’ Her accent is Liverpudlian. After all this time I am still captivated by her voice, her body – I love her… but she must still be taught a less...n. I move the stool into the centre of the room. She casts me a glance of apprehension… to no avail. ‘Bend over the stool – I am going to give you three very hard strokes of the slipper… like the teachers used to give us!’ She bends over the stool, her body tightening. I grip the plimsoll in my right hand and bring it down hard onto her left buttock.. I gathered her pouch and picked more berries from the bush to add to it. Then I set back to the camp.As I approached, she turned back to me. She had been looking at my backpack, sitting on the other side of the fire I had made."Where did you find such a backpouch?" she asked."Wal-Mart," I told her. I sat down beside her and opened the pouch. We both eagerly dug into the berries. I was so starved, and I knew she had to be hungry too. The berries were sweet to taste, and I thought to myself that. More

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