Okay, she wasn't a showgirl, but her name was Lola. She had the kind of smile that makes you weak at the knees, your heart flutter and your knickers a...little damp. I was standing in the doorway to the ladies dressing room, my mouth hanging open and my eyes fixed on the mirror in front of me. I wasn't amazed at my own reflection, it was the woman who shared it with me, Lola. She sat in a chair, legs crossed at the knee, wearing nothing but white satin underwear and that wicked smile. "If you. Mike are you listening?’ ‘What? I’m sorry Mom, what were you saying?’ My voice echoed strangely over the phone line, as if I were in a tunnel or something. ‘They are medicating her intravenously, antibiotics and painkillers. I told them no machines, and not to resuscitate her if she goes. She is so old, and the pain, anytime they move her she just moans.’ ‘Is she eating anything yet?’ I asked. ‘No, she refuses to eat. I tried to give her soup, but as soon as the spoon touched her lips she. More

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