The golden rule in our peer group is to never divulge information to your parents as information = ammunition, and they have quite enough of their own already. So my father's assumption that I could go live with Assumpta was justifiable in his eyes but certainly not in mine. Assumpta Fahy, window to my past and to my soul. She was and I would imagine still is Dingle’s most-wanted woman. Assumpta did not merit this title without earning it. Born to an Irish father and a Swedish mother she seemed to inherit a lethal cocktail of genes. Part wild child and dreamer, part seductress, and temptress>When God created Eve he must also have had Assumpta in mind. She could make any man meet his Waterloo which of course she did. Her arrival was to change the social topography in Dingle forever. Assumpta was to become to Dingle what Nelson Mandela was to South Africa. Her mission was to fight repression albeit of a different kind by attempting to overthrow the traditional moral values that she felt choked and shackled Irish sexuality. Her ambition was largely fuelled by her Swedish uninhibited and pioneering nature.
Her father Jack, a staunch practising Catholic, was determined to save his daughter's soul. He was hoping to counteract her somewhat promiscuous Swedish education by entrusting her to his sister, the Mother Superior in Colaiste Muire. Mother Carmel a.k.a Granite Face was a human force to be reckoned with. She regarded her vocation as God given thus granting her the ecumenical license to become an unchallenged dictator in her own little kingdom. Her convent boarding school was an Academy for young ladies and until Assumpta arrived it had an excellent reputation. Mother Carmel enforced the 3 D’s: Discipline, Dilligence and Duty believing that girls souls were saved by channelling their pubescent energy into study, sport and a vast array of extra curricular activities. The devil can only tempt those with idle hands and idle minds. If only she knew that her philosophy was about to be challenged and changed forever. You see by the time Assumpta arrived in Dingle she was already a Lolita with no normal moral restraints. It was too late to turn back the clock. There was nothing Mother Carmel or anyone else could do—Assumpta was already contaminated and about to infect all those she came into close contact with.
Contaminate us she did slowly but surely. For a start Assumpta was put sitting beside me in class (only because Mother Carmel regarded me as a ‘’suitable good girl’’) and sleeping beside me in the dormitory. I guess I didn’t stand a chance!
I fell in love with Assumpta, not the usual teenage crush that can happen between similar sexes but an idolatry form of love. I adored her—she was everything I was not. They say opposites attract. I was a good Irish Catholic girl, studious of a somewhat subdued and melancholic disposition, very west coast Irish looks: auburn hair, freckles, never get a sun tan face, and the Kate Moss emaciated look. At least I was then. Assumpta on the other hand was not a ‘’good’ girl—she was brought up as a free spirit, allowing her to develop an effervescent and fearless nature. At 15 she was already well developed for her age with sculpted Scandinavian features, cropped blond hair, porcelain skin and Cameron Diaz to die for blue eyes. She was a Goddess. If she was Jen from Dawson’s Creek then I was a watered down version of Joey—not strong enough to be as full fledged as she is because I was not old enough or experienced enough to have fortified moral defences. I was more like a country ripe for invasion. Assumpta came, she saw and she conquered.
Assumpta seemed to breathe life into my otherwise drab and monotonous school existence. She likened me to a comatose sleeping beauty while she was akin to the prince whose mission was to arouse me to the secrets and treasures of pubescent womanhood. Her words were manna to my impoverished and naive soul. I believed her! Looking back, our friendship was given tacit approval by all and sundry—especially my parents. As caretaker of her daughter’s virginity you would have thought my Mother would have enough discerning ability to spot the signs but she didn’t. Two reasons, she was Mother Carmel’s niece and she was filthy rich. They say that love is blind but in my mother’s case it’s money. She only has to see the pound signs and immediately the shutters go down immunising her to reality. Needless to say she adored Assumpta. ‘’You never know who you’d meet through Assumpta, nice suitable boys’’ (meaning rich boys) My poor misguided Mother thinks that wealth is transferred by osmosis. Those of you out there who believe that money is the root of all evil should have confronted my Mother but you didn’t. And so my fate was sealed. Assumpta Fahy was allowed to march into my life and was all but given permission to create a sexual Frankenstein.
