I knew what that meant, but I also knew that I owed a certain little someone a real chocolate malt, product of a mom and pop drive-in. by this time sh...’d discarded the robe and was down to the Cindy I adored, wearing jeans and a cotton shirt. Seeing her sitting beside me, sucking the thick malt through a straw, eyes laughing, I was very happy. But I don’t think I was happier than Cindy.Finally home, we hung clothes and ran the routine of showers and ended up in at giggly tangle on the bed,. Under the roof of our home was an attic which was used as a sort ofstoreroom for discarded furniture and other odds and ends. Rene and Iconverted it into a species of playhouse.Access to this attic was gained by a steep and narrow stairwayenclosed between dark walls, and our parents rarely climbed thesestairs, and would have given us ample warning by their footsteps had itoccurred to them to do so; we felt reasonably secure, and alwaysrepaired to this obscure hideaway when the mood to do. More

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