”“I believe we both enjoy Mr. Critchley s trust,” I replied, “I just need some hard evidence.” I picked up her bag again and began rummagin... through it, ignoring Alison s protests. In the front pocket was a scrunched up Victoria Wine bag. I opened it up and rummaged inside. I pulled out a crumpled receipt, on closer examination it was a credit card slip “Dr. PhilipJohnson, that s your father isn't it. You re a signatory on his card aren’t t you?” I knew the answer to this, Alison was always. Simply dressed in a faded denim jacket, black leggings and grubby trainers. On her shoulder hangs a white PVC bag. The word 'SLUT' in huge black letters has been scribbled on the bag. At 18 years old she should have grown out of her selfish disposition but she looks grumpy and resentful, still very much a teenager.We are in a remote part of Melbourne, close to the sea. Large detached houses stand among ancient elm trees. The metal gate protects a house that seems to be made entirely of glass. More

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