Spending Christmas Day was supposed to smooth things over, but no sooner had we sat down to eat than her father asked me about what I was writing.
I had an interview lined up in San Francisco with a pornography star turned sex artist called Annie Sprinkle, but decided not to mention this.
Cassie's face suggested a firing squad had just entered the room. Who'd like a pig in a blanket? her sister interjected, trying to act normal.
My panic at answering questions at the table had me wondering if I was turning into a provincial stick-in-the-mud.
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