Ryan offered to take her to his place and show her a good time. And you know Cheryl. Always ready for a new adventure. That’s the last I saw of her....�� Martin didn’t believe a word he said. He knew Ryan. He was a filthy old pervert, and Cheryl would never have gone anywhere with him. He also knew Turner was trying to portray Cheryl as some kind of newly minted whore. But to Turner all women were whores. Cheryl had been played like a Cherokee fiddle, but she was certainly none of the things. .!Now fully awake due to the incessant crashes of thunder and bolts oflightning, vivid memories when I was in my mid-teens together with severalyoung cousins began to surface...All of us wide eyed and open mouthed in front of a roaring fire everyChristmas Eve believing every single one of my grandmother's many Celticand Gaelic fairy tales and stories of the wee folk, gleefully told in ahushed voice to make sure that only we in the room could ever hear and no-one else.Secret stories she'd said. More

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