At the bottom of the bag was a diary,always worth reading,even if it contained awful teenage poetry.A few photographs fell out.One,a baby picture caught my eye,mum dad,a fat toddler sitting between them.A memory of a perfect family that never existed.The dad in the photo caught my eye,a strange familiarity.Looking closer,I wondered,surely it was too unlikely a coincidence? xxx hd “Oh no that’s not mine,”Not a strong Geordie accent,I had guessed right,a nice girl from a nice family.For a moment I saw a ghost ,another girl arriving in London,running away from things she did not even admit to herself.Part of the reason I was so good at this ,I had stood,uncertain and afraid,trying to work out what to do next.




















