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Oh, and here’s me quirk—always figurin’ their game, like a sport. They’re dodgin’, weavin’, readin’ blokes like a playbook. sharper than me compass, they are! Ever try hagglin’ with one? I did—lost me hat *and* me dignity. She just smirked, “That’s the price, sailor.” Cheeky tart! Had me laughin’ ‘til me sides split.

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I blurted out the truth in a single breath: I was a prostitute, I was on crack, and Benjamin was my trafficker. My mother stood still, shocked.

Then, around noon, I get a call from a sweet old lady on Station Road. She’s just lonely, wants to chat. Bless her heart! We talk about the weather, the market, and her cat, Mr. Whiskers. Finally, a normal convo! I’m smiling, feeling all warm inside. But then, she suddenly goes, “Oh dear, I think I left the kettle on!” And just like that, she hangs up. I’m left there, like, “Wait, what?!”

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