George lay in bed listening to the quietness. He was tired out but couldn’t sleep. Jed’s words were echoing in his head. If he left home and got a room he could have a life of his own. He fantasised about having a little place with nice wallpaper and a record player. He saw it in his mind as if it was real. A clean candlewick bedspread on the double bed. A stack of records by the record player and an electric fire to keep him warm. Maybe a small wardrobe with nice clothes and shoes in it. And mats either side of the bed. In one corner of the room was a comfortable chair, with his favourite books on a coffee table alongside. He was so deep in his fantasy that he didn’t hear his bedroom door open. When Nancy sat on the edge of his bed he was startled.

‘Georgie boy?’ Her voice was low and soft.

He didn’t answer.

Nancy turned on the lamp by his bed and looked down at him, her face wreathed in smiles. She took a ten-shilling note from her dressing-gown pocket and placed it on the night table.

‘That’s for you, Georgie. Fifteen bob a week should be enough for your housekeeping. I don’t like the thought of you walking to work like that, especially in this weather.’

George stared at her warily. She raised her hand and automatically he flinched. He heard her deep throaty chuckle, then felt her cool hands on his face as she caressed him. The hands moved down his body on to his chest, moving in circular motions that made his skin prickle. Against his will he felt the erection and pulled the sheets up over his stomach. Nancy pulled them down and grinned at him.

‘You wouldn’t leave your mummy, Georgie boy, would you?’

Her voice was husky and George could smell her perfume as she moved nearer.

He was willing her to go away. Begging her in his mind to leave him alone, but the habits of childhood are hard to break. He associated Nancy with excitement. He felt her fingers grasp his penis, and closed his eyes tight.

Nancy stroked him. Her eyes were brilliant in the candlelight. ‘Mummy loves you, Georgie boy.’

He ejaculated, his thin body jerking frenziedly.

‘And Georgie loves his mummy, doesn’t he?’

She kissed him on the lips, pulling him towards her. Then, turning off the lamp she left the room as quietly and unobtrusively as she entered it.

George felt the stickiness on his thighs and suddenly the dam burst. He cried - hard, shuddering sobs that were as confused as his mind. He pushed his fists into his eyes to stem the tears. Because he hated her. He hated her so much. He hated the things she had done to him, he hated the way she made him feel and hated the way she touched him. It frightened him. But most frightening of all was that, as much as he hated her, he loved her.