Dad's stuff was relegated to a smallishcorner of the room - a rack with slacks, another with coats and variousother apparel. Mom's stuff however - was...all over the place. Two hugedressers stood near the large mirror, which was flanked by an spiky arrayof various bottles and tubes, with brushes and combs dotted here andthere. He pulled open the leftmost dresser and studied its contents.Dresses, neatly hung up, a few shoes on the bottom, and a few boxes.Opening the topmost one, he found it full. “Do you think that just because I’m a priest I don't have male blood boiling in my veins? What are you on about, girl?!”Bernie seemed oblivious to her confessor’s discomfort. Either that, or she was deliberately winding him up – he couldn’t tell for sure. “See, Father,” she continued, “he’d ask me to say dirty words, like… ‘tits’… and ‘pussy’... and…” – her voice lingered a while on the first consonant – “‘ffffuck’.”In an instant, Father Jim’s resistance crumbled. That word was his favourite, a. More

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