The thrub thrub thrub, of the motor, which suddenly cut out when the fuel was exhausted. That was when every one dived for cover. I also remembered th...t I was standing in the high street when one crashed and exploded just three hundred yards away. From my earliest days I had grown up with the bombing. It was a normal part of life for me.My old house, the house in which I was actually born was still there, perhaps looking a little better than my memory of it would suggest. We walked down the. I raced to the fence."Oh Wiggles," she said, "are you glad to see me?"And then she burst into tears. After a little fumbling with the gate while I ran around in circles, she came into the yard. She dropped her books and hugged me as tight as she ever had in her life. I licked at the tears before they even stopped. They finally stopped, though. She laughed, without meaning it. She often did when she didn't think that she should have been crying. She picked up her books. I took a quick sniff at. " I directed her attention back to the bar.He held it up and she marched over to retrieve it. I buried my nose back in the book I was reading. It was a few minutes later that I became conscious that she was once again looming over me at the table."Pablo says you carried me home last night," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry I yelled." No problem." I gave her my most facile smile and looked back down at where my finger had marked my place in the text."Tracy Scott."I looked up to see her hand. He hadn’t seen his daughter’s bare pudenda since she was 8 years old, and that was a blunder, then. Not that he was to blame for this fuck-up; he couldn’t possibly know his daughter wore no underwear. “Fuck,” he muttered again.Had she fucked on the couch? In front of all her friends? Had she just not bothered putting on panties when she got dressed? He was now certain her bra was undone under her shirt, too. Was she responsible for that as well? Or was the somebody who removed her underwear.