Chapter 2

Edward Pembroke sat motionless in the dingy living room of his halfway house. The phone was on the ground, his eyes vacant as he processed his mother’s words to him.

“It’s about time,” she had hissed, her voice full of disgust. “You think I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? You’re a degenerate, Edward, a stain on my life! Do you know how many people whispered behind my back because of you? The things they said? And now you call me to share this—this news, expecting pity? No, Edward. You don’t deserve pity. You deserve exactly what you’re getting. I hope you go to hell!”

Pembroke had barely got the chance to say anything after providing her with his diagnosis.

“I’ll tell you what I feel,” she continued. “Relief. Relief that I’ll finally be free of you before I die. You don’t get to outlive me. That’s the one thing I prayed for, Edward. And now it’s happening. Thank God.”

Pembroke looked at the used pair of knickers he had taken from the terrified schoolgirl just a few days ago. What a repugnant creature he was. It was as if the devil himself had shaped Pembroke, crafting a grotesque figure to shuffle through life leaving behind no legacy but the stench of his crimes.

Maddie stood on the edge of the chattering group of girls, warm rays spreading over the schoolyard. Maddie tugged at the hem of her plaid skirt, painfully aware of how tightly it clung to her waist. The fabric stretched snugly, and the gentle curve of her hips and bottom caused the pleats to flare slightly, making her feel exposed in front of the boys and glad she had chosen full white panties that day.

She wished she had the confidence of her so-called-friends whose skirts were so high they flashed her small triangles of pink, red and white fabric between their thighs as they leant back against the railings, loving the attention from the boys.

The other girls were in high spirits, laughing and joking as they debated the best places to spend their holidays.

“Greece is so nice this time of year,” gushed Claire, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. “We’re staying in a villa with a private pool.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing!” added Olivia, her buxom breasts things that Maddie could only dream of having. “We’re going to Disneyland Paris again. It’s tradition for us.”

Maddie shuffled her feet, her black sandals scuffing against the pavement. She knew it was her turn to speak, but her mouth felt dry.

“What about you, Maddie?” one of them asked, turning toward her with a knowing smile.

“Um...” Maddie hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “We are going hiking, in and around Loch Ness.”

“Your parents are doctors,” scolded Olivia, her hands waving dramatically. “Why are they so tight with money?”

“I don’t know,” Maddie mumbled, staring at her shoes. “They don’t like flying.”

“Ugh, boring,” Claire interjected, rolling her eyes before swiftly changing the subject to something she deemed far more exciting—how many boys they planned to kiss this summer. The group erupted into giggles and playful boasts. Maddie shifted uncomfortably. She hadn’t kissed a boy, not even close. The idea of it filled her with a mix of curiosity and dread. She could only dream of the boys in her class, the ones she secretly admired from a distance

Walking home from school with her satchel over her shoulder, as Maddie thought about boys, friends and a summer of listening to her parents having sex in the small camper van, she forgot about the breeze that had wafted under her skirt gently lifting the hem and treating onlookers to tantalizing glimpses of her tiny white panties.

“Hi, luv, give me a kiss, and I’ll give you some of this vodka!”

Out of nowhere a homeless man slurred at her, his voice raspy, his visage disgusting and unkempt. Maddie jumped, her heart jolting with fright and panic. This revolting figure was a grotesque invasion into her otherwise pleasant, sheltered middle-class life. She tugged her skirt down hastily, her cheeks burning with humiliation, and ran off without looking back.

She hated being female, she thought. She wished she could turn her body off, or better yet turn off all these disgusting men who leered and watched her every day. She only hoped that her hiking holiday would not have these kinds of men watching her all the time.

Pembroke was the picture of twisted happiness, his grotesque form hunched over a pint in the corner of the local Wetherspoons. His thick, gnarled fingers gripped the glass as he took a long sip, a smug grin stretching across his sagging face. The life insurance payout had come through early—a tidy little sum that erased his financial worries and gave him the rare satisfaction of knowing, for once, life had thrown him a bone.

What to do with the time and the money? The pair of knickers he kept in his pocket were now a token of fun and hedonism, not the depravity and filth he had thought of them earlier. He was fifty five and dying, no point changing now, he guffawed. As he drank, he eyed the barmaids. Just students, he thought. Maybe they might be tempted for a quick fuck, or blowjob for a little extra quid.

He watched one girl, who had avoided his eyes as he ordered his drink. Septum ring, vest top displaying her ample bosom, black girl. Yeah, she’ll do, he thought.

Nah, he thought. Better just go professional. He would get a hooker on the way back. He was always disappointed at how old they were. He got his cheap phone out and started checking the age of consent of various countries. Colombia, Angola, Vietnam ... nice poor countries all ripe for exploitation by a tourist like him. What a good way to spend his last few months.