My mother went to the bath. She turned the taps to cut off the flow, rinsing her arm in the process. Then she picked up her robe to dry off her hands....“Oh, I knew it would,” my mother informed me as she dropped the robe. “Or at least I was always going to try.”With the heat off me I was capable of coherent thought, guilt sliding in. “You know this is wrong,” I said, a statement not a question.My mother gave a half-shrug. She grimaced and said, “Only if we let it be wrong,” she said, confronting. "Well, Abbie," Miss Barnard smiled thinly, "welcome to your first day at Bellevue Home For Retired Gentlefolk. I trust that your time with us will be a productive one." Thank you, Miss Barnard," said the youngster shyly, addressing her new boss as if she were a teacher - even though Abbie had left school two years ago. Miss Barnard did not disabuse her of the notion."Now Abbie," continued Miss Barnard, "as with most care work, the wages we pay are shockingly poor. However, you will find that. More

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