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K, in
fact, from my memories of her, the Canadian woman was quite
attractive, and was a lot younger than Mom. A few years ago, she'd
competed as an athlete for the Canadian Olympic team, and had been the
star of the family - the press-cuttings of this physically perfect
specimen of a woman had fast vanished from Mom's dresser into my stash
of fantasies.
When became too old for the squad, she'd extended 's fame by
having a short, messy relationship, with an ex-convict who'd ended up
beating 's and running off with 's medals. I'd never been entirely
sure why, but Dad had always seemed sympathetic to the fiance,
referring to 's as 'that Canadian dyke', this infuriating Mom and
inevitably leading to arguments.
My anger was due to the bank-book black-mail. I'd been saving every
penny I could since I was fourteen, for a decent motor-bike, and in a
month would be finished. Now, all my efforts might be in vein. As my
thoughts wandered between anticipation of once again seeing my Aunt,
and concern about my plans for
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