I guess I was one of the few who got to know the real Assumpta. Her saving grace was her butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth looks, her coquettish charm and her phenomenal powers of deception. Even when she did get caught lady luck smiled on her and even laughed hysterically. The first time she was caught smoking in the bike shed she was pardoned for being Swedish. When she was caught snogging the caretaker’s son in the nearby woods WE were asked to pray for HER. Assumpta was willing to do and try anything. She told us that bondage equated rules that needed to be broken if the spirit sought liberation. She was of course testing the water and realised soon enough that the Gods and the nuns were truly on her side.
At night- time a few of us would gather in her cubicle and listen to her theories and stories. For pubescent girls boys were a total fascination. At that age we would have been in love with the idea of love itself. That was all we needed until Assumpta told us otherwise. She had already done IT twice with her first cousin Leo in his parent’s bed. We feigned shock at her revelation but I had a secret vicarious pleasure upon hearing her talk. The details of her love life, reserved for the following night were guaranteed to grant her a larger audience.
Soon there were up to 12 of us listening and hanging onto her every word. Her sexy broken English made it all sound so wonderful and exciting and not at all dirty and sordid (which of course it was) She said that sex was like eating Haagen Daaz ice cream. Its sheer unadulterated pleasure could only be fully appreciated by those who savoured it. Her lessons in the art of sexual ecstasy continued night after night. She gave us information on erogenous zones that we never even knew existed to French kissing and heavy petting—no detail was spared. She taught us that sex was a natural bodily function, our second strongest instinct to survival. We sat agog-with total fascination and concentration. Assumpta seemed to know everything and to have done far more than we would have even dared to do. Her theories conflicted with what we were brought up to believe about the male / female relationship. Consequently question time was heated but somehow, someway, she made her ideas seem plausible and acceptable to those of us who desperately wanted to believe.
For instance Assumpta felt that neither man nor woman was destined to be monogamous. ’’Swans mate for life but not humans,’’ she would say. "'Til death us do part‘’ only applied to previous ages when the average life span was 35, just before a woman reached her sexual peak. Now that she lives longer and moves into her sexual peak woman’s needs and wants change. ‘'Variety is the spice of life‘.' 'Familiarity breeds contempt.’ Needless to say the naive and gullible amongst us swallowed the whole philosophy—as an alternative it sounded so much more exciting.
It wasn’t long before Assumpta went on the prowl at weekends, masquerading as a 20-year-old to get into the hotel night -club. She was careful never to get caught which of course she didn’t. She boasted about men who were old enough to be her father, married men who would slip her the odd £20 for the occasional grope and poke. She made it all seem so matter of fact and pretty soon she had enough ammunition to destroy the pillars of Dingle’s society. She said the power to do just that was an aphrodisiac in itself. At 16 she felt I was ready to begin my sexual adventures. Assumpta had me well—tutored, supplying me with the necessary precautions. Assumpta imported condoms from one of her mother’s Swedish magazines. The boxes periodically arrived by post to the convent. Can you believe it? If that were me I would have been caught, strip-searched, stoned and then expelled. Not Assumpta.
She had no fear, partly due to her lack of conscience and partly because she believed sex was her God given right. The nuns were told it was her homeopathic medicine for her allergies. (She was allergic to meatballs, tapioca and any inedible foodstuff she hated.) Sister Louise would smile benignly as she handed over the little brown box. In the meantime, Assumpta was always given alternative food by the cook who fussed over her like a mother hen—we had no choice. I would like to state here that I was never jealous of her, as I was too much in awe of her. It was rather like watching a child knocking down sandcastles while envying her the freedom to do so.
I clearly remember that day as it was the feast of the Epiphany and I was due to sing in the girl’s choir in the convent church. I was there alright but not in the church itself. I was in the basement beneath the church with Eamonn the caretaker’s son—nice body, shame about the face, flaming red hair and freckles) Assumpta decided he was the chosen one for me but I thought it was only because she had already tested him and he had passed the M.O.T. Normally Eamonn is the sort of guy who would either have to pay for sex or invest in a rubber doll. Instead he found himself being offered a virgin and fervently now believed that prayers to Saint Anthony are answered on the feast of the Epiphany. If I were stone cold sober I would have made a sharp exit and sang my heart out to God and all his angels. But I was semi-conscious with the help of a few vodkas, which took the edge off my panic and trepidation about the whole ordeal. I felt I was heading into uncharted territories without a compass. I knew technically how to do it but not emotionally.
