Angela was new then. She was there one day, no one saw her come, but she stayed. About a month later I discovered what her name was, or at least what the girls called her.
I don't ask questions. If the girls want to tell me about themselves that is fine, but when not, that is also fine.
I know nothing and everything about Angela. I know nothing about Angela because she has told me nothing, perhaps her name is Angela, perhaps not. This is not important. What is important is that I know everything about each girl that I can see or smell or taste or feel.
Feeling is very important. Let me show you with an example.
Each girl wears something different in bed. Patricia wears a nightie that covers just about nothing, Ursula's covers even less. Angela wears nothing. Felicity wears something that looks like a tent. Wilma's long legs are in tan-coloured nylon stockings.
Honey-Bunch always sleeps wrapped round Mrs G. Mrs Happy wears underwear that could stop a bullet. Josephine sleeps alone. Georgina wears a hat. Undis wears nice undies. Juicy Jennifer wears something that I cannot write about. And I used to wear pyjamas.
I can tell which girl is which just by feeling them, which I often do, as they all wear something different in bed. They also taste and smell nice.
One morning, early in the morning, it was dark, a little bit of moonlight coming through the curtains, I was sitting on the edge of the bed thinking. I had pyjamas on as usual. I was kicked in the back.
I turned round, but I could see no one, not a happy little face wanting something. I returned to my thinking, another kick. Again nobody. More thinking, a bigger kick.
I stopped thinking and turned my brain on. Yes, I got it. Don't wear pyjamas! I took them off, slid under the bed clothes and the first girl I found was Angela.