Nailed-on guilt

One day, when I was about six years old, I went round to play at my friend Sabrina’s house. We were close as sisters and always around each other’s homes. I liked Mrs Daniels, Sabrina’s mom, a lot – she was good fun and looked after us well.

About halfway through the morning, when we had exhausted most of the other activities we liked to do, Sabrina suggested we had a look round the house for ideas. I followed her and eventually we ended up in her parents’ bedroom.

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