“I am so sorry, sis. I didn’t mean to get your shirt wet. If you wait here I can get you a new one.” I moved to my closet. I grabbed th... first one I saw, a beautiful red silk number. “I will wait in the hall ‘til I know you’re okay.” “Really, Ceres. You don’t have to do that. It’s fine. It’ll dry in no time on its own.” “Just put it on please.” As I handed her my shirt she looked at me strangely, fingering the smooth material. Perhaps she. This month of September, 1939 was speeding by so quickly that I was staggered at the wind shear of global conflict. Country after country lined up on this side or that and then there was those that sat on the fence and tried their best not to fall off on one side or the other because the view below was shrouded in fog.The trams and buses ran up and down the street uninterested in the foolish machinations of mankind.People went to work, to school and to bureaucratic Offices under the control of. John crosses the street, smiling as ‘Bags’ Gibaldi gets out of the car, he’s one of Franks’ top sub-bosses and his show of respect by exiting the car is a sign of how much importance Guy Franks must put on John. His nickname is ‘Bags’ as he made his entry into the local organised criminal fraternity by lifting bags of valuables from people in the train and bus depots or hotels, he had a knack of knowing which were the best to steal. Most people now call him Mr Gibaldi. John says, “Good morning,. Each of these images woke her up suddenly, dripping, until her white pyjama top was see-through, with cold sweat.As she climbed wearily out of bed and headed for the bathroom, Hanna started thinking of people she could call to voice her concerns about the previous night. Oh yes, she recognised she needed help, but the problem was where to get it. Who would listen to her? Family members wouldn't take it seriously. They'd laugh it off and wind her up for being "grossed out" by her parents having.