While the girls above me sang Nearer My God to Thee, I never felt so bloody far away from him in all my life. Eamonn, bless his simple heart had created a love nest with two itchy and scratchy blankets that I am sure had a family or two of fleas. At that stage they were the least of my worries which at the time were: a) I could get caught b) I could hate it, then I’d have to be a lesbian. c) I could get pregnant—as I have freckles myself I wouldn’t dream of actually mating with a guy like Eamonn –Call me shallow and insincere if you want but I have a deep rooted fear of producing a Dalmatian and there is a real possibility of me rejecting such a baby. I took a deep breath and cast my fears aside. It was now or never.
As it was my first time I believed Eamonn to be as inexperienced as myself. I had no great expectations. I have since learned never, ever to judge a book by its cover. Some people are not at all as they seem. Despite the fact that Eamonn had a face even a mother would have been hard pressed to love, he was to turn out to be a considerate lover. 6 out of 10. Now either Assumpta had given him some practical lessons on erogenous zones or he was born to pleasure women. I had psyched myself up for it to be over and done with as quickly as possible—you know: job done—seal broken. Eamonn however had other ideas. Normally extremely loquacious my vocabulary was reduced to that of a constipated chipmonk. ‘‘Yes, no, maybe so’’.
I crawled under the blankets to take off my clothes (you know, once a Catholic, always a Catholic). Eamonn must have been born without any inhibitions. He quickly discarded his clothes and stood there smiling. His face was flush with excitement. I secretly relished the effect I had on him and I smiled. He took that as an invitation to join me on the blanket. We started to kiss and to gradually become acquainted with each other’s bodies. He eased himself down slowly on top of me. What was next? Thankfully Eamonn initiated all the moves. I was at least half his body weight and fair play to his peasant heart he assiduously avoided crushing me. Ideally I should have been on top but I guess not for the first time. I reached over to my bag and gave him a condom. His hands were so sweaty he couldn’t open the plastic foil. He fumbled and fumbled until I took it from him and tore it open with my teeth being careful not to rip the only thing between me and orange freckled children.
Ready for action, Eamonn became the explorer whose mission was to find where to put it.
I lay back and thought about next week’s maths test. He prodded and poked until I felt bruised and battered. Time for me to join the action. I guided him ever so slowly and gently into the part of me that at this stage was screaming out for exposure. One sharp intake of breath and he was in. He started to move and I felt my insides both tear and melt at the same time. Pleasure, Pain, Pleasure, Pain, In, Out, In, Out, In, Out.—the hooded invader rasping against unyielding walls until there was an explosion of natural lubricants leaving only pleasure. Eamonn had great stamina. He went on and on and on and on bringing me to peaks of pleasure Haagen-Daz could never reach.
Unfortunately, I was forced to internalise my cries of passion, being painfully aware of the service taking place overhead. I could vaguely hear Father Cullen droning from the pulpit. Inside I was singing, ‘’Oh yes-yes yes–YES!’’ From now on the world was going to be a different place. I had been to paradise and there was no way I was leaving it.
The following day I basked in post coitus satisfaction and only momentarily had a crisis of conscience. This was because I had forgotten to thank Eamonn for services rendered. My feelings were overwhelming—I knew I was not in love with Eamonn (perish the thought) but I was desperately in lust. Assumpta said this was a very good sign. I had tasted the gifts of love and I wanted more. She said it’s a bit like Pringles—that once you pop you just can’t stop. It wasn’t long after this that I finally started to grow and develop. I went from a 32 A to a 34C insuring me instant popularity with the Dingle lads. Now I had the body of Kate Winslett before she appeared in the Titanic. I wish I could say I found my Leonardo but that would be pushing the boat out in Kerry.
It wasn’t for the want of trying. But I needed experience if I wanted to perfect my love making techniques and for that I needed a selection of bodies.
After Eamonn there was Frank. He was 26 and worked in a meat processing plant in Tralee. This relationship lasted the longest (2 months) and really only ended when Frank decided to pursue his education and become a Christian Brother. As a vegetarian he abhorred having to handle carcasses at their various stages of decomposition. The brotherhood was his passport to free education and a career. My heart was broken. Frank was my ideal man: dark, sallow skin, broad shouldered with firm taut buttocks. He had long black matted hair with a scar on his face. He was my one and only Heathcliff. As Frank was to take his vow of celibacy very seriously he told me that we could have a platonic relationship. What use was that? I had plenty of platonic friends to talk to and hold hands with if necessary.
