But this wasn't the time to provoke a family row.I shrugged my shoulders and dipped a knife into the runny marmalade.*Throston Beck reached the sea through a deep defile fringed with marramgrass and thistles. Thanks to yesterday's downpour the channel was full,and had eroded a meandering course across the sands complete withminiature bluffs, slip-off slopes and all the other features Iremembered from Geography lessons.I stood on the top of a low dune and watched a dog splash through thewater in search of a stick. It picked it up with its teeth beforetrotting back to its owner, a woman who from this distance appeared tobe about the same age as mum. I frowned at her headsquare, her quiltedjacket and shapeless skirt, determined that whatever became of me Iwasn't going to end up like her.Who then?I had no idea. How could I, when every second of my upbringing hadconditioned me into believing I'd grow into a man?Just like my father...Now it began to add up. Dads wanted their sons to be. I wanted to feel them there and in other places.“Layla?”I realized he was asking if I was high enough to enter the house.“Oh, thanks, this is high enough.” I all but whispered the words. As I gained my balance and his hands slipped away, they brushed against my ass and my breath shot up into my nose in one sharp intake.“Layla, are you ok?”“Yes,” I answered weakly. “I’m almost in.”I slipped into the kitchen, landing on the counter, and hopped off. Grabbing his keys, I jiggled them in my hands with a nervous smile.Outside, Jacob smiled and gave me a thumbs up, gesturing that I should meet him at the front door.Walking through his house, I mused at how different it was inside. Architecturally, it was the same as my house. Our estate was filled with identical houses. Yet, the inside of his was so different from ours.Pictures of his wife and k**s s**ttered the wall. The k**s were the same age as me, but unlike me who couldn’t afford to go to a fancy university out of state, they hadn’t.
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