"One of your daughters here is really a boy?" Asked the Laura, pretendingto feign surprise, "And yet they both look so feminine I would think youhad ...win daughters."I was sure from the way she winked at me that she knew it was me, butapart from the wink, Laura didn't let on whether she had worked out if Iwas a boy or if she thought my sister was.Mum liked me in black and I wound up being bought a substantial Ladiesgothic wardrobe over that and subsequent shopping trips.When we got home from. I had spent a year living in la Bourgogne, (which now considers itself partof real France) and was due to meet with Serge, the son of a teacher calledLaurence, who I had made friends with in Beaune. At least that was what Iwas told.Laurence had, quite sensibly, as soon as she had learnt to drive, persuadedher Papa to give her some money, bought a car and fled Paris with nointention of ever returning. It was Laurence who had told me how the restof the French had felt about Paris because she. More

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