They started stopping me in the corridor to tell me something or trying to get me to take extra coaching or go swimming or whatever.“So one of them,...Miss Dugeon, was the tennis coach and one day, after practice, she tried to touch me in the showers. She was good-looking but I wouldn’t let her. She’d been looking at me a bit funny for a while, holding me to show me racquet grips, and showering right at the same time, and next to me, things like that. I’d begun to realise there was something. My father had healed me and shown me love. He had held me, made love to me, made me whole. This poor boy, had none of that. He had nothing and no one. I held him, and fell into me. His suicide attempt had been genuine, and not a plea for help, he had cut his wrists hoping for revenge, out of anger and pain. Only to discover while he was healing, that his parents thought it was selfish, that they had offered judgement and condemnation only thinking of themselves. I cried with him. The. More

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