I stayed distraught for all of 3 days until I met Mike and John and Stephen and ----. Assumpta and I trailed through Dingle in search of prey. We did not feel used and abused, not when we were in charge doing the using and abusing ourselves. We were the girls about town, having a reputation to live up to. Sometimes, not too often, on the morning after the night before I would lay prostrate on my bed and think of my Mother. I was turning into her nightmare—her daughter a slut. I could hear her voice screaming in my ear, ‘’ If you want to live like a prostitute...’’ My guilt evaporated once Assumpta spoke and assured me that I was normal with a healthy sexual appetite. Besides prostitutes get paid for it—we did it out of the goodness of our heart. Assumpta was gifted at justifying our actions.
By the time we left Colaiste Muire, Assumpta had left behind a trail of disasters that were linked to her and her only. Mother Carmel was at her wit’s end. Three of her girls had to attend a STD clinic, two of her girls were pregnant and six girls were in therapy for alcohol abuse. As the finger of blame was pointing at her niece, Mother Carmel opted for a quick exit and joined a silent order in Mayo. Assumpta’s ammunition against some of the respectable members of the community granted her instant absolution. She was untouchable and she knew it.
Decent leaving Certs guaranteed us passports to new horizons and pastures. My formative years of early sexual experimentation in Dingle had corrupted me beyond belief. Deep down I was ashamed of what I had done. I never waited until I was in love so I never knew what it was like to love a guy I slept with. Suddenly I felt cold and empty inside. Assumpta said it was because I was leaving the small pond to go swim in the big pond and I was scared. That was all it was. Shame about sex is pure Catholic indoctrination. It’s necessary to sleep with a variety of guys so that when you meet the right one you know he’s the best. She has a way of choking my conscience so that I am anaesthetised against my actions. She liberates me so that I can move on. Like Thelma and Louise we drive off to U.C.C together. Goodbye Dingle. Hello new gorgeous world out there.
No digs or dingy flats for us. We choose our territory carefully and decided to room on campus. Assumpta decided to study Science. Since I was doing Celtic studies, people assumed that we would go our separate ways. But if anything we were became closer. We had the gift of working hard but playing even harder—an enviable combination. In no time we were incredibly popular and our choice of men expanded. Of course Assumpta was adored by any man with a pulse on campus.
She was the magnet that drew in the best of the pick, and I certainly benefited from being her best mate. Not that I wasn't good looking, but I did not have the star quality that emanated from her every pore. We were quite a pair: one blonde haired and blue eyed, and one auburn haired and green eyed. We could strut around the quad aware of the eyes that charted our every move. We were lucky that the college provided enough victims for our killing fields.
Despite my hedonistic nature, I had my own set of moral codes. I was a serial heterosexual monogamist. I could have had sex on the first date but I was strictly a one-man woman. I also never kissed and told Assumpta about my detailed sexual exploits. My own sexuality is both personal and private to me. Assumpta on the other hand is part Swedish and she shares all—and I mean all—her details with me. Not that I mind of course, but I needed my boundaries. I have never needed to be absolved of my sins. Assumpta needs to tell me with whom, where, number of orgasms, etc. Not that this is a bad thing ‘cos its just her way. Besides, her detailed sex talk gave me plenty of ideas I could keep for future experimentation. She had magazines with a variety of positions that she would try out. Woe betide any man who was missionary only—he would be punished and made do it doggy style. She had method in her motives. I had no problem with what she did as long as it didn’t involve me.
All this changed when Assumpta got bored of her positions of the fortnight. She got restless and wanted more. She was bored and boredom always pushed her into the danger zone where change was the only way out. I should have spotted the signs. She started to drink more and hang out with Damian. There is nothing wrong with Damian other than the fact that he is a dope head. Damian has been totally chemically adjusted by ecstasy. I knew him B.E.—before ecstasy. He used to live near me in Dingle, shy to the point of backward and plagued by acne, which of course did nothing to help his sense of self-esteem. In his first week in college he gravitated towards the natural born losers and together they descended on Sir Henrys. There he found love and more love than he had ever experienced in his whole life. Furthermore it cost far less than alcohol and he felt so high and invincible. By the half term Damien was one of the E men. Assumpta was now hanging out with the E dudes and trouble was a brewing.
