Emilia
As I perch on the edge of the bed, I watch Emilia summoning up all her strength to prance around the room. It’s for my benefit only, to prove she’s okay. She doesn’t look as if she’s killing herself. At least, no one else would notice, the way she is right now. I cast my eyes over the tiny outfit she’s laid out and run my fingertip over the new PVC.
She’s trying hard to dance, with her half-unzipped dress dangling off her and gaping to reveal her new bra and knickers and her new, smaller roll-down corset. Mum wouldn’t like it if she knew Emilia’s swaying around to, oh, some crackly pirate radio station she’s managed to find, which plays all the new songs – on her radio. It’s the only item of Mum’s that I’ve still got. Everything else I pinched to tide me over when I left – well, t
