“Where is that enfoiré of a husband of mine, you old bag.” she shouted at the woman.“You’ve no damned right coming in here shouting at me wit... your airs and graces, you’re no better than a whore yourself,” the woman screamed back.“At least I’ve got a title out of it. What have you got? Look at you, madam of a provincial brothel. Now, where is he?”“Find him yourself, bitch.”This was shaping up to be a regular cat fight when the object of the conversation limped in through a door at the back of. She needed to make him see that.Monday, he didn’t speak to her or look at her. It stayed that way for the rest of the week, at school. He didn’t cut music. He couldn’t do that. But he could stand there, mute.Mindy noticed, of course. Her seasoned eyes saw the hurt, the anger, the ... rejection. But there wasn’t anything she could do. She tried to talk to him. She told him to stay after class one day.“Bobby,” she said, her voice pleading.He faced away from her.“Bobby, please. We need to talk. More

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