My 21st party was to be a fancy dress party. It was Assumpta’s idea. I guess she needed to play a staring role cos that’s what she does best. Assumpta was Cleopatra and even though it was my party I was a mere roman emperor. The fancy dress shop was almost emptied of all its stock, and the only thing left was either a cows uniform with paps or a pink toga. Assumpta was with Damian that night. He has a good body but his face is a bit poxy for my liking. She was making me sick. I should have known she was plotting something. She kept doing this ridiculous dance while Damien crawled underneath her They ignored me and I felt left out and jealous because Assumpta was my best friend and not his.
By the end of the night Assumpta was practically simulating sex on the dance floor and was now the centre of attention. Of course she was loving every bit of it. THE BITCH! It was my party and I hadn’t copped off with anyone. I was seething. Suddenly Assumpta came over and kissed me on the lips. Looking back she was Judas plotting to betray me. Damian came over with a black Russian as his gift. Mean prick. I drank it all in one go. I just wanted to go home and sleep so I got my coat and started towards the exit. When I turned around Assumpta and Damian were standing behind me looking very strangely at me.
The taxi came and Assumpta insisted we all go home together. Why not? I wasn’t going to let her see she had upset me-she’d have to see that for herself. We sat in the taxi without saying a word. On route I started to feel all warm and tingly inside. I felt my heart centre expand and I swear to you right now that if Quasimodo was beside me I would have been his. I had all these love juices taking me over. I was entering into wonderland where I was horny as hell and I no longer cared. I do not remember getting up the stairs and into bed but what happened afterwards will pepper my subconscious forever.
Assumpta had it all staged. Jon Bon Jovi’s ‘’Bed of Roses‘’ was playing in the background. Candles were strategically placed around the room casting a somewhat seedy glow to my bed - the shadows danced erotically enhancing my trance-like state. Sensations sweet throbbing and undulating coursed through my energy bodies….millions of accelerating neurons propelling me onto larger frontiers. I was going cosmic crashing through layers and layers of gates and barriers. I was becoming a melting marshmallow; all soft and gooey, all moist and yielding. I was disrobed by my now naked assistants who proceeded to lavish my body with chocolate spread and cream. I was heading towards the light entering what is better known as the twilight zone ….a convergence of reality and imaginary bliss. I sank onto the seas of silky sheets… Assumpta lay down on my right side; Damien lay down on my left side, Damien who must have remained totally drug-free that night became the stallion porn star. Two women, one man – how do they do it?
Damien reached over and pulled me on top of him, his lips gently parting mine and we kissed. My tongue took on a life of it’s own. It seemed to have extended 3 inches. I licked. He licked. I sucked. He sucked. We stayed all symbiotic until I started to throb and groan in anticipated pleasure. I was falling, now falling into the hollow of the bed. Powerless to resist spiralling primeval urges I turned to face my female lover and best friend.
Assumpta’s lips invaded the inside of my lower thigh. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. She licked the chocolate and placed her fore finger in my mouth …the taster and the tasted becoming one. She bypassed the number one erogenous zone passing go to deposit her lips on my navel. An electric current charged my third chakra seat of my power and sense of self. I was invincible. I was already reaching higher altitudes and catapulted into action I began to respond. All the world is a stage and for the first time in my life I was the brightest star. Not Assumpta. ME.
I drew her up towards me and kissed her salty lips. She expertly slid in her tongue to explore the inside of my cavernous mouth. Even my teeth cried out ‘’touch me touch me, feel me feel me...tongues interlacing and intertwining. I was vaguely aware of Damien relishing this uncontrollable lesbian act. He had the double glazed look of an envious voyeur. Assumpta descended, parted my legs and opened my Pandora’s box. I willed her to discover the cornerstone of my womanhood. She kissed me tentatively at first as if unsure of my reaction...little butterfly kisses that teased and tantalised...increasing in intensity taking me to the brink and drawing me back. She withdrew and started to suck cream from my right nipple. It was a sign for Damien to participate in the drama.
Assumpta was now in the middle where she could continue to kiss me and Damien could enter her at the same time. The candles the shadows, all three of us partook in this cosmic dance moving in perfect synchronicity to the music. Me, Assumpta, Damian …rock, throb heat, rivulets of secretions and promises of nirvana. Assumpta began to shudder into climax and screamed and shouted. You had to hand it to her for being a drama queen. Damian withdrew and came over to my side of the bed. Assumpta now became the voyeur wearing a vacant mask of morbid fascination. She lay back on the pillow and smiled. I felt I had never loved her as much as I did at that moment.
