at least had hit home. When her parents had eventually left, Stevie flopped down onto the sofa, head in her hands.

“She didn’t mean those things,” Penny stroked the young woman’s back, “it was temper talking, she loves you really.”

“Mum was right,” she did not look up, “I’m a freak, and a pervert. Why am I like this? It’s not fair.” Penny watched several sobs wrack Stevie’s body, but there were no tears.

“It’s not fair honey, but it’s not your fault,” Penny patted her knee, almost overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness, “and you’re not a freak, or a pervert; you’re lovely.” Stevie almost launched herself into her friend’s arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, and words tumbling from her lips.

“Do you really mean that? Do you?” Penny made encouraging noises while Stevie wept herself out, rubbing her back, and kissing her forehead. Her tear streaked face emerged after fifteen minutes, announcing in a peculiarly detached monotone, “that’s it; I can’t go back can I? Steve’s dead.”

“I think you knew that before,” at last she had accepted the truth, but Penny wished it had come a kinder way, “but it’s not the end of the world; your Mum and Dad love you, they’ll see that soon, I promise.” Just how she could effect that reconciliation troubled her, perhaps Bob Thornwell could intervene; he was a friend of the family, if that still counted for anything.

“Where are you going?” Stevie clung to Penny’s arm.

“I’m just going to the kitchen to make us a cup of something hot, then Missy I’m drawing you a bath. A long soak will do you a power of good.” A week before there had been no one in Penny’s life who really depended on her, no one who was sorry to see her go. It had never been something she regretted, her job had always come first, but now she could not help feeling that a void had been filled, “and then you can find a nightie for me, I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”