But I loved her; she loved me; we both loved the c***dren. The yearly Valentine Card brightened Margaret’s low point in early February. We had lost ... baby late in a January and the anniversary was sad for both of us. She knew she would get it and that I really meant the words I wrote each year. I never understood why Margaret chose me. I knew she loved me, almost as much as I loved her. Each morning I had a brief sense of disbelief that she was in bed beside me. I hated leaving her to go to. I waited until Luther was level with us then flipped up the front of my skirt. “Coo-eee, Lu-ther,” I called out in a sing-song voice.That shook Luther out of his funk, and he turned to look. Then he saw my kitty on full display. His face turned puce with rage, something I’d only seen once before when a fox had killed his favourite chicken.Luther looked me in the eye for a scarily long moment. “Fucking whore,” he spat out, before stalking off.Part of me knew I should have jumped off the wall and. More

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