Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. He stood outside of the car, bewildered, as she walked up to the BMW’s front bumper. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me. She wormed her way past Sebastian, glanced at her mother’s blackened face, her obscenely naked body bulging with yellow and black buboes under the arms and in the groin that oozed stinking fluid. F.
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