There was a certain unselfconscious prestige about rolling up to school in this car, even if we were so rugged up against the cold that we were hardly... recognisable. I had several projects on the go to help with the running of the farm. I had graded and gravel sealed a runway so that I could fly in and out of the property in my new second-hand plane. This served two purposes, I could keep my hand in with flying and Pete, my neighbour, and I could fly to country sales when we needed to buy stock. If someone finds this when I am gone, then let this be a testament of the truth and love between two human beings.”“My name is Isabella Gurnard. I was born Isabella Louisa Larkin. My father was a mid-ranking diplomat, my mother Italian, the daughter of a similarly ranked Italian diplomat, resident when they met, at Italy’s London embassy. She passed away when I was six years old and my father, a dear, kind man, raised me alone although I had a governess called Miss Percy who was also kind. . He should be here any minute, and... Jesus, Jesus, you'll have to excuse me, Dan. I have to piss something fierce." She clutched at her crotch and made a wild dash for the potty in the church basement.Her bladder was overflowing and the insides of her thighs were wet from the leakage, the hot fluid squeezing out with every step she took. She'd felt the urge even before Dan fucked her in the loft, and it was unbearable now.Rushing into the toilet stall, Joan lifted her skirt. Her piss poured. My heart was broken and it was then that I went into a writing frenzy.My big break came when I was at the studio early and playing one of my compositions. One of the biggest stars of the day heard it and asked to use it on his next album. Other pieces followed and I eventually started pitching my songs and myself. A small label picked me up and the CD was a surprise hit on the charts. Bigger contracts and more hits followed.I was brought out of my thoughts by the lights being shut down. I moved.