NECKLACE, AFFAIR OF THE MISSING - While the recovery of my mother's pearl necklace might not, strictly speaking, qualify as an adventure, the unerring instinct with which I located it in under Christine's pillow was the first indication of my vocation. The pro-Hamilton mood that followed coincided with a period in which Christine, having exhibited a reprehensible trait, remained firmly in the dog-house. Her seventh birthday, which fell the week after the initial shockwaves of her disgrace, was a subdued affair, the proposed trip to the Safari Park being cancelled in favour of a dinner at which the only guests were our grand-parents. Christine's violent retribution, a sneak attack from behind while I was saying my prayers (at the time, I was a particularly devout child), was the first of many beatings I suffered on account of my art.

While we never discuss the matter, I'm sure with the application of hindsight, Christine appreciates the intervention that prevented her from following an entirely different path. Ironically, my recent discovery that my niece, Muriel, was experimenting with cigarettes, entailed a complete role-reversal.   In the fullness of time, I expect that Muriel might reconsider her own immediate response to my ‘interference'

 

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