I feared that I would be resentful, that I would heap my own failings and the collapse of my old life on an innocent child. Much better to find a home...where that child could grow up in safety and love.I often thought about Ivan, at first anyway. I wondered how he was coping. Was he sad, was he upset at my leaving? Or did he regard my departure as "good riddance"? I had not left a note or any farewell message. I know I had hurt him terribly but he had hurt me back. I had certainly not expected. “Get on.”I don’t recall what model his motorcycle was. It was long and low and red and black, and its engine rumbled so that I could feel it at the junction of my thighs. And as we leaned around bends, I found myself, unbidden, throwing my arms around him, and hugging tight. He didn’t seem to mind it.After a while we were outside the town (I told you it wasn’t large) and driving through a forest. He turned off the main road on to a smaller one, and then on to a track. Finally we came to a place. More

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