RELUCTANT PRESS

There is one more thing to be told. Was it terribly naughty? Perhaps it was but to complete the chronicle, I must tell it.

I had made my way down to the fridge one night at 1:30 and the house was in darkness. I had on a little girl's nightie and the nappy that Auntie always insisted I wear to bed -"Just In case, dear." I was after a cold pork chop that I knew was in the Fridge.

As I stood there munching it with the fridge door open, Auntie called out, "Is that you, darling?"

I got quite a start. "Yes, Auntie, I had a bad dream." "Then come and crawl in with me, you poor baby. Come on love."

I made my way to her room, my heart thumping a bit. She had switched her bedside light on and held her arms out towards me. "Come and let Auntie cuddle you, my angel."

I made my way toward her bed, got in beside her and nuzzled down in her wonderful loving arms.

She leaned across, switched off the light and cuddled me close to her.

"You know, I so wish I had a little baby of my own. I so desperately wanted that all my life. Do you think I will ever have that joy before I die?" she whispered.

"Auntie, darling," (I'd never called her that before) I'm your little baby aren't I?"

"Of course you are my little lovikins."

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JOYCE'S GIRLS BY JOYCE

FLE "DOCTOR PAULA K."

By Joyce

I'm not going to disclose Dr. Paula's full name for a thousand and one reasons. Mainly, of course, she hasn't given me permission. Paula is a dermatologist, although not a doctor in the conventionally accepted medical sense. She could not, for instance, write drug prescriptions, nor would she be allowed to take part in a surgery team's removal of anything as simple as a mole on the chin. She has a Ph.D. in physiology, hence the doctor label; her research project was on skin problems and skin rejuvenation.

There is, I confess, a faint smack of mumbo-jumbo about 'skin rejuvenation'. It seems to belong in the annals of alchemy and the poking around of the Iatro chemists in their search for the 'Elixir of Life' in medieval times superseded now by modern cosmetology.

My own knowledge of the subject is limited to the application of Royal Jelly from a queen bee, but I believe that is now a bit passe'.

Paula is disconcertingly bright and I find anybody disconcertingly bright a bit of a handful (I am very ordinary), so this is not a case of MCP-ism rampant. In fact, if she comes through in this narrative as nothing more than mediocre, those are my limitations, not hers!

The good doctor lived in the flat next door to me.

We had been on nodding terms for several months and our exchanges had by this time progressed to remarks about the weather.

I eventually decided it was time to invite her over for a drink. I practised the words it had to sound nonchalantly

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