The next opportunity came sooner than expected. Or so I thought, anyway, having seen Bernadette go out to spend her night off with a relative who lived some thirty miles away, down in the farmland area. And when my father got tired of watching television and went to bed early, wel…

I waited awhile, making sure he was asleep, and then tiptoed downstairs in my pajamas. As always, the hall lamp was on, throwing enough light through the kitchen doorway so that I didn't have to click any switches. Not that it made much difference, considering what a sound sleeper my father was, nothing short of an earthquake would wake him up before morning. I felt guilty, though, a guilt mixed with excitement – after all, I was doing something naughty. I even had an excuse ready, just in case, an excuse about coming down for a glass of milk and then deciding to use the maid's bathroom first – not very farfetched really, just the sort of thing a kid my age might do. That way I could read far into the night, keeping one ear open in case of emergency. A perfectly logical excuse. I had to congratulate myself on my cleverness, feeling guilty and excited and a little bit smug too; oh yes, I had everything worked out just fine! Or so I thought.

Breathlessly, nearing my goal now, I glided across the kitchen floor, pausing only to check and make certain that no light peeped out from under Bernadette's door. Again, just in case! There was always the possibility that she had changed her mind and returned early, coming in quietly through the back-porch entrance. Possible but doubtful, and I only stopped for a quick glance – just to catch my breath mainly – before turning the knob and pushing the door open, eager to begin my night of grown-up fun. My night of grown-up naughtiness…

It was naughty, all right, only I sure hadn't figured on anything that naughty. Even the light seemed sinful, a single red bulb that bathed everything in a rosy glow, bright enough for vision but too dim to be seen through the crack underneath the door.