John turned around, kind of embarrassed that he was seeing his best friend naked. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked quickly. ‘John, turn around! I ...on’t want you seeing my privates, you’ll make me blush,’ she giggled. John turned around, facing the tile wall, he asked. ‘Carly, what are you doing?’ ‘Well…, you take long showers and I didn’t want you to finish all of the hot water’ ‘uhhh…’ he stammered. ‘Can you pass me the soap?’ John handed her the soap over his shoulder. He heard her humming. I haven’t seen the boy for at least 4 years. He’s 16 now and is a ringer for his dad. Is it me, or are kids maturing much more quickly these days? I must be getting old. Even policemen look far too young. Paul and I didn’t attend the wake. I couldn’t bear seeing anymore of Allan’s mousy, stupid little wife or hear her irritating Home Counties English accent. More to the point, I couldn’t accept the ghost of Allan in the shape of Jamie, his son.Paul has taken Allan’s death far harder. More

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