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Jane: a second Penny found.

Whilst steering with one hand I opened the folded paper with the other. There were just a couple of lines of Jane's neat handwriting which read 'I'd like you to do all the things that you did to Susan Blair with me; especially the special thing with your tongue which she won't describe but says is the best thing ever'

I read it twice: I'd not seen Susan in over a year and I'd no idea that she worked in the same company as Jane; but I remembered exactly what Jane's note referred to: Susan was not what you'd term a 'nice girl' Looking up and across toward Jane again I could see the 'sugar wouldn't melt' smile was still firmly fixed; but the glint in her eye could have been her Aunt Sarah's; it was raunchy. At this point I finally took a quick glance out of the windscreen; how long since I'd last looked I can't say, but we were now on the wrong side of the road and on collision course with a large truck!

My response was to scream "Christ; No!" whilst swerving back to the left, slowing down and pulling into an adjacent lay-by. I took a few seconds to recover my composure; then I looked across to Jane who'd collapsed in a flood of tears. I shrugged off my seat belt and leant across to comfort her and soothingly whispered something like "Hey, calm down: we're alright."

"Are we? It doesn't feel like it from were I'm sitting; you bastard!"

"That's hardly fair; you're the one who distracted me: besides we missed it and nobody's hurt"

"Missed what?" she sniffled

"The truck"

"What truck?"

That threw me "The big fucking red one that almost squashed us!"

"Oh: it's a pity it missed."

This wasn't right; "Jane did you notice the truck?"

"No! I'm not interested in it either"

"Then why are you crying."

"Why do you think?"

"Well, I thought it was because you'd been frightened by the truck; but that's obviously wrong"

"I've said; I didn't see a truck!"

"Well then; why are you upset?"

"Because you don't care about me and you think I'm ugly and you're obviously seeing someone else and you haven't even got the decency to be nice about it and... and... and I don't know: I just hate you!"

Where the fuck had this come from? "Whoa; calm down love; could you try to explain slowly; in words of one syllable then perhaps I'll understand"

"My present; you said it could be anything; I tried to tell you on Thursday and again last night; I just couldn't; I was embarrassed; that's why I wrote it down: You keep saying it's 'because you respect me' and 'we'll talk about it when I'm eighteen' but I don't want 'respecting' anymore. You've done it with Susan Blair and half the other girls in the area: what's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you: I've never suggested that there was"

"It doesn't sound like it. I finally pluck up the courage to tell you what I want and how do you answer: 'Christ No!' it's hardly very reassuring is it?
I collapsed laughing; even though it was only fuelling Jane's anger; I couldn't help myself: she was by now bright red and clearly within seconds of violence; it was a struggle but I regained at least a hint of control. "Jane; sorry; no listen; the 'Christ No' wasn't directed at you; that was my response to seeing the bloody truck not your note"

"What truck?"

We were back where we'd started; but at least I now recognised that we'd been having two separate conversations and was able to explain things to Jane; though to this day Jane still disputes that there was ever any truck.

I wasn't actually there for Jane's birthday; a racing commitment had taken me to Belgium and I couldn't possibly get back until sometime on the Monday afternoon.

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