He had perhaps, a little more of the potent rum than he should have. Not quite drunk, but near enough for his coordination to be affected. He sat down...heavily on a tree trunk, hoping that his head would clear sufficiently for him to make it back to the colonial style house. As the eldest son of the Plantation owners, he was treated with a deference and respect above his young age. At twenty-one, he had seen and experienced rather more than the average young man in the 1760's. To his credit,. Being allowed to rub could mean only one thing. One dreadful thing.“So Dad, the restaurant phoned and asked when I was going to book. Didn’t they?” Marty couldn’t speak.“Didn’t they,” she said sternly.Marty said a very weak, “Yes.”“Yes indeed,” Zoe said, adding, “So why don’t you rub Dad,” still glaring at him.Susie squirmed around to loom at Susie, also realising what was happening. She looked at her husband from her position across her daughters lap.“You lied Dad didn’t you,” Zoe said even. More

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