It was a hot day. I let my-self in and went to the kitchen to get some juice out of the fridge. As I stood there swigging orange out of the carton, I looked out the kitchen window. There, tucked down be-hind the shed, was my mum having a snog with some bloke. They were dappled with shadow from the trees. Her blouse was unbuttoned, hanging open. They were kissing each other very hard, and he kept crushing her up into his chest and sliding his hands under her blouse at the back. I ducked out of sight. I felt a bit like James Bond, hiding there with my back to the wall, the carton of juice in my hand like a gun. Then I peeped round again to have an-other look. I wanted to see if he was going to take her clothes off. They were smiling now. She put her hands round his face and kissed him in a way I never saw her kiss my dad. It was like a film. It was so unreal, it made me think of fairies at the bottom of the garden. I felt that if I took a picture of it, it wouldn't come out.
