Read Being a Girl for Free Online Page A

mon?’
    Byron didn’t answer.
    The Laird stared down at the machine, his huge digit hovering over the keyboard. I wasn’t sure how things had got to this position, and the last thing I wanted was the police to get involved over some silly offence, ruining my chance of going to Cambridge before I’d even been offered a place. He pressed the appropriate key and lifted the phone to his ear.
    â€˜Please,’ I said.
    He stared back at me, his brow crinkled, a smile emerging from his beard.
    â€˜Ah, there you are, mon. It’s Hamish the Black Watch . . .’
    He listened.
    â€˜Aye, and a good evening to you, Sergeant. I wanted to report there’s a couple of trespassers on my property, a couple of lassies . . .’
    He watched as my fingers hurried like scuttling insects for the buttons on my blouse, unhooking the first.
    There was another pause.
    â€˜We can probably handle it in the normal way.’
    I undid another button while he nodded into the phone. Then a third.
    â€˜Aye, mon, and a very pleasant night for it,’ he said, and closed the machine.
    The Laird sat back in his winged armchair, watching me. I had undone all the buttons on my blouse and stood with my hands clasping the front together. I glanced at Binky. She was staring at the floor. It was typical that my step-sister had broken the lock and I was standing there half undressed. The fine hair on her legs was golden in the firelight. I suppose in a way it was because she had taken off her flares that I had agreed to the humiliation of removing my blouse. Not that I had taken it off yet. I looked automatically back at the Laird and it was like he could read my mind.
    â€˜Aye, lassie,’ he said.
    He spoke softly, kindly, his voice not booming but soothing, a chant. The room was lit by an orange glow. The sky outside was slowly darkening, the long July day turning to night. I peeled the blouse from my shoulders, down my arms and held it in front of me.
    â€˜Over here,’ he said, pointing at the mesh grille around the fireside.
    I hung the blouse beside Binky’s flares.
    â€˜What’s your name, girl?’
    â€˜Milly Petacci.’
    â€˜So, you have the hot blood of a Latin in your veins, do you,’ he said, and thought about that for a moment. ‘Why did you do it, Milly? What possessed you?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜If you were caught short you could have goneoutside. But oh no, you have to piddle on my property.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I murmured.
    I knew it didn’t matter what I said. The Laird of the Black Watch had power over us and was enjoying it.
    â€˜So you’re sorry, are you?’
    â€˜Yes, really.’
    â€˜And you’ll do anything?’
    I didn’t answer and he glanced again at Byron.
    â€˜I did hear right, or am I going deaf like Mrs McTavish?’
    Byron sniffed and changed positions. ‘I’ll do anything. That’s what I heard.’
    â€˜It’s just an itzy wee thing, Milly. Indulge an old hill farmer who doesnae understand your London ways.’
    He didn’t say what the itzy wee thing was. He didn’t need to. He was just a dirty old man. He wanted me to take off my bra, but if that wasn’t bad enough, what I couldn’t understand was that the fear had made my breasts swell and my nipples had hardened. I could feel them tingling, pushing against the soft fabric. My breasts were betraying me. My breasts were traitors.
    A log broke and sparks chased up the chimney. It gave us something to watch, but once the fire settled it was like the interval in a play was over and the curtain had risen again. My mouth was dry, and mechanically my skinny arms doubled behind my back, my damp nervous fingers slipped the hook from the hasp, and the straps of my bra fell from my shoulders.
    No one spoke, but the room appeared to sigh. I went of my own accord to the fireside and droppedthe little white fold of