I became a prostitute and would send my mother about 25 dollars
a week for the family, just enough to keep my father out of debtors prison.
My sisters and brothers went to school out of the money I sent them. I
visited home when I was about 15 years old, and my parents were embarrassed.
The family was fine. There was plenty of food and clothes and
they were happy. My mom fixed me a lunch and sent me home by train
(something she never did was give away food to anyone). She advised me not
to come home again, as I was an embarrassment to my father. He was
a French Catholic and my mom was an Irish Catholic, but very British in her
thinking about material things. Before we headed to the train station,
my father took me for a walk. He told me how much he loved me and gave
me a necklace. It represented the prayers he prayed for me, though
he never taught me prayer or anything religious, neither did my mom. He
told me he was sad about my life and apologized that he could not have taken
care of me better. I agreed with my mom, they needed the money and
I was able to help and glad to help. He hugged me and sent me on my
way. I never saw him again. I went back to London and my flat
and prostitution.
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