The Solicitor's Hand on My Leg

Boys like me were raised with a profound shame at feeling beholden. We were taught that it was better to do without. But it felt wrong to let him for my food and not go. I could count on one hand the number of times i had been out of glasgow. If a place could not be reached on an orange corporation bus, then i had never been. He drove quickly without telling me where we were going. The solicitor led me into an anonymous block of flats. There were 18 age boys in the small living room and two girls. Two of the boys were barechested and sat with their arms locked round each other.