Carol reaches for another cookie. She refers to them, naturally, as biscuits.
"Dear me", she says, I wonder how much weight I am going gain here. Melissa, I have a lovely recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip biscuits. I would love to do some baking tomorrow here if I may."
"I don't see why not," she replies.
"I suppose you would all like me to continue", Carol says.
"You don't have to", Carl says, "Not unless you are comfortable.
"Well", she says, sighing heavily, "I am not comfortable"...She takes a sip of coffee. "But as they say in America, the show must go on."
With a paper serviette, Carol dabs her mouth. Then she continues.
"What my sister told me next, it was something that no one should have to hear from a sibling. But hear it I did. And I think now that that is the real reason I never forgave her. Not just for abandoning me, but for telling me something about my father, whom I loved as much as she hated him, something so horrible and loathsome. It turned out that Dad had been having sex with my sister. She told me about it, right there in her sordid and cluttered living room in her ghastly little council flat. It began when she was eleven, and already starting to look like a young woman, more than a little girl. She said it went on till she was fourteen. He only quit when she threatened to tell Mom all about it..."
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