Belle nodded. She was well aware of the fate of those homosexuals who had the misfortune to be born to the ultra-religious or ultra-conservative - or worse, the ultra-religious-conservative. "There but for the Grace of Elvis...!" She muttered softly, an irreverent prayer to the god of Rock and Roll. "A lot of gay kids are homeless too, which isn't exactly the same thing." She paused. "We did what we could, you know? We tried to educate through our music, mostly, because that's what will ultimately make the difference is if parents realise that being gay is not a sin, not a sickness, and not a passing phase, it's a perfectly normal way to be and should be accepted as such." As she spoke she levered herself out of the chair and back onto the crutches. "I'm pretty sure I can manage. Probably had more broken bones over the years than you've had decent fucks!" She cackled wickedly and hobbled back inside, still managing to move faster than Therese.<br/><br/><i>Anything you need...? </i>A hopeful question. And an interesting one. The girl had arrived sullen and insolent, and had changed with the passage of time into a sweet young thing that reminded Belle of... Of herself when she was that age. Of Louisa, too, yes, there was still that arrogance and petulance beneath the surface, but now it was veneered over with something else; a keenness, an eagerness to help. But there was a darker side to the question too: A quiet desperation, a desire to remain, not out of love for what was here, but fear of what was there.<br/><br/>Even as she assessed the girl's expression, an answer sprang unbidden to Belle's mind.<i>I could use a really good fuck, right now, you up for that?</i>She smiled and pushed the thought away. "Honestly, dear, I wish I could think of something." It wasn't really a lie, not if she added the word<i>appropriate</i>to the end. "I'll see you next week, okay? About the same time as today? Look, here's my personal card. Do you have access to a phone? Well call me collect if you have to." She smiled. "No, you don't need a reason. Just, you know, if you feel you want to. Okay?" She handed the card that had her private cellphone number on it to the girl. There was no name, just the phone number, and on the back, in very pale grey, the She-Wolves' logo.<br/><br/>She let Taz out and then got on the phone. "Hello, County Parole Office? I'd like to speak to Muzzz Limping-Pooed. Oh she is? Riiiiight. Tell her Belle Morton called... Hmm? Uh, yes, actually,<i>that </i>Belle Morton. ... Oh? Well that's nice to know. Well, yes, it's good to know I still have at least one fan! Thank you. Well of course. Tell you what, you replace Lumpy-Rump as Therese's case officer and I'll see what I can do... No, no, the pleasure's all mine. Oh... I almost forgot. Taz - er, Therese I mean, is a charming young lady, she is very helpful, did everything I asked of her and even helped with things I didn't ask her to do. I want you to take a special interest in her, look out for her. If anything should happen to her, I will hold Lippy-rude personally responsible, but in my heart I will blame you! Ha ha, yes, exactly. Thank you miss...? Thank you miss Callaghan. Indeed. Good bye now."  She hung up, chuckling at the fact that Callaghan had not once protested the extremely insulting variants of the woman's name that Belle was calling Leibenrood, and more, that Callaghan had known exactly whom Belle had meant.<br/><br/>It was the next morning, as she sat in her lounge listening to some classic seventies rock by Deep Purple, that what she needed to do occurred to her. She picked up the phone and dialled a stored number. "Hello, Ellen? It's Belle. Got a job for ya..."<br/><br/>----------------------------------<br/><br/>The following week, Belle was out of the arm cast and far more mobile, able as she was to use both crutches the way they were designed to be used. She inspected herself in the full length mirror in her bedroom. The purple jodhpurs and gold silk blouse looked awful together, but coupled with the old tricorn hat she'd found created the right effect. She giggled as she fastened an inflatable parrot to the shoulder of a black silk waistcoat, and shrugged it on. "That parrot wouldn't voom if you put forty thousand volts through it! It's dead!" She did her best John Cleese impression, which frankly,even she admitted, was crap. But the kid would be here soon and she wanted to scare the living shit out of her.<br/><br/>The doorbell went and she opened the door. "YARR, Tiz-Taz. Welc'm aboard, me hearty. Yarrr! Oi be Long Belle Silver! Yar! Peices of eight! YAR! That be Cap'n Plastic. Come aboard, me hearty...!" She was trying and failing to keep a straight face by the end. The<i>pieces of eight</i>was said in a squeaky voice with her face turned towards the parrot. She swung herself easily away from the door on her crutches, allowing Taz to enter.