Page 236 - Demo

236I rarely include stories from other authors in my books but I made an exception here to give another aspiring author an opportunity to get her pen wet so to speak, if not her fingers too. She was already wealthy after completing a science project in Oxford which had paid her a staggering sum. But she hungered adventure and exploits and had an impish mind. She thought writing might enable her to indulge in both.Stephanie was a teenager of just seventeen%u2014pretty and with a keen bright mind. If not for one tiny aspect of her character, she could be thought of as a pretty young angel. The year was that of her seventeenth birthday, 1964. She lived in South London close to a railway station%u2014Tooting Junction. She had always had a furtive imagination and loved making up games or telling wild stories to her friends.This particular day in question was one that would test her storytelling and put her in direct confrontation and the justice system in England, one that still tended to be a man%u2019s world despite the sterling work done by women doing what was formerly considered to be men's work during World War Two.She had started a job after leaving a secondary modern school, Garratt Green, a bus ride away from her home, a school like most secondary modern schools that turned out working-class fodder for factories in the area.The world was still one of drab colours. But it was starting to change. Colour Television, although still expensive, had arrived to the people who could afford them. New bright coloured paints started to muscle in on the browns, greens, and white washes that adorned homes The Girl Who Cried RapeChapter 1: A Night At The Cinema