But what if it was Dad that walked in?”“He would blush and walk out again,” I said.“Or it could have been Mum?” said Tara.“She’d want us...to hold the pose so she could paint us,” I said.“Probably!” said Tara. “We’d end up with a huge painting of me inspecting your vagina on the living room wall.”“I can just imagine the principal, Miss Webster, coming to visit and having to sit looking at that painting,” I said.“Yeah!” said Tara. “She’d be all: I’m here to talk about your daughter!”“ ... and Dad. Mr Monaghan had ruled over the boys with his fearful slipper; I had seen the star of the rugby team reduced to tears by just a few swats of the tattered old plimsoll he used, a demonstration which had come in useful when I'd had the opportunity to use the slipper on Jeff. There had been a competitive element between Jenny and me in our final term, with Jenny winning by one caning. Miss Hunter had been a large woman with a powerful right arm. Jenny and I sat quietly for a moment, lost in our own. More

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