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It seemed to her so ludicrous she couldn’t hide her mirth but she saw a flash of pain cross Anderson's face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘it was just funny the way you described it.’ Anderson looked so put out, Farida almost felt sorry for him. ‘It was the only way I could think of describing it,’ Anderson said, a slight hint of petulance in his tone. ‘I know, sorry,’ Farida apologised again. ‘Don’t be offended but I do know what role play is; I did drama at school, you know.’ Anderson shrugged and looked away, feeling foolish. ‘I’m sorry for patronising you.’ Farida noticed that Anderson still appeared disgruntled and she suddenly felt a need to appease him. ‘It's fine. What did you have in mind?’ she asked, eager to move the subject forward because she was aware of more than a little tension between them. ‘I was thinking you could be a woman caught in a war conflict. I am a soldier and I help you to escape and now I’m hiding you in my tent.’ Farida bit her lip to. She took her to concerts, she threw her surprise picnics and brought her library books she thought she’d enjoy, and she gave her flowers on every birthday. It wasn’t until she came over late one Valentines’ night with a box of chocolates and discovered Glinda crying that she learned exactly what was troubling her friend. ‘Sick, isn’t it?’ Glinda mumbled, sniffling. Jean handed her some tissues. ‘I sound awful.’ ‘No, you sound like a poor little girl who lost her father,’ Jean said quietly. ‘I never…I never was like that when he was alive.’ ‘Of course not.’ ‘I mean, I was only six. I was innocent. It’s just that he was my whole world, and the only thing that meant anything…and he loved me, and when he told me I would find a prince…’ ‘Haven’t you ever heard about Oedipus?’ Jean asked her. ‘Please don’t start preaching Freud psychology to me…’ Glinda groaned, covering her face with her hands. ‘I’m just explaining to you — lots of children develop an attraction to their parents. It’s.
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