Damien knelt over me and pulled me closer to his throbbing erection that was greedily sucked into my vaginal vacuum. How I wanted him, all of him..deeper and deeper.. harder and harder. With each thrust I could feel myself slipping away...my very atoms disengaging and disintegrating. I was reaching true abandonment and total release of my being. Damian kissed me and I bit his lip, just enough to draw blood and devour his essence. This ignited our vampiric urges causing us to explode simultaneously...sending millions of sperm to their moist watery grave. Passion spent I fell into a drugged sleep where demons and dragons crawled into my crevices spitting fire into my forgotten and cast aside soul.
The morning after the night before found me sprawled between lovers. The morning light bled into the room mercilessly highlighting all that it touched. Temporarily the veil of fantasy held back the tides of horror so I had a reprieve of all of two minutes. I looked around me–—for one split second I thought I was lying on a bed of excrement until I remembered the chocolate. Damien’s rather jaded and flaccid organ lay on my right shoulder. I dared not move an inch. Assumpta was beside me lying face down—her familiar snoring temporarily lulling me into a false sense of security that this was altogether normal. A typical Sunday lie–in. My mouth felt like a million and one spiders were weaving webs over my epiglottis and turning it into a cactus. I couldn’t swallow. I needed a drink. I removed Damien’s manhood from my shoulder and found refuge in the bathroom.
The mirror reflected a guilty haunted face. I had to sit on the loo while I gulped a tumbler of mouth wash tasting water. I could see love bites forming a crazy pattern on so many parts of my body – I was almost sorely tempted to play join the dots. I smelt sperm—it has a very distinct and pungent odour. Oh my God that meant I had unprotected sex with Damian the dope head –if he was injecting then I had just signed my death warrant. Anna—R.I.P. Memories of what I did and whom I did it with flooded my thought forms. I wanted to crawl back to the safety of my mother’s womb and become the inert egg I once was. Failing that I would have opted for being a crab scurrying off underneath a stone on Wine Strand. Anything, other than remain in this human form being tortured by last night’s performance. I would even descend into the underworld with Ereshsigel as long as I could stay there.
Well what do you know; wishes and prayers are never answered. Wait for it. MR Cricket my conscience is coming on stage granting me flashbacks in Technicolor details. Why oh why is memory loss only confined to the infirm and elderly. Roll on the wrinkles and the instant amnesia. I feel so guilty not just about what I did last night but the fact that I enjoyed it. Truth time. It was the best sex I ever had. But, and there was a great big but, I could not live with that. Psychiatrists claim that repression is very damaging>Not true. The only way I could face and indeed have a future was to bury the facts so deeply that I could completely disassociate from them. Unlike lady Macbeth I would not be haunted by my past not when I planned to delete it.
Assumpta had to go. How could I stay as her best friend and know that I had once been her lover. How could I look her in the eye without recalling where she had kissed and how I had liked it. How could I face the fact that it had taken a woman with her innate sexual knowledge and understanding of her own body to press all the right buttons without being asked. I could not live with her and feel I was a normal heterosexual woman. At this stage you might feel justified into thinking that I was merely going through an experimental phase but I do have boundaries—boundaries that I was forced to discard last night (albeit because of drugs) which were now clanging tightly shut. This time I would fortify them with re-enforced concrete.
Of course magazines informed me that us women are no longer afraid to experiment- 53% have at some stage snogged a woman. 13% have had sex with another woman. 21% have had a threesome and of the 79% who didn’t, 42% would consider it. Only a minority have had sex with a woman and I now fit into that minority of sexual deviants. Enough is enough. Deep down some where in my psyche I have this pathological yearning to be normal. One man, one woman, Adam, Eve, apples, a few non poisonous serpents and a return to paradise.
Two weeks after the threesome I finished college. In the meantime I could scarcely look Assumpta in the eye. I needed to blame anyone other than myself and there is nothing like transference to make you feel morally smug and superior. I felt justified in hating her with a passion that both scared and fuelled me. She became my number one enemy. Damian, number two. I never spoke about what happened to either of them or to anyone else. I could never forgive her but most of all I could never forgive myself.