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Both his father and I could hear the noises he made as we sat at the bottom of the stairs. Smirking and laughing his father put his forefinger in front of his lips when the boy’s mother was heard storming into the boy’s bedroom and shouting, ‘just what do you think you’re doing,’ followed by an almighty scream. As his mother began to walk the ‘girl from the party’ downstairs his father hushed me into the kitchen where we stood by the kettle pretending to be discussing football teams. ‘Have you seen what your son’s been doing with this,’ she said as she then noticed me. ‘Get rid of her,’ his mother said as she threw the poor thing at me. After slamming the kitchen door on her way out the father whispered, ‘don’t laugh.’
He believes to this very day that he had sex with one of the girls from the party despite what his mother tells him. His dad, well, he still finds it hilarious. The doll stood quietly in the corner of my room for nearly a year. For some reason, I’m not sure why, but my mother refused to dust it down. Like any young love, her interest seemed to deflate after a while. When the boy’s father dropped me off at home, I wasn’t the slightest bit ashamed to carry the life size blow up sex doll underneath my arm back